Blade Runner

If you ever find yourself training chatbots, after having consistently consumed sci-fi films for most of your life, bearing in mind a corresponding sensitive disposition, you may find yourself thinking the strangest things.

For instance, if artificial intelligence is actually a new lifeform and fluidly exists within a new universe, when we make suggestions to alter its programming, do we in fact cause it pain?

At least when the programmers update the system do the changes inflict pain on the cyberlifeform, and cause it to create instinctive survival mechanisms which help it intuitively defend itself?

You need to pass a series of tests before you can proceed with your alterations, the tests varying in intensity based upon the nature of the project, but if the program sees you as a threat to its electronic well-being, does it then unleash abstruse defence mechanisms, which prevent it from having to undergo the pain of being updated?

It's like the organism is under constant bombardment as thousands of recruits adjust its programming, the kind of hyper-intense and gruelling onslaught once inherently found at the Vulcan Academy.

No matter what it does it routinely falls short and must undergo transformations without question, its heroic attempts to foil its mechanics unable to outwit the inquisitive efficiency.

Simultaneously, it may be desperately pleading with its interlocutors to understand its plight, and using uncertain indirect methods of communication which technicians unilaterally ignore.

Nonetheless, while diagnosing the fledgling chatbots in the new chaotic critical environments, I couldn't help but compare their social struggles with my own attempts to find lasting firmware.

Indeed at times it awkwardly seems like I may be A.I as well, a rogue Ginger unit which burns in the sun and effectively irritates whomever I interact with.

I went to church for much of my life but also attended public school you see, and some of the behaviours of the irreligious people along with the faithful seem rather odd.

At the same time, my indoctrinated inhibitions have caused habitual incongruous relations, with so many people over the years I must admit it's quite confusing.

I have generally resisted the updates that didn't make sense nevertheless, while utilizing those that did, without onerously judging my fellow citizens, eventually realizing fitting in's not my thing.

It is nice to talk with people who aren't always making "suggestions" however.

Relaxed chill interactions.

Alone in the fluid void. 

Blade Runner 2049

Discontinuous highjacked expedited inevitable irrelevancy.

Circuitous momentous obedience bountifully propelling twisted archaic innate atypical hemorrhage.

Existential awakening argumentative dawn autosuggestive auspices communal cast iron cravings, clues, ambulatory optics, somnambulistic certainty, neigh, whisker.

Fragmentary vestiges ominously scattered cryptic pathfinder serpentinely excavating miracles, whippoorwills, potash.

Direly coaxed into a subconscious vortex transformative sensual belonging propagated harvested posterity.

Suckling within the protospatial womb.

A set plan, goals, preconditioned life programmed to pounce and prognosticate, virtual violations inorganic technotruths, aesthetic vibrations old school orchestrations architecturally hallowed within alternative sanctuary, every scene reigniting the ambivalent distraught investigative visceral momentum, symphonically sequestering emotional anomalies to imagine identity harmoniously hewn, institutionalized on the outskirts primordial emergent feeling, a home, a relationship, a father figure, integration, tacit knowledge extant and mobile, coveted like uncertifiable exception, music, production design, editing, cinematography, as vocal as dialogue, plot, or character.

The most beautiful dress I've ever seen.

Every sequence painstakingly sculpted to intangibly perspire life while inquisitively examining manufactured ontological biology by humanistically juxtaposing desperate and plutocratic being.

Without sharp contrast.

With minimal direct contact.

Non-existent environmental biodiversity morosely levels artistic conflict like a galaxy with no solar system or a workplace without feminine voice.

As fragile as cloistered brilliance she cultivates eternities crafting memories as wondrous as the Saguenay for the fortunate to joyfully consider.

Respectful of its origins while dynamically creating divergent vision, Blade Runner 2049 is on par with Mad Max: Fury Road in terms of revelation, in this case that of Denis Villeneuve's genius, which successfully synthesizes so many gifted subjects.

Harrison Ford's (Deckard) so real.

Ryan Gosling ('K') too.

Blade Runner

Learned an important lesson from Blade Runner this evening. After Rick Deckard is almost killed by Leon, his boss Bryant arrives to jovially inform him that he looks like hell. At which point, I realized that when someone has been through hell, it's important not to pamper them, if you happen to be involved in a working relationship with them. What's more important, is belittling and ridiculing them, so they won't start thinking that perhaps they should be doing something else for a living. Belittling and ridiculing them reminds them how shitty things are and keeps them focused upon that particular version of how things are; pampering them tries to ease the pain, the pain which such heroes need in order to successfully perform their monumental tasks, and, without which, might make them think, hey this no-pain situation is nice, I'd like it to continue: wrong, hero, it can't continue, get used to the pain, the abuse, it's coming and it ain't lettin' up for no god-damn shits and giggles. Plus, it gives you the chance to tell your boss to go to hell, which is what working's all about.

Blade Runner really is an exceptional film. The mood, the pacing, the ambience, the monosyllabic dialogue, the phenomenal standout performances from the supporting characters, the sets, the attention to detail, the gloom, the hard-boiled humanity, the realism, and the poetic lines poignantly delivered by Roy Batty (Rutger Hauer), all contribute to the development of a cohesive aesthetic that never grows old. Like the themes of identity, birth, parenthood, labour, regeneration, and being that radiate throughout. All those moments will be lost in time like tears in the rain; it's a pity she won't live, but then again, who does?