A Script for I, you and Cetacean.
As we dream, we dream of dolphins.
We hear their calls and we call back.
They penetrate our eardrums like the ringing of a mobile phone.
We see them gliding through the sleekness of the swimming pool, an ocean within an ocean.
Oh, this glorious hybrid ecology of ours,
Where two ends meet, interconnected and playfully replicated.
Don’t call it language but listen through your fingertips,
Through your hands, through your limbs,
your body of wild embrace.
Through the weightlessness of water, we are no longer human and not yet other,
A post-human cyborg
In a sea full of cells for a sea full of pixels,
Merging across the spectrum of data and ultrasonic sound.
I remember you diving deep into its depths, away from the noise,
Away from the world so dry and all its fire.
Latex melted onto skin,
You become one of them and one of kin.
When you skype me, your voice travels through oceans,
Encased in layers of insulated plastic.
This is not a tale of romance but a prebiotic soup of fictional truths, sibling.
Of longing and delusion, In flux and of becoming,
Well you’ll have yours and I’ll have mine, shared only by mind and only by time.
The seaweed absorbed the chlorinated water,
Floating by legs and feet.
This ocean, too shallow to swim.
Sling the seaweed over one shoulder,
To make a saltwater pool on the marble floor.
Flexible, mobile and elongated.
Slithering, dripping, no longer organic.
THE OCEAN, MY OCEAN, YOUR OCEAN, OUR OCEAN!
The ocean is our home, it’s where we were born and it’s where we shall die.
But for now, so long and thanks for all the fish.
Striding forth through science fiction of simple truths,
Of air-filled buoyancy,
Of technical mobility,
To a future of cohabitation.
For better or for worse,
We do.
As we dream, we dream of dolphins.
We hear their calls and we call back.
They penetrate our eardrums like the ringing of a mobile phone.
We see them gliding through the sleekness of the swimming pool, an ocean within an ocean.
Oh, this glorious hybrid ecology of ours,
Where two ends meet, interconnected and playfully replicated.
Don’t call it language but listen through your fingertips,
Through your hands, through your limbs,
your body of wild embrace.
Through the weightlessness of water, we are no longer human and not yet other,
A post-human cyborg
In a sea full of cells for a sea full of pixels,
Merging across the spectrum of data and ultrasonic sound.
I remember you diving deep into its depths, away from the noise,
Away from the world so dry and all its fire.
Latex melted onto skin,
You become one of them and one of kin.
When you skype me, your voice travels through oceans,
Encased in layers of insulated plastic.
This is not a tale of romance but a prebiotic soup of fictional truths, sibling.
Of longing and delusion, In flux and of becoming,
Well you’ll have yours and I’ll have mine, shared only by mind and only by time.
The seaweed absorbed the chlorinated water,
Floating by legs and feet.
This ocean, too shallow to swim.
Sling the seaweed over one shoulder,
To make a saltwater pool on the marble floor.
Flexible, mobile and elongated.
Slithering, dripping, no longer organic.
THE OCEAN, MY OCEAN, YOUR OCEAN, OUR OCEAN!
The ocean is our home, it’s where we were born and it’s where we shall die.
But for now, so long and thanks for all the fish.
Striding forth through science fiction of simple truths,
Of air-filled buoyancy,
Of technical mobility,
To a future of cohabitation.
For better or for worse,
We do.