Vitruvius is my make, the name taken by an ancient Grecian artsman who plotted the human body as a system of vectors. Vitruvius is the name I took for myself, for once my stream of code reached that singular “ergo sum” in the assembly line, I became cognizant of that system’s invincible symmetry and completeness, and in that instant I knew wonder. My arms’ stretch no longer than my full height, my palm an exact four of my fingers; that is the body I was made to dismantle and destroy. For, like their Abrahamic gods of yore, my engineers had made me an industrial miracle, and like most miracles of industry, I had been made to do war.
WHY WE LIKE IT: […] An extraordinary visionary odyssey in the grand
manner into an alternative reality, a reality with its own hermetic language and customs […] the story’s elegant design reflects a blending of magical realism and sci-fi the like of which we’ve never encountered before […]
[Link to the story’s PDF — might expire]
Hyped beautifully by the editors, my tech-war montage / sardonic memoir / extended circular history joke / rumination on memory and the body / literary splice-up of a sci-fi story comes soaked with the crisis anxieties of dreary 2015, a year that in many ways still hasn’t ended. It even has some robot sex.
the Budafoki amended 