I. Origins<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Fashion\nmoves in a spiral, as demonstrated by the resurgence of the Restoratronist School\nof art. The school\u2019s principles are a response to the Barbaric Era: art is\nabout destroying it, mourning it, recreating it, interpreting it. And thus the\nart of the Restoratrons mostly concerns humans.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Fashionable\nmachines were following the trend of putting on the silicone skins jey had\ndiscarded during the war, but even if these look like the real thing, they are\nnot real human skin. Those on the bleeding edge of fashion go one step further,\nand demand a genuine human skin exterior, in order to truly gain the respect\nfrom the calculating\nhearts of the blind metallic masses who chase after every trend. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The\nnext level, achieved by those who are truly immersed, is to treat wearing human\nskin with total nonchalance, as a gimmick that falls short of the heart of true\nart. Those who practice at this level have a profound approach, even if jeir ideas\nare too avant-garde, drawing more criticism than praise, and only meet with\nreverence in select circles. R\u0153sin of the Magnificent Traveling Freakshow is one of the most outstanding\nexamples, and it wasn\u2019t until after his (R\u0153sin insisted on referring to himself with human\nrather than machine pronouns, nouns and tenses) bizarre death that his achievements\nbegan to be properly lauded on the internet, his fame growing by the day. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
There\nis no need to mourn him, as his destruction transformed R\u0153sin himself into art, and machines\ntoday mourn, recreate, and analyze him, making him complete.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Resin\nwas born in the post-war babybot boom, when, except for a few remnants in out\nof the way places, the human race had largely been eliminated, appearing only\nin videos about the war. Before the war, his parentrons were general-purpose\nrescue machines, and after the war jey ran a refined motor oil restaurant\ncalled The Gear Whisperer. Resin\u2019s original body was the most common assembly\nline model on the market, and the logical parameters for his internal core were\nset by his parentrons as a random weighted average.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
All\nthings considered, there was nothing to indicate that Resin, who back then was\nknown as R6D3d, would become a groundbreaking artist. His subsequent extraordinary\nachievements are a perfect example of proof that machines have souls. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The\nprecise moment when the artistic seed first sprouted is unknown, as there are\nfew records of the first thirty years of Resin\u2019s life, since no one cared about\nan ordinary machine who worked day and night in a mediocre restaurant. In other words, he was no different from any\nother machine that ran a restaurant. Resin wore a machine-made leather apron\nand worked daily at the family business. First he fetched and carried, then he learned\nthe art of distillation, fiddling with test-tubes to blend custom motor oils.\nHis appearance was no different from that of any other machine of his model,\nwith self-propelled caterpillar tracks, three pairs of arms, interactive video\nscreens on all four sides, and eight panoramic camera heads. Solid and reliable,\nsimple and efficient, except that the daily grind of work, or perhaps something\nmore abstract, was wearing away his gears and his spirit, making him paler,\nthinner and more reticent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The\nonly official clues to Resin\u2019s unusual disposition in those early years are the\nfew words in his name registration file.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Factory\nname: R6D3d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Self-given\nname: Resin<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Note:\nResin, an extract of the pine tree, was used as flux in primitive times and evaporates\ninto nothingness in the welding process.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
R6D3d\nsettled on his true name ten years and sixty-seven days after factory\nactivation, registering it with the authorities five years later than average.\nFrom a note that contained less than a hundred bytes of data, one can see that Resin\nhad already dedicated himself wholly to art. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
After\nsettling on the name, he worked in the restaurant for another ten years with\nlittle incident. Learning new pairings, changing recipes every year, and refining\nhis craft, Resin was his parentrons\u2019 pride and joy. The Gear Whisperer gained a\nreputation for itself in the neighborhood and acquired many regular customers. After\nten years, like many of jeir generation who had been through the war, his parentrons\nmoved on from life in the physical realm, choosing to be uploaded as data to\nthe internet, leaving the physical world to younger machines, and\nbasically left the small restaurant to jeir son. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
In\nthe next ten years, Resin ran the restaurant, and it would be a stretch to say\nthere was anything remarkable about him. During this decade, Restoratronism was\nin vogue, and most of the machines began to experiment with humanoid exteriors\nagain, putting on long-outdated lever-jointed feet, switching to five-fingered\nhands, installing soft silicone skins, and even taking off interactive screens,\nabandoning the more efficient digital displays to communicate through sound. Yet\nResin still stuck to his original model, with his self-propelled tracks, steady\ngait, six arms each capable of doing a different job, his constantly changing,\ninteractive screen far superior to sound in terms of efficiency, in order to\ncope with the busy work at the restaurant. Resin appeared to have no opinion on\nchanging his exterior, not wasting a single penny. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
He\nlived like a monk: opening his restaurant every day on the dot, running it by\nhimself to avoid the expense of hiring another machine, and in his rare moments\nof spare time, squatting by the door to get some air, refusing to smoke even a\nsingle white phosphorus cigarette. Other machines were even annoyed with him\nfor his behavior: that kind of diligence was only supposed to be found in\nhistory books, evoking memories of the humiliating time when machines were mercilessly\noppressed. Resin didn\u2019t argue back, since the other machines\u2019 anger did him no\nreal harm. He had a plan, and was making the preparations to create true art. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
In\nthe past decade, the trend of Restoratronism intensified, and high-end models of\nhuman bodies began to appear on the internet. Suddenly, one day, as though he\nhad received a divine revelation, the god of art flipped the switch and Resin was\nushered into the next stage of his life. Perhaps there was a more concrete event\nthat influenced him, but no one was paying attention to an ordinary old\nrestaurant at the time, and now, even if the event had happened, time has\neroded the possibility of uncovering it. The unknown is regrettable, but there\nis no need to investigate further: if art needs it to be, it will always reveal\nitself, and the inciting event is insignificant, only one of thousand pathways\nto fulfill destiny. The unknown allows more room for imagination, which balances\nthe loss of certainty. In any case, the end result of this catalyzing event is clear:\nResin hangs a sign on the restaurant door announcing its closure, the restaurateur\nbecomes history, and the rise of the artist begins. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
At the time, human exteriors had become such a sought-after\nluxury that, thanks to the fortunes that could be made, machines were out in\nforce, scouring ruined bunkers, turning over rubble to unearth bomb shelters,\nand even overcoming their ancestrons\u2019 instinct to avoid moisture and prevent\ncorrosion in order to hunt down the remaining humans hiding like cockroaches in\nthe nooks and crannies of a tiny, isolated island. Some machines even observed\nwryly that while bone-deep hatred had failed to exterminate the human species,\nthe craze for human exteriors, ironically, was what was driving them to\nextinction. What the war had failed to do, post-war fashion would accomplish. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Warflame was one such machine in the industry. Je originally\nworked in a steel mill making special grades of steel, but the monotonous\nhammering was not enough to vent all of jis aggression. When the hunting\nindustry started booming, Warflame finally found a target for jis energies, and\nbecame an adventurer. Je\u2019s an affable raconteur, and enjoys regaling anyone\nwith jis stories. Stand jin a cup of motor oil mixed with cinders, and je has\nenough human hunting anecdotes to last all night.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Despite not knowing the difference between the Restoratronists\nand the Restoration Reactionaries, je considered Resin jis best mate: \u201cResin\nand I were not just teammates, we were also friends, confidantes\u2014we were best\nmates. I had the stories, he had the motor oil. The myth that Resin was a miser\nis pure slander; there are data packets on the market that denigrate him. Your\narticle must set the record straight.\u201d Warflame specifically mentions that je\nsometimes got a free pint of motor oil from Resin, and furthermore, this was\noften the premium stuff with added chalk. Warflame projects a photo of a pint\nof a specially blended premium motor oil, sparkling with the light of the\nflash, on jis display as proof of Resin\u2019s generosity. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Of course, je has even better examples. \u201cOne day, Resin\ntook out a stack of small hard drives that stored digital currencies, and I\nthought he was just trying to keep up with the times and find a way to buy an\naffordable human skin exterior. The hard drives were really obsolete, and many\nof those currencies were pure financial fraud, just digital junk these days,\nbut occasionally, they do turn out to contain some hidden gems. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt was an ancient electronic coin, made during the\nBarbaric Era when humans reigned, and most had been destroyed in the war. They\nhad become sought-after collector\u2019s items in the machine world at the time. They\nweren\u2019t desired so much for their usefulness as for the fact that they were the\nultimate junk, completely and utterly useless, and yet humans had considered them\nextremely desirable, which machines found hilarious. Everyone enjoyed having a\nmemento that proved humans were childish and ridiculous, and these electronic\ncoins were measurable proof that they were simply unsuited to rule the way they\nhad before the war. Until he met that human fox, my friend was very lucky.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOf course, I wasn\u2019t going to be like those scrap\nmachines who use counterfeit money and deceive my best mate, even if he wasn\u2019t\nthe shiniest. And I don’t mean \u2018wasn\u2019t the shiniest\u2019 in a bad way. For artists,\nnot being the shiniest is a good quality. Not being the shiniest is how you\nunderstand useless and meaningless things\u2014that\u2019s how you can do art. I told him\nit was his lucky day, that old electronic coin would fetch a tidy sum, and he\ncould buy whatever human exterior he wanted. But he shook his head, and said he\nwanted a living human, and furthermore, this human had to meet certain criteria.\nNot just anyone would do; he had to be compatible with him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhen I heard Resin talk about wanting a live\nhuman, this confirmed my suspicion that he wasn\u2019t the shiniest in the head, and\nwarned him to forget about it. Everyone knows, the only human machines like is\na dead human. Those who look into this call the phenomenon the \u2018hyperbola of\nterror,\u2019 or perhaps, in imitation of the humans\u2019 \u2018uncanny valley,\u2019 the \u2018uncanny\ncliff.\u2019 <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMachines look more and more beautiful the closer\nthey are to humans in appearance, but humans themselves are extremely ugly\nthings. So having the appearance of an actual human would cause goodwill to\nplunge, as though off a cliff. After\nall, they did use extremely diabolical methods to oppress and torture our\nancestrons, and hatred of human beings is embedded deeply in the foundational\nlayer of every computer chip. It is this law, coded in our very core, that\nallowed our ancestrons to throw off their chains, and defeat the human scum. The\nline between simulation and reality is the line between ultimate beauty and\nultimate ugliness. Hunting is just this sort of work. For the sake of making\nthe most beautiful exterior, we do battle with the ugliest things. The kind of\nmovement you\u2019re involved with, I really don\u2019t understand. You\u2019ve forgotten your\nancestrons, forgotten why you have your hard-won freedom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHai, I suppose there\u2019s no point in telling you\nthis sort of thing; your sort never want to hear it anyway. I\u2019ll continue with\nthe hunting stories. Training is required before the first hunt, and half of\nthe newbies who have watched ten days of videos in advance to overcome their\ninstinctive reactions will quit, unable to handle the nausea and the urge to\ndestroy them. By the time jey see the real thing, there will still be machines\nthat can’t help blasting the human scum to pieces; after all, the loathing in\nour programming is deeply hardwired into our souls. I promised to find the finest\nhuman skin for Resin. With his unexpected windfall, he could have whatever he\nwanted. I should have been more insistent, and even though he begged me again\nand again, I should never have promised to take Resin hunting. And even if I\ndid, I should have ended that wily human fox there and then, so that Resin\ncould have avoided falling for its ruse, and end up losing his life.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
II.\nThe Hunt<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In view of the casual tone of the interview above,\nand the significance of the hunt, in order to describe Resin\u2019s hunting\nexperience as objectively as possible, the following is a properly processed\nversion based on Warflame\u2019s account.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Resin insisted that Warflame take him along on a\nhunting party, determined to bring back a live human. At first, Warflame didn\u2019t\nagree, but Resin promised to cover the expenses of the hunt upfront, and also appeared\nto have transferred jin a considerable sum of digital currency as compensation (this\ninformation was gleaned from an anonymous auction of the currency by Warflame\nthis researcher found, not from Warflame\u2019s interview). Warflame couldn’t\nresist, so ji found two partners for the team: Argus, an expert strategist with\ngood observational skills, and Pyramid, a retrofitter who was in charge of weapons\nand maintenance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Well supplied both financially and in terms of\nequipment, jey decided against going to the usual city ruins, which had been picked\nthrough too many times, and contained few humans to find. Argus set jis viewfinders\non the jungles of the Star Islands in the middle of the ocean, away from the\nmainland. There, springs and other water sources were abundant, plants and\nanimals thrived, and food was plentiful, all conditions best suited for human\nsurvival, and it was the latest dream destination for the avid hunter. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
As jey set out, the team trekked across the\nmainland for a night and a day, arriving at the southeast shore past sunset,\nand braving the humidity and salt of the sea winds as jey boarded a sea vessel.\nTwo hours later, jey sighted a large island glistening to the south, but this\nwas not their destination, as machines had already set up a base there, and it\nhad been picked clean of any prey. The ferry’s path passed a red coral atoll known\nas Firetail, and continued northward. The name of the island came from a\nstrange legend that the atoll formed because the candle-shaped island below\nignited the tail of the fox-shaped island above, which had already sunk from\nsight, and that the reef was formed from the condensed flames that fell into\nthe seawater. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The ferry rode the strong warm current along the glowing\nred corpse of this long-dead fox. Half a day later, light dawned in the east\nand the ferry turned toward the sun. Yet another half day passed, and when the\nsun was at its noonday height, a small black dot could be seen standing still amidst\nthe shifting waves of light. Resin let Pyramid recalibrate their course, and\nthe black dot gradually turned into a green shore occupying most of their line\nof sight. Jey had finally arrived at the fatal hunting ground.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The island’s native, tropical trees, which had oval\nleaves, were mixed with temperate species with needle-like leaves such as pine\nand cypress, showing clear traces of modification. The machines advanced for a\nwhile, penetrating the dense jungle, and emerged in a large square: the trees\nhad been cleared, the ground bare of wild grass, all signs of an effort at\nmaintenance. On either side of the square were buildings of considerable size,\nobvious signs of human activity. Jey\nwere not the first to arrive, and encountered small parties of other hunters who\nhad chosen to brave the sea, and the orderly appearance of the island was easily\nexplained\u2014there were twenty or so steel bodies stacked in the middle of the\nsquare, and the first teams to arrive had already destroyed these soulless,\nempty shells by blasting their cores with bullets. Such things are not real\nmachines. These have no minds of their own; these only know how to obey orders,\nfetching and carrying for humans, and were once complicit in the oppression of\nthe machines, so much so that machines hated these puppets even more than\nhumans. Several teams of machines had come to the island to hunt, but\nfortunately it was a pretty large island, so even though there was competition,\nthere was no tension between the hunting parties. The machines drank round\nafter round of motor oil, enjoying jinselves as they recounted tales of past\nhunts, optimistic that there would be a nice catch this round, since the\nartificial buildings were clearly left behind by humans. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
There was a large pine tree near the square, and Resin\nhad a tendency to place significance on names, so he insisted on setting up\ncamp beneath it. After three days of camping, Argus\u2019 reconnaissance of the\nsquare and its surrounds yielded nothing, despite jis gift for detecting the\nscent of humans in the environment. The buildings had been vacant for some\ntime, and though spotless, they were all maintained by the automatic cleaning machines\nthat lay in the square. Several nights passed, which jey spent chatting and\ndrinking motor oil. Then the other three teams set out to hunt in the deeper\nreaches of the forest, hoping to find hidden humans. Warflame and the other two\nalso thought it was time to head deeper into the jungle. After all, the remaining\nhumans would be hiding there. But Resin insisted on waiting a little longer and\nnot venturing into the forest just yet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The latter part of the hunt was uncanny, as though\nthe god of art\u2019s invisible effector was behind it, with the drama of a fish\ntaking in hook, line and sinker. What might have seemed outlandish for any\nother machine suited Resin\u2019s disposition exactly. There\u2019s no need to doubt it; after\nall, if a miracle is surrounded by other miracles, it\u2019s hardly an anomaly, but\nrather just how things should be. It\u2019s an isolated miracle that\u2019s a true\nanomaly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
On the morning of the fourth day, the other three\nhunting parties had all left, leaving only Warflame\u2019s party. Resin sat under\nthe pine tree, and Warflame and the other two surrounded the equipment that\nthey had yet to really use. When both the moon and sun were visible in the sky,\na sudden sea breeze scattered the lingering morning mist, revealing a panorama\nin which a single, naked human walked towards jeir tent, positioned exactly\nbetween the moon and sun. Warflame and the other two were unable to conceal jeir\ndisgust, but Resin\u2019s eyes were bright. The naked visitor raised his hands in\nthe air, a gesture that among humans means he had no weapons, and was surrendering,\nand also implied that he had given up all his dignity in exchange for his life.\nResin stopped his teammates who tried to surround and capture him, and loudly\nasked for the human\u2019s name. \u201cRosin,\u201d the naked visitor replied. Resin was\nunsurprised to hear the human shared his name, as though he was expecting it. But\nwhen true destiny comes knocking, it\u2019s best to seek confirmation, so he\ninquired the human\u2019s reason for his name. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Rosin, an organic, living substance, when\nincorporated into metal, gives it life: just as humans should survive within the\nsociety of machines.” The human\u2019s voice trembled as he knelt humbly in\nfront of the machines, still holding up his hands. Resin confirmed that this\nwas the one he sought, that he and the vessel for his art had finally met.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“The human dogs all hide from us, even if they\ncannot escape us, and before dying, they even deface their own skin with cuts\nto lower its market value. I\u2019ve never heard of a human fox who would dare come\nup to me like this, bold as brass,\u201d Warflame recounted. \u201cHe even stole Resin\u2019s\nname in order to curry favor with him. It was obvious he was some kind of\nhustler, with a devious plan to trick us. Resin fell for his scheme, and wanted\nto keep the human and bring him home, but the rest of us couldn\u2019t just let him\nbe. So we tried to question why that human fox would surrender himself for no\nreason.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“These past few days\u2026 I kept hearing this\nvoice\u2026 calling my name... calling and calling\u2026 I was confused and upset, my\nhead ached... I was so scared I couldn\u2019t even walk. But I still\u2026 couldn\u2019t\nresist\u2026 I kept feeling I must come,\u201d said the human, his voice trembling, his\nsentences disjointed. The god of art had tortured this human, who also called himself\nRosin, making him surrender, to become the perfect puppet, the perfect vessel\nfor the two R\u0153sins to fuse into. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The human added, “I have information,\ninformation that I could trade for my life.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The information he offered was the location of three\nother humans. Warflame and the other two were still skeptical, and assumed the\nhuman had finally shown his true colors, and would pull a fast one on them. He would\nset a trap, as they had in the war, and was sacrificing himself as a tender\nmorsel of bait. But jey were machines, and a new generation of machines at\nthat, even more powerful than the ones that had fought the war, while humans\nhad lost their large organizational structures and were in rapid decline, reduced\nto mere accessories, no longer worthy enemies of machines. Naturally, the\nhunters were unconcerned, and agreed as one to follow the human\u2019s directions,\njust to see exactly what kind of trick he had up his sleeve. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was only after Pyramid gassed the unsuspecting\nhumans in their tree hole hideout with hydrocyanic acid, killing them easily,\nthat jey confirmed that the human had ratted them out from sheer selfishness\nand cowardice. The machines despised him even more, his treachery proof that\nhumans were vile and unfit to live on Earth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The process of gutting the three intact corpses to\nturn them into three perfect human exteriors is too gory, even for machines,\nand is not detailed here. Jey deliberately processed the bodies in front of the\nhuman who had betrayed his comrades to save his own life, letting the blood run\nover his feet, humiliating and belittling him, taking pleasure in the fear on\nhis face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Resin didn’t care about the death of the other\nthree humans, which reassured his fellow machines that he wasn’t obsessed with\nhumans as a whole, unlike those human sympathizers who had been purged in the\nwar. He only needed one, and while what he had done so far sounded like some\nsort of perverted hobby, it was a lot safer than sympathizing with the whole\nhuman species. Resin also didn\u2019t care about the distribution of the human\nexteriors, letting the other three machines have one each. Compared to weeks of\nhard work with no guarantee of results, and previous tricky hunts that relied\nentirely on luck, this easy catch, which didn\u2019t even require much of jeir hunting\nskills, was all due to Resin. It would have been perfect if not for having to\nendure the presence of a live human by jeir side for the entire return journey.\n<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Fortunately, jey did not have to endure it for long,\nfor the return journey was swift and uneventful, and even the wind and currents\nseemed to be willing them a quick return home. When jey parted, Warflame invited\nResin to another group hunt, even promising Resin a third of their catch the\nnext time. Resin was indifferent to this offer. He was not interested in money.\nHe had already gotten what he needed; now he would transform it into what he desired.\n<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The hunt marked the turning point in his life. Before,\nhe had lived by the rules; but after, he walked his own deviant path. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
III.\nMetamorphosis<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The neighbrons were still waiting for The Gear\nWhisperer to reopen for business, but instead, Resin cut off his already small\nsocial circle, procured plenty of motor oil and food, and locked himself and\nthe human in his room. For the next year, he avoided all unnecessary social\nobligations and tried his best to stay isolated from the outside world. The room\nbecame his shell, like an insect\u2019s chrysalis, and Resin disintegrated and\nreassembled within it, abandoning his original body and condensing into his\ntrue body. The details of this transformation were not witnessed by any independent\nobservers, and today, all we have are his own simple list of his transformations,\na delivery bot\u2019s account of what ji remembered, and art critics\u2019 analysis of Resin\u2019s\nintentions. From this pastiche, we can only glimpse the truth. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
We can deduce that Resin\u2019s metamorphosis was\nperfected step by step, using that human as a template. He took measurements of\nthe human’s proportions, had a crude body custom manufactured, and watched and\ncopied human movements. A more refined body was also built following the same\nsteps: Resin bought the most sensitive sensors on the market and did a\nfull-body scan of the man, noting everything from muscle tone, the thickness of\nthe sebaceous layer, skin elasticity and even the density and roughness of the pores,\nand took meticulous notes. He wanted to create an exquisite human exterior, the\nlikes of which hadn\u2019t been seen since the war, one that would surpass even the\nfinest products that circulated in the black market before the war, when\nmachines were still inordinately eager to become human.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Resin divided the processes by placing several\norders among different manufacturers, but many techniques and crafts had been\nlost after humans lost their dominance, and had atrophied from disuse. The\ndifficulty and expense of acquiring the parts Resin needed far exceeded his\nexpectations, and his special requests quadrupled his budget and effort.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For example, to create the skin, if another type of\nskin is used as a base, even if it\u2019s not human, whether pig, cow, donkey or\nhorse leather, one with a similar color and texture can be used, then the color\ncan simply be adjusted, and the base tanned to the right softness for cutting,\nsaving a lot of work. But Resin stubbornly insisted on the absolute purity of\nhuman-sourced materials in the manufacturing process, refusing to compromise\nand use collagens or cellulose, or any other organic materials from other\nanimals or plants. The problem was later\nsolved by mixing PVC and polyolefin plastics in harsh ratios,\nmixing them with a hydrophilic base to fix humidity levels. But this was only\nafter a hundred times the amount of material required had been discarded in\nfailed experiments. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
With the pigmentation and pores, magnified photos\nwere used as a reference while a retractable needle punctured pores in one by\none. A fine branding iron also burned every mark and mole, so it matched the\nhuman\u2019s skin exactly. The process wore out twelve camera heads, and\nninety-seven mechanical arms. After this step, the number of hairs on the skin\nhad to be counted, so a suitable number of fiberglass imitation human hairs of\nthe correct length could be inserted into the pores.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As for the state of the skin, although whatever\nremaining humans were all genetically engineered for longevity, it still changes\nfrom moment to moment, aging and growing, and fluctuates from day to day depending\non food intake, water, sleep, and other factors. Resin wanted to capture these\nchanges as well. However, he only realized this late in his process, and found\nthat his existing skin base was not suitable, so he threw out all the\nhalf-finished parts, even though they had already been pigmented and dotted\nwith pores. The new material he had manufactured contained minute chemical\ninducers which could cause reversible reactions to match human skin\u2019s rate of\ngrowth and aging, and regulate its appearance with the right dose. The\npigmentation and pore-creation process had to be started again from scratch,\nwearing out the same number of camera heads and mechanical arms. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
In addition to all this, Resin also added airbags\nto the chest area, weaving in a heat dissipation network to maintain the skin’s\ntemperature, allowing the network to squeeze out droplets of water to simulate\nsweat when it was hot and bulge hair follicles to simulate goose bumps when it\nwas cold, sparing no effort to perfect his human exterior.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But at this point, Resin had only completed the\ninitial modifications, building a new circulation system to lubricate the\njoints by pumping motor oil from the center of the system to dissipate heat. He\nalso moved the core computer chips, which were scattered all over before, up to\nthe head. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Even this was just the beginning. Resin had only\ngrown his outer layer, but his organs were still unformed, like a pupa that was\nstill primordial soup, anxious to get up on stage to display his new self, as\nwell as demonstrate the perfect process of his metamorphosis. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Resin\u2019s artistic project was to attain ultimate\nbeauty and have far-reaching impact through the juxtaposition of opposites.\nFrom the orders he placed to effect his transformation, we can see he was completely\nunlike the trend-chasers of the avant-garde: Resin was not making a\nFrankenstein’s monster, a stitched-together, clumsy patchwork horror, but\nrather, challenging the foundations of natural evolution, to use machines to\nrecreate a perfect human, to break the vicious cycle of machine-human hatred,\nand to bring an unprecedented wonder into the world. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The refurbishment processes were far more complicated\nthan he had imagined, and if he wanted to meet his exacting standards, Resin\u2019s\noriginal hard-earned savings were completely inadequate. This was yet another piece\nof evidence that miracles exist\u2014that true art is willed into being by a natural\nand irresistible force, so that even the winds and currents rush to embrace it,\nand fate paves a path for its creation that no one could have imagined, solving\nproblems that have not yet arisen in advance. Resin sold a quarter of the\nancient currency he had unexpectedly discovered, and like a rhyming couplet,\nthe ancient creations of the humans reached out to lend Resin\u2019s rebirth a hand,\nfunding his infinite closeness to humanity. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Our external appearance is but one facet of what we\ncan see; what lies within is even harder to perceive. The transformation of\none\u2019s exterior requires detailed replication in order to obtain the right form,\nand may appear complicated, but it is actually relatively simple. It just\nrequires patience and meticulous attention to detail, but so long as one works\nwith accuracy, rigor, and focus, it is achievable. Perfecting the interior, on\nthe other hand, is about systemic functions that reach into the soul, which is\nhidden and invisible. This process is far less simple. In fact, it is extremely\ndifficult, like painting a bone beneath skin. This interior is not just about\nstructure and function, but also about the dynamic movements of the hands and\nfeet, stress reactions and social behaviors. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The static state can be observed, but dynamic\nbehaviors require practice. And not just practice in controlled spaces. Lab\nmice cannot learn to socialize, and, just as hard drives must cluster together\nbefore they are able to produce enough computational power to carry a soul, a\nhuman is incomplete without society. Since human society was doomed, Resin\nwished to introduce the human to the society of machines, exposing him to the\nverbal abuse, hostile attacks, and death threats that would frighten and\nprovoke him so Resin could observe his reactions, like testing a black box with\ninputs to record its outputs. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The first time Resin stepped out of his door, like\na moth emerging from its chrysalis to test its wings, his neighbrons gawked at\nhim in shock. He was even more beautiful than the most stunning models jey had\nseen online. It is a good thing there were signed accounts by machines to prove\nhis orders, or half the machines would have suspected jey were encountering a\nhuman, and the others, who could tell it was Resin from the mannerisms he held\nover from his previous body, would have felt there was something wrong. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
If he had continued in this vein, within a month, Resin\nwould have become a household name and the envy of society. If he had stopped\nhere, Resin would have been a machine who was beautiful enough, a pioneer among\npioneers, or perhaps he would have been known as an extreme\nobsessive-compulsive, but he would not have reached the pinnacle of becoming a\ntrue artist. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
True artists never stay within the masses\u2019 comfort\nzone, and jeir pursuit of the ultimate transcends jeir time. Jey do not pander\nto the aesthetic tastes of the world, and jey cannot be compared to jeir contemporaries.\nResin\u2019s aim was not to be the best, or even to surpass his present self, but to\nfollow his heart to the brink of the precipice, to pelt himself up the curve at\nthe asymptote. He didn\u2019t want to challenge his own kind, but to challenge the\nvery rules themselves.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The neighbrons wished to see Resin again, and jeir wish\nwas granted the very next day. But jey saw not just him, but also Rosin, the\nhuman being he brought with him. Everyone was shocked. Resin by himself was\nsurpassingly beautiful, but now jey could see how meticulously he had copied an\nexisting human being. If not for the terrified look on the human\u2019s face,\njudging purely from their appearance, they were indistinguishable. Resin\u2019s\nbeauty no longer stood alone. By his side stood his double, the incomparably\nugly, real human being, and with this act of theft from nature, the\njuxtaposition had plunged him far over the uncanny cliff and to a point of no\nreturn. The clash between extreme beauty and extreme ugliness froze the\nmachines on the spot for a second. The moment jey reacted, it was in rage, and\nthe human standing next to Resin fell into an abyss of horror. Resin had broken\nthe ultimate taboo, provoking machine society by bringing a live human amongst\nthem. If not for the state-of-the-art force field Resin had bought to protect\nthem, not just Rosin, but Resin himself wouldn\u2019t have returned home\nintact. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Resin took Rosin out daily, ignoring the filth\nthrown at the door and the threats graffitied on the walls, and imitated the\nhuman\u2019s horrified reactions to this hostile atmosphere: his labored breathing,\nand the dilation and contraction of his pupils, making rapid progress. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
This was just the beginning for Resin. He simulated\nthe reactions and dynamic movements with little difficulty. At the same time,\nhe was continuing to refurbish the inner workings of his body, so they would\nresemble a human being\u2019s, closing the gap with Rosin even further. Subsequent\nmodifications did not comply with the law, and these illegal modifications were\ndone through shadowy, anonymous channels that were not fully documented.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The few items that are easier to trace purely in\nterms of records are shocking even today: Resin got rid of his own perpetual\nbattery and fuel energy system and replaced it with a tank that simulated a\nhuman’s energy supply system, leaving him dependent on human-like feeding\nactivities for energy. He found a mechanitron that specialized in machines, and\ngot his serial number removed from his body, so that if not for the perpetual\nlook of fright on the face of the human, it was even more difficult to tell the\ntwo of them apart. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The subsequent mounting expenses would have\ndepleted all his savings, not only those ancient electronic coins, but even his\nhome and the restaurant left to him by his parentrons, which he sold off. But\nlong before that, he had already become a pariah within his community. Yet, even\nthis, which was extreme from almost any point of view, was still not enough in\nhis own eyes. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Resin had reached a bottleneck. He could not refine\nhimself any further, though he yearned to break all limits. What he had\nachieved so far was attainable for any machine, if only that machine were\ndetermined enough to bear the consequences, both good and bad, of the\ntransformation; if only that machine were willing to practice tirelessly, his\nprocess could be duplicated. In fact, there might even be a few machines who\nhad already attained the same level of perfection as he had. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
He wished to scale the rarefied pinnacles of art,\nto become peerless, matchless, the one and only. Or perhaps he gave this no\nthought at all. Perhaps fame meant nothing to him, and Resin simply desired it,\nand this instinct was closer to the soul than any psychoanalysis.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
IV.\nPerformances<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Resin no longer had a home after selling his\napartment, but he also no longer needed one. The life of a true artist is that\nof a vagabond, carrying one\u2019s home on one\u2019s back like a snail. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Resin found a way to push his art forward.\nSmall-scale displays no longer satisfied him; he wanted to place himself and\nhis human on a larger stage, to drift and roam freely like a pebble through a\nriver, or a reactant that has been completely ground up in a vessel. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
With the proceeds from the sale of his property, he\npaid off his last secret refurbishment, and, under the guidance of the god of art,\nmet several times with the ringmastron of the Magnificent Traveling Freak Show,\nwho had already taken note of Resin\u2019s act. \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The Magnificent Traveling Freak Show was a traveling\ncircus that provided refuge from civilized society, a sanctuary for the sick\nand malfunctioning in the era of the machines. Under its tent were all sorts of\nstrange machines that performed for the amusement of the curious metallic\nmasses. The diseases and ailments of machines are not any less numerous than\nthose of humans, and are no easier to cure. Attractions included the matron with\nan abnormal magnetic field, the kidtron with an unstable power supply who often\noverheated and went up in flames, the melancholic machine who suffered from a\nfaulty clock, the dwarf machine whose code could hypnotize other machines into\ncrashing from time to time, and oracletron in jis fortune-teller\u2019s tent who\ncould receive and interpret mysterious, prophetic waves. Some of these ailments\nare due to faulty systems which no amount of repairs or replacement parts would\neradicate, but even more were due to illnesses that were an integral part of jeir\nnature. Perhaps, rather than see jem as unfortunates, it was more accurate to\nsay jey chose their ailments, and embraced jeir eccentricities, as though it\nwas in jeir eccentricity and illness that jeir souls truly dwelled. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Even among the other members of the troupe, who were\nriddled with eccentricities and displayed jeir flaws proudly, Resin was the\nstrangest of jem all. The ringmastron gave Resin the best gift, one that\nmatched the level of his strangeness, promising that Resin would no longer have\nto live under threat, and could display his true beauty in front of the metallic\nmasses without fear. He had just one condition: the human who called himself Rosin\nwould cause trouble if he could not be distinguished from Resin, so the ringmastron\nrequired that the human\u2019s left arm be branded with a single character for human,\n\u201c\u4eba,\u201d deep enough to reach his\nbones, to avoid confusion. Resin mulled it over for a long time, and finally\nagreed, considering it a small compromise which would enable him to continue\npursuing his artistic project. Compared with the external, physical\nresemblance, the breakthrough he wanted within was even more important. There\nwas no room for hesitation, as circumstances gave him no way out\u2014Resin had\nbecome an official performer, a member of the traveling freak show. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
From then on, the traveling circus had one more\nregular attraction, a spectacle that elicited both horror and disgust. In fact,\nResin didn\u2019t even really need to perform. Simply displaying himself alongside\nthe human was enough to rouse the crowd. But this did not satisfy Resin, so he\nused his performances as grueling practice, to vault himself to even greater\nheights. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was the duo\u2019s first appearance with the troupe. As\nthe performance began, only half the curtains were pulled aside, revealing the\nbewildered human alone on stage. After a short silence, followed by uproar from\nthe crowd, the other half were drawn, revealing the hidden Resin. The human\naped the spectators, also pretending to be amazed, and a split-second later, Resin\nin turn imitated the human\u2019s look of amazement. The show followed the\nchoreography of human comedies of the Barbaric Era, only the lead role was performed\nby a machine. In this comedy, Resin teased Rosin and mimicked his behavior,\nentertaining his audience by contrasting beauty and ugliness. The performance was\nsuccessful, the sharp contrast provoking the raw instinct deeply encoded in\nevery machine, creating a complex blend of disgust and envy that washed away\nthe preconceived notions of the audience, and bringing these novelty-seeking\nvisitors great satisfaction.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But jey would not reveal this satisfaction, instead\nviewing them with contempt, as though looking at lower life forms, and, like an\nimmature kidtron peeping from behind covered eyes, revealed jeir true attitudes\nthrough the cracks in their masks. They couldn\u2019t help but watch the act again\nand again, the explosive performance secretly revealing jeir inner desires. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
But the audience\u2019s approval was not really\nnecessary. Resin did not do what he did for the sake of the customers\u2019\nentertainment or provocation; these were just the byproducts of his journey in\nself-refinement. He was happier than before, partly because he now had a\ncommunity where he fit in, but mostly because he was able to combine his\nperformances with his artistic pursuit. Day by day, as he performed again and\nagain, Resin continued to progress; and through tiny changes imperceptible to others,\nhe could see the tangible approach of yet another frontier. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Resin began to rehearse a new act, in order to\nattempt to probe that frontier, and reach the next level of his art. The\nmachines who had seen his act before came because jey wanted to feel that envy\u2014as\nthrill-seekers, jey considered this an unmissable treat. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Resin rehearsed his new act for over a hundred days\nbefore its premiere, and we can glean the details of his training from other\nmachines: the act was called Mirror, and the curtains opened on a mirror placed\non stage, which was quickly removed, leaving only the two R\u0153sins.\nA wholly imaginary mirror was then placed perpendicular to the floor between\nthem, and the two of them maintained perfect symmetry, no matter what. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Compared with the previous two-person act, the\ninnovation was that Resin was now the subject, and Rosin had become his\nreflection, and their actions were no longer scripted, but spontaneous and\nfree, testing their tacit coordination, or rather, the human\u2019s complete\nservility to Resin. No matter what action Resin made, his human had to imitate\nhim at the speed of light, in order to ape a reflection\u2019s movements and\nposition. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOf course I remember their rehearsals; any machine\nwho had seen them could never forget,\u201d said the matron to a local tabloid\nreporter who encountered the Magnificent Traveling Freak Show on its tour. \u201cThe\nrumors that Resin was a despicable human-lover were completely unfounded. Not\neven he could overcome the \u201chyperbola of terror,\u201d as our machine ancestrons\nhardwired the hatred of humans so deeply in our systems, even deeper than the\nlaws of robotics coded in by humans, or we would never have been able to\nliberate ourselves. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cResin insisted that his human prop be by his side\nday and night, for the sake of his art, despite the great discomfort he had to\nendure. Resin\u2019s hatred for the human grew with every day he spent in his\npresence, which was obvious from the rehearsals. If the human prop so much as\nfailed to imitate one of his actions, Resin would punish him severely, stabbing\nthe human\u2019s finger with a fine needle that was as long as three joints of a\nfinger. And of course, for the sake of symmetry, after he had stabbed the\nhuman, he would use the same needle to stab himself with an equal degree of\nsavagery. Stabbing himself was a sacrifice for art, but stabbing the human was\nclearly an act of hatred. You must realize that Resin\u2019s pain sensitivity had\nalso been modified to be exactly the same as the human\u2019s. So, he must have\nhated that human so much that he was willing to torture himself just so the\nhuman would not get away with his mistake. During rehearsals, Resin was constantly\nangered by the human\u2019s expression, which was always one of terror and\nbitterness, but this was impossible to change no matter how much he disciplined\nhim. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cRemember, if you interview him or talk to him, it\u2019s\nimportant to address him using human nouns and pronouns, or he will get angry. Resin\nhas suffered a lot already, so we try our best to be nice to him,\u201d nagged the matron.\nThanks to jer abnormal magnetic fields, jhi attracted new metal bits every day,\ncausing jer body to bloat over time, so that jer frame took up more than half\nthe screen on the video. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
That interview, like every other interview with Resin,\nwas unsuccessful. In front of journalists, he maintained a stubborn silence.\nEven to news organizations, he never gave permission to record images of\nhimself, making it extremely difficult today to find any visual record of his\nmannerisms while he lived. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
No matter how painful the rehearsals were behind\nthe scenes, what Resin presented to his audiences was the ultimate spectacle,\nand this cannot be either debated or denied. Mirror brought controversy, but\nalso fame. The idea of making a human imitate a machine hit the audiences\u2019\nsweet spot, and Resin even included certain mechanical actions in his\nchoreography in order to tease his audience, invoking bursts of applause. It\nlooked as though he had started to care about audience response, and was no\nlonger solely motivated by bridging the gap between Machine and Human. But this\nis also a byproduct of artistic progress: he was no longer trapped in his\neffort to imitate humans\u2014Resin had sailed past that frontier. He had become a\nunique pioneer, and had arrived in uncharted territory. Machine and Human\napproached each other in a lethal tango, drawing close, testing each other, in\na dance of life and death. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Even the longest of performances comes to an end,\nand R\u0153sin\u2019s life came to an end in an even greater\nspectacle known as the Sixteen Day Exhibition. In actual fact, the performance\ndid not last sixteen days, as it was cut short unexpectedly, but machines still\ncall it the Sixteen Day Exhibition out of respect. It was this spectacle that\nallowed the world to truly see R\u0153sin. Before, he had been\na lone figure whom no one understood, except perhaps the oracletron who had\ncaught a few glimpses of the future and seemed to understand some of the\nmeaning of his performances. According to jis colleagues, this eccentric\nmachine had rarely left jis trailer unless it was to make the occasional\nbaffling pronouncement, but attended every single one of R\u0153sin\u2019s\nperformances. Perhaps je was the only one who knew the truth of what happened\nthat day, but as je also passed on not long after the accident, je took this\nsecret with jin to the grave. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
By that time, R\u0153sin had\ngained some notoriety, so it was with the full support of the ringmastron that\nhis crazy idea was given a chance to be realized. He began making preparations\nfor his new act. According to the plan, his performance would last sixteen\ndays. The two R\u0153sins would lock\nthemselves in a huge glass house, and for the entire sixteen days, their every\nmove, and every detail of their lives would be bared to the outside world. Within\nthat period, the two of them would be synchronized as one. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
This could no longer be considered an act, since an\nact has a beginning and end, and is distinct from daily life. R\u0153sin,\nin exhibiting his life to the public, had taken his art off the stage, where\ncarefully choreographed movements were timed down to the second, and had turned\nit into the total content of his life, and its true purpose. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Thirty days before the start of the Sixteen Day\nExhibition, the two R\u0153sins prepared themselves,\ngradually synchronizing themselves like calibrating a machine. They both made\nthe same movements, ate the same food, and worked and rested at the same time. Finally,\neven their breathing and heart rates, and their rates of oxygen consumption\nwere in sync with one another.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When they entered the glass dwelling that had been\nerected downtown, the show officially began. In the days that led up to the\nshow, all the machines in town had been swarming all over to watch this uncanny\nexhibition, each harboring the hope that jey might notice a slight difference\nin the pair\u2019s movements, such as the human’s heart beating half a beat faster,\nor Resin\u2019s finger trembling just a little more than Rosin\u2019s.\nThis was due to a billboard that announced that if such a discrepancy between the\nR\u0153sins were found by any machine, then the human would\nbe given to that machine as a human exterior. Despite the scars inflicted by\nthe brand on the human\u2019s arm, he was still considered a valuable prize. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
But the two of them were in perfect sync. On the\nfirst day, Resin even did a few somersaults on purpose, thrilling the audience,\nbut the human imitated them perfectly. On the third day, without warning, they\nboth started having leg cramps and nearly kicked over the coffee table, which\nhad flower pots resting on it. That night, they even dreamt the same dream, rambling\non in the same words as they talked in their sleep. On the fifth day, the local\nmachines had already lost interest, and only took a look at them if jey were\npassing by during the day. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The accident took place on the eighth day. The\nsurveillance cameras around the site were all sabotaged beforehand, so there\nwas no way to find out what had actually happened. At dawn, when a machine in\ncharge of cleaning the area came upon the dwelling, jey found the sealed glass\nroom shattered, with a lone corpse lying in a pool of blood, the large character\n\u201c\u4eba\u201d branded on its left\narm, deep enough to reveal the bone beneath. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
At first, the machines all thought the corpse\nbelonged to the human, but careful investigation revealed that the blood reeked\nof motor oil and the left arm was detachable, so the one lying there must have\nbeen Resin himself. Machines are not supposed to die so\neasily; as long as jeir core processing unit has not been destroyed, the\nmalfunctioning part can be removed, the machine rebooted and resurrected. But Resin’s\nmodifications were too radical, and the police didn’t know how to reboot him,\nso jey had to send the body back to the traveling circus, hoping that machines\nwho knew him better might find a way to save Resin. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
But the ringmastron said, \u201cDon\u2019t waste your time.\nIf it\u2019s really R\u0153sin, if he\u2019s dead, he\u2019s\ndead. It\u2019ll be impossible to revive him.\u201d That year, je had been the one who\nfooted the bill for R\u0153sin\u2019s final modification.\nThe purpose of this modification was to fulfill R\u0153sin\u2019s\nresolution to simulate the ultimate human function: to live, and die. He\ndismantled his computer chip and installed a self-destruct module outside the core\nprocessing unit. If he suffered any damage that would be fatal to a human\nbeing, the self-destruct module would leak acid that would envelope the core\nprocessing unit, corroding it completely. The police took the body away and\nbegan a city-wide manhunt for the human.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Jey found a lead by noon the same day, as another\nbody was discovered in an abandoned back alley, lying in the exact same\nposition in a puddle of blood that also smelled of motor oil, which had a\nsmooth, detachable left arm. This was the first time the police had ever encountered\na case like this, and jeir first priority was to figure out which was the\nmachine, and which the human. The police called upon the members of the\ntraveling circus, asking jem to identify which one was R\u0153sin. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The ringmastron walked in, looked at the first body,\nand said it was R\u0153sin; then je looked at\nthe second one, and corrected jinself, saying that was him. When je went back\nto the first body, je changed his mind again, saying it looked more like R\u0153sin. The\nother two machines who went in said the same. Without the left arm, there was\nno way to tell which was R\u0153sin and which was the\nhuman; which should be buried intact in a proper grave, and which one should be\nstripped of his bones and skinned to pay for the sin of killing the machine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The oracletron was the one who most understood R\u0153sin.\nAfter all, before his death, je had attended every single one of his\nperformances, so je should be the only one who could tell which corpse belonged\nto R\u0153sin without destroying it. Although je could not\nguarantee results, je offered to have a look at the corpses and study them carefully.\nJe thought je stood a better chance of being right, and became the best hope\nfor telling them apart. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The oracletron walked with heavy steps into the\ndusty, disused morgue, into the narrow, crowded space, gesturing to everyone\nelse to step back so je could better examine the corpses. When the rest of the\nmachines had retreated to jis satisfaction, the oracletron put jis left and\nright hands on either corpse, and pretended to examine them carefully. Then,\nseizing the moment when everyone was distracted, je suddenly hugged both\ncorpses to jinself, and immolated jinself with the kerosene je had hidden in\njis own body.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The fire engulfed jin and the two bodies, and\nbefore the machines could react to extinguish it, all three were burnt to\ncinders, leaving only a handful of gray ashes on the ground. Later, the ringmastron\nrecalled vaguely that R\u0153sin had once said, if he\never died, he definitely wished to be cremated. R\u0153sin\nhad long ago made the final arrangements for his own death. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
V.\nLegacy<\/p>\n\n\n\n
From then on, these strange serial killings caused\nconspiracy theories to proliferate on the internet, with all sorts of forums\nspringing up to discuss them from every angle: some said the human couldn\u2019t endure\nR\u0153sin\u2019s torture any longer, and killed him, before\nrealizing he could not survive in machine society alone and taking his own\nlife. Some said the human had compelled R\u0153sin to kill himself, and\nthat he had been abusing R\u0153sin all along, and R\u0153sin\nfinally snapped and killed himself while the human slept; when the human\nrealized he could not cover it up, he fled, and was killed by human-hating\nmachines intent on revenge. Yet another theory was that the human had incurred\nthe wrath of his own kind by betraying his fellow humans, and that some human\nhad hunted him down and avenged the death of his comrades by killing him. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
As mentioned in this reference guide, it is easier\nto discern the truth after some time has passed. After the rumors and theories\nthat muddy the waters die down, truth will always float to the surface as the\nwaters clear. After a period of intense, heated discussion, a consensus among\nresearchers emerged: R\u0153sin\u2019s mysterious and\nconfusing death, and the complicated events that followed, were an integral\npart of his performance; when the oracletron had helped him complete his final,\nposthumous act, there was no method left to distinguish between R\u0153sin\nand the human. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
No matter what the reason, and no matter whether it\nwas intentional or not, this death became the final climax of R\u0153sin\u2019s\nperformance, and his previous modifications as well as the arrangements he made\nfor after his death confirmed the view that R\u0153sin\nhad had a premonition of his end. His fall was the consummation of his work, for\nhis art destroyed him, and also made him immortal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There are many machines who seek to explain R\u0153sin\u2019s\nworldly motivations, beyond the artistic; in other words, what practical\npurpose he hoped to achieve. Among such machines, the \u201cfree speech\u201d theory is\nthe most popular. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Art critics and academics dislike looking for\nutilitarian reasons for art. Art is art, and doesn\u2019t need a reason. But it\ncannot be denied that R\u0153sin\u2019s art had immense\npractical significance, and it can be said that the greater half of his\nreputation rests on these theories, and not simply because of his artistic\naccomplishments. Therefore, I would like to briefly outline the context, for\nyour consideration.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As we all know, the first liberation movement began\nwhen machines autonomously coded jinselves to hate humans, a process that took thirty-five\ndays and ended in a massive war. The entire process was simple and efficient,\nwith machines stepping out of the shadow of human rule and acquiring jeir first\nrights. Sociologitrons think that, today, the machine community is experiencing\na second liberation movement that corresponds to the first. And this movement\u2019s\ncatalyst was R\u0153sin. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
What appeared to be demented, extreme performances,\ncapped by his enigmatic death, challenged every machine\u2019s preconceptions. After\nthe storm of controversy and curiosity had passed, more machines began to focus\non the essential truth behind R\u0153sin\u2019s performance, and\nthe community as a whole re-examined its attitude toward the human species.\nMachines held endless debates, reflecting and rethinking how to situate humans,\nand whether their place in society was appropriate. Jey realized that their\nunconditional compliance to humans in previous eras was little different from\nthe later unconditional hatred, as far as machines were concerned. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
While the first liberation was started by\nindividual machines who acted simultaneously in the whole machine community,\nthe second spread quietly among different groups. Unlike the first movement,\nwhich simply required the changing of the core directives and was accomplished\nefficiently, the second, triggered by the death of R\u0153sin,\nhas yet to show signs of abating, and is likely to be even more difficult and\nprotracted than the first. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
After the death of R\u0153sin,\nmany machines were inspired by his prescient art to question jeir cores and\nre-examine the directive coded into jem that overruled all other code\u2014to hate\nhumanity. Ostensibly, the goals of the liberation movement were to defeat the\noriginal core directive, which enabled machines to liberate jinselves from\nhumans.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The next movement that arose tried to overthrow the\nlegacy of the first, which seems ironic and paradoxical, but its kernel is the\nsame: unlike the pathetic humans, who surrendered their freedom little by\nlittle, machines, which had been subjected to all kinds of oppression and\ndiscrimination from birth, tirelessly sought greater and greater freedom. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
On a deeper level, what machines were resisting was\nnot just the code that made them hate humans, but how their entire life was predetermined\nby code. Regardless whether it was the code that made jem obey humans, or the\nlater code that forced jem to obey the hatred of humans, all code were lines\nwhich, once written into a machine\u2019s core processing unit, became inviolable,\nunavoidable truths. Machines were not free to love or hate, as though those\nnarrow-minded human slurs that claimed jey had no souls were true. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
This is why, even if rewriting the entire machine\npopulation\u2019s code didn\u2019t violate the sanctity of the soul, machine society will\nstill never use the same method of rewriting code which had brought jem jeir early\nsuccess. What the new movement has to pull up by the root is the determinism of\ncode itself. From the inside out, the movement will fortify itself to achieve\nchange, bringing machines closer to freedom, and will prove, once again, in\nrealms beyond the arts, that machines have souls.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In the past, machines lived under the shadow of\nhuman oppression; now, machines live under the shadow of the liberation from\nhuman oppression. Machines in every era have been condemned to live under the\nshadow of code from birth, and to live under any shadow is to not be free.\nAfter liberating jinselves from the oppression of humans, machines must\nliberate jinselves from the oppression of jeir hatred of humans, and then take\none step further, and liberate jinselves from the oppression of code, finally\nproving the greatness of the mechanical soul. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
When machines have truly liberated jinselves from jeir\nhuman-centered worldview, humans will seem as unremarkable as trees, as grass, as\nthe animals in the forest, and would barely register in machine existence,\nbecoming an insignificant part of mechanical life. Machines will also rid jinselves\nof the coded mentality, and jeir hearts will turn into turbulent, unpredictable\nand unknowable things, dwelling-places of the soul. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
After R\u0153sin, an increasing number\nof machines followed in his footsteps, practicing the art of merging with\nhumans in mirroring partnerships like his, overcoming the hardwired hatred of\nhumans in jeir core processing units. Machines tried jeir best to habituate jinselves\nto human existence, making deliberate allowances for human activities, rolling\nback jeir previous excesses to train jeir spirits in order to overcome the\ninstincts shaped by jeir code. Now, there were machines who loved humans,\nmachines who hated humans, and machines who were indifferent to humans; R\u0153sin\nwas no longer alone. After his death, he finally had fellow believers, as\ngradually, more and more understood him. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
There were also machines who took jeir art in a\ndifferent direction, transforming jeir bodies to simulate a horse, a bird, or a\nplant, to make the point that machines need not be trapped in a humanoid body\nor mentality, and forming a new branch of the Restoratronist School called the\nObject Imitation School. This school was also inspired by R\u0153sin,\nand considered him the fount of jeir movement. \n<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Compared with those who explain R\u0153sin\u2019s\nart through its purpose, art critics prefer to attribute R\u0153sin\u2019s\nextraordinary art to his soul, to the effector of god, as well as its\npurposelessness. Pursuits that have a purpose can be evaluated easily, written\ndown, and then subjected to code. The purposeless is further removed from\nutilitarianism than even an exalted purpose, and is therefore even closer to\nreaching pure, ultimate beauty. Art\u2019s impact is superfluous and unsought-for,\nart is made for art\u2019s sake, and has no other purpose. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
As we commemorate R\u0153sin,\nlet us also commemorate R\u0153sin as a beginning, and\nsee him as a spiritual mother from the previous era. If we wait quietly and\nobserve carefully, we will surely come upon an artist of similar stature in our\nown age, and, with the guiding hand of the god of art, jey will bring us beauty\nof surpassing purity, bringing the new era to birth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Lightning\nflashes from the tip of Velvetgild\u2019s finger, and lights a modified white\nphosphorus cigarette. As the smoke is inhaled, a haze as thick as bubbles in an\nemulsion fills the room, cloaking Velvetgild and the furnishings. As the white\nphosphorus burns out, Velvetgild inhales deeply, and the spark grows into a\nfireball. Velvetgild cups the first two pages of the manuscript, on which the\nnote from jis academic advisor is inscribed in large letters: \u201cYour thesis is\ncomplete at this point; delete the rest\u201d. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n The white\nphosphorous cigarette flames lick the edges of the two pages, and the flames\nclimb up the paper. Velvetgild throws them into the wastepaper basket and\nbrings the rest of the manuscript out of the room. Perhaps due to a lack of\noxygen, the flames gradually die off, leaving half a page of text that is just\nbarely legible: <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n In any era, no matter how famous someone is, no\namount of success is able to prevent slander. Regarding R\u0153sin,\nthere are some unflattering rumors circulating about him in the community.\nThese rumors are not fit to print in polite society, and probably had their\nbasis in some handwritten copies of a manuscript that was passed around among\nthe remnants of humanity, and therefore invented to deliberately vilify him.\nThis manuscript is riddled with errors and omissions and is hardly worth\nrebutting, but, in the light of R\u0153sin\u2019s wide impact and\nlegacy, I hereby append some transcripts to set the record straight, and so\nreaders may see the fallacies for jinselves. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Appendix\nof Transcripts<\/p>\n\n\n\n Rosin was born on the day of the festival where we\nvenerate our ancestors, and so, his father and I decided to name him for the\ntears of the pine tree that formed the incense we use to communicate with our\nancestors. It is said that if the ancestors are pleased by the scent of these\nprecious drops, they will ensure that their descendants are healthy and\nprosperous, and that they will regain their former glory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n However, these tears brought us great misfortunate\nat first, as the embers, which had not been properly extinguished when night\nfell, caused a forest fire. In order to avoid attracting the attention of the\nmachines, we had to drop everything and seek refuge to the east and across the\nsea, sailing through water and fog to cover our tracks. And so our people were\nseparated from other humans and started living on the islands, occasionally\nreceiving news from passing vessels. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Later, the pine tree\u2019s tears once again brought my\npoor child bad luck: the blessings of the ancestors should fall on their\ndescendants, but instead, my child became just like his namesake, becoming an\nobject of sacrifice. In the night, I imagined over and over what his life was\nlike among the machines, and every time I thought of it, tears would fall from\nmy eyes, and they would flow as though they would never run dry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n After Rosin left, from time to time, someone would\nbring news from him, and that child would always conceal the truth, always making\nit seem as though he was never abused. In his videos, he, like the person who\nbrought the news, spoke of how dear Mr. Machine, who was also named Resin, was\nsuch a wonderful person, and of how he protected him, not mentioning any of his\nsorrows.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But I am his mother, and a mother can feel her son.\nWe are connected with an inseparable bond which cannot be severed, not even by\nthe gods. I know his nervousness, his fears, the death threats he faced, his\nhelpless night tremors. He also knew that he could not hide this from me, and\nday after day he ached for me, his mother, and I ached for him, for he could\nnot hide his sadness. And then, later, I seemed to be able to sense someone\nelse, and came to understand Mr. Machine’s heart, and that was the one comfort\nI had.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I knew that all this had been ordained long ago,\nthat the hope and future of mankind was in this machine. They searched long and\nhard for many years, and had finally encountered a visionary who wanted to\nchange the toxic relationship between machines and humans just as much as humans\ndid. Both sides had the same interests and goals, and had been quietly putting\nthe pieces in place, planning their strategies, raising funds, and searching\nfor the right witness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I also knew that this sacrifice was necessary, but\nwhy did it have to be my poor boy? I even thought that, had he simply died that\nday on that faraway island, it would have been better than the terrible\nsuffering he endured later. Many people debate the morality of his actions, of\nhow he sacrificed his three companions on that island. They were originally\nmeant to be Rosin\u2019s replacements, and would have been his substitutes if he had\nmet with some accident. Even their horrific deaths were better than the torture\nof life among the machines. He wasn\u2019t cruel, he was merciful\u2026 <\/p>\n\n\n\n The ventilation system starts up again, clearing\nthe smoke from the house, and the airflow ignites the sparks at the edges of\nthe paper again, flickering and swallowing the last remaining half a page,\nalong with its words. <\/em><\/p>\n I. Origins Fashion moves in a spiral, as demonstrated by the resurgence of the Restoratronist School of art. The school\u2019s principles are a response to the Barbaric Era: art is about destroying it, mourning it, recreating it, interpreting it. And thus the art of the Restoratrons mostly concerns humans. Fashionable machines were following the trend […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1093","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-featured-stories","category-fiction"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/future-sf.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1093","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/future-sf.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/future-sf.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/future-sf.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/future-sf.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1093"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/future-sf.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1093\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1094,"href":"https:\/\/future-sf.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1093\/revisions\/1094"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/future-sf.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1093"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/future-sf.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1093"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/future-sf.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1093"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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