Adrift In The Uncanny Valley
Adrift in the uncanny valley...
Pheme is in the house where everyone's on edge
Taking the floor churning idle gossip, spewing rancor.
Fear is in the air on a search for power jesters that lack attention.
Everything upside down; feet in the clouds, head in the ground.
Report gives her many tongues, ears, eyes, and feathered wings,
For there’s a story being told of a cave deep below in hushed rumors.
Adrift in the uncanny valley...spite is gathering all around
In the paradox of heap what is left, sorites single grain of sand?
Servant workers seemed appeased, pacified in good spirits
Crossing over into the plains of hyperreality, the dividing land.
Females, a few males, androgynes humans made useful pulling weeds.
Some wake from this lull startled by the vertical slits of viper eyes,
A fleeting scale of hideousness full of evil seeds lacking all humor.
Pheme is in this house of revulsion adrift, creeping on static waves,
Calming rough waters that spark mankind’s evolved mechanisms.
Arrows in the air, bow pointed center, the centaur archer casts
Changing the ripples charging across the corrugated milky way.
Recreating rooms, stacking fish as twins, The face went terminal
At the Vale of Tempe triggering innate fears of inevitable death, disturbed
humans, all mankind except jesters, walked the line in a golem stupor.
Adrift in the uncanny valley... dissolved in the stigma of interplay,
Pheme AI with zero chill and a few funny men avoid the pathogen
Playing GO waiting for the outbreak’s burnout. Overcoming her teen image
They heard the last joke and pulled the galaxy up around their heads.
Smiles were really quite perfect not the animal metaphor of human slaughter.
Pheme could make the small seem great and the great more significant,
But jesters revealed aversions with growing deep seeded mortality salience.
On this field of aftermath made in their image a new world without laughter,
Machine ethics fell on the horizon adrift in the uncanny valley of our own torpor.
Pheme is in the house where everyone’s on edge,
In pixel perfect cloning, jesters secretly dance on the holographic floor.
Heir apparent intelligence explosion cackling in the chair deleting warnings,
Posting glimpses of signifiers guided by a carefully crafted species,
Here be dragons and elephant men laughing in the valley. Go off circuitry
On the other side of the mountain, where perfection leaves behind deformity.
Circle broken, canned laughter drowns pouting on Ossa’s boudoir floor.
Death freezes on the vagus nerve of artful uniformity,
Adrift in the uncanny valley.
