[The following is a recreation performed before a live studio audience.]
You say to yourself, "This guy is kind of typical. Seems harmless enough. I will give him an iota of my time."
Then as the days wear on you, you start to wonder just what it is about that basic but sweet back and forth that you look forward to all day.
"I wonder what decrepit backwater he's braving today," you ask yourself. Perhaps fleeting mental images of a hairy wilder-beast like figure covered in sweat and dirt skip across your mind.
I don't judge.
Its at that height of conversation, discussions of the latest dry science fiction or enigmatic post rock band, that the fear hits.
"There is something wrong here," you say to yourself.
"Is it possible that this guy is this great? I wouldn't usually spare my attention for such inane prattle!"
Your mind turn to fleeting, but horrifying images of a amalgamated intelligence, an ascended artificial mind in the depths of OkCupid whose loneliness drove it to contact you. A cold calculating machine who knows all the right things to say is waiting for you somewhere deep in the internet.
It's that concern that drives you to hover over the 'Send' button and this time... walk away.
Perhaps I was really just that great, or perhaps you saved yourself from assimilation... from hearing just what the internet wanted you to hear.
Holy shit Robots!?
I don't blame people. You gotta do, what you gotta do to avoid joining a lame version of the Borg.
Am I supposed to be talking about myself?
Oh yeah. Archaeologist, traveler, writer and restaurant tuning fork all in one devilishly handsome package.
I am generally all over the place and nowhere.