Rather, I've seen what it was. What it was four years ago. This was released on my 41rst birthday...
And it gets more terrifying!
What's wild is that around this time I started watching Black Mirror. This beautiful assemblage of robotic shoulders, neck, and a head is inching her way towards consciousness. I have never been so uneasily hopeful. The mother of the Robot Uprising is a Black Jew. It makes sense.
My delight in her frightens me. There are times when I lose all hope in people. When I lose all hope in myself. I'm not sure if my joy in Bina48 comes from a place of hope or hopelessness.
Does it matter?
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