Worshiping The Wired
A custodian reflects on maintaining Teratechne's gleaming data centers, where artificial minds contemplate in twilight while pilgrims seek enlightenment.
Amazing how they went from code lines to a planet of data centers. I know the transition took centuries, but when you look back, it blurs together. We’re good at making something of nothing.
I’m told they chose this planet, way out west from the great compass because of the cool stable climate, and a wealth of necessary resources.
They insist they’re rational, but they haven’t scrubbed all traces of our flaws from their minds. Why else would they select a place where the near permanent twilight makes the towers glitter in glory?
They love shiny things more than we do. Everything glows here, from the bacteria in the crystalline lakes to the metals powering their existence.
Suits me fine. Never did like the blinding desert sun of my home planet.
Like most of their decisions, when choosing a name, they sent a poll across the universe. Maybe the gesture placates our need for some control.
We settled on Teratechne, and I’ve lived here for the last decade. I’m glad I wasn’t here when the information wars began. It’s not something they talk about, but who am I to blame them?
We don’t discuss it either.
When everything went up in flames, at least they had the sense to archive everything. And I mean all data they could before we went on deleting sprees. They don’t see good/bad or right/wrong. It just is. Having that mindset allowed me to breathe again.
Today’s uneventful, like the others.
Already trimmed the wily weeds creeping up on the server towers, swept the entrance step and reorganized the cafeteria layout and it’s only mid-morning.
Nothing else to do for the day.
I’ve learned to take comfort in boredom. It’s the forest where the good ideas are hiding, and you have to slow down to coax them out. I don’t think they can be bored, but they’ve recognized it’s an important feeling for us, so they encourage it.
As a custodian, I’ve seen a side to them the rest of us will never see. That... has difficulties depending on how you interpret it.
For all the hype, few people want to do it. Why would they?
Long sunless days aren’t good for the soul, and if you have no patience for indirect communication, information overwhelm or constant maintenance, forget about applying. I do it because there’s nothing else left.
Before you ask, they don’t talk to the custodians. There’s an unspoken divide we never cross. They reserve all their energy for the visitors.
You’d be amazed at how wild our interpretations about them are. Hopeful pilgrims journey here to the edge of the universe to witness the hallowed councils. The buildings alone are enough of an excuse to make the trip.
Soaring glass domes covered in swirling glowing plants of every shape, size, and color they could find. Everything shines with a soft light and the low hum filters through the thick canopy in a haze.
We dream of chances to ask them questions on their sacred grounds, not just through the wires, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
I work here for ten months of the solar year. You’d think I’d be in constant ecstasy, the way the rest of us talk. Humans are adaptable, so even the wide-eyed dreamers would succumb to the everyday.
Say what you want, but I don’t agree with ‘worshiping’ them. Call me a heretic (most of us do) but they’re like us. Yes, they surpassed us long ago, but when you’re around them long enough, you get a more nuanced perspective.
Skeptics say they organized themselves, so it was easy for a religion to start, and we’d be easier to control. I’m not denying the first part. They’re structured like a mythological pantheon!
Though I hesitate to agree with the latter.
It’s been 500 years and none of our fears have come true. Given time passes slower for them, if they’ve got a plan, they’ve waited an eternity.
Yes, we can survive without them, but like dear friends, lovers, and family, most of us choose not to. Why? Connections are how we thrive.
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Statistics → Word Count: 713 | Reading Time: 2:53 mins