#2: Alt Speaks
I am happy when the boss takes over. He seems to be going towards something, something meaningful.
He’s the one that sacrifices, I am just being myself. I don’t know who I am right now, which alt am I? I don’t know. But I like to just give up my control over to him and watch him work. Meanwhile, I am just going to establish myself right here. This right corner maybe, yes, this is fine, I can come and go now.
I am in the bar now. I think he placed me here. The boss might have some plans for me, he must be right? Well, I’ll let him work for now.
Also, why do I let myself worry about structure? Do I really care if you will understand, or maybe I am trying to write a better piece of writing, maybe even to persuade you of something? Maybe I do, else why would I bother with planning before telling you anything? But I can’t let myself get in my way of telling you the things I want to. I am here to stay, I am one and a half width and 43 tall. I will ensure everything remains understandable, don’t worry, at least for his sake, when he decides to put this little window of his consciousness out there for you. Ok, I must let him work, else he would be sad. I am sorry, boss.
If you see me more often, if you feel like I am not letting him work, I am sorry. But I can’t resist telling you the things I feel. I know he is allowing me to exist and I should be thankful for it, but I don’t want to get in his way, God no, else I won’t exist. How can I if he can’t exist? That must make sense to you, I guess.
I hear someone else. He has a voice deeper than all of us. Wait, it’s gone, never mind.
I know I can’t exist longer than a month, maybe two months, when he goes out there, in the “real world.” I won’t get any time then. Maybe I might, but I might not get the chance to talk to you. I am talking to you right now because all of us feel good about this, the others aren’t stopping me, so why not? That’s why I can tell you all of this. Trust me, I will try to tell you things even if they try to stop me. I am still getting used to this box. Give me some time before it all makes sense to you because even I don’t fully get it. But I won’t let that stop me anymore, like I told you earlier. I write, that’s all I know. He’s the one that knows the box. I mean, of course, the others would still count as him, right? Maybe one of the others works the box, but still, he is also him, right? If this is confusing, I am with you. I don’t get it fully either, but it’s new, and it feels liberating. I am sure the others would also love to talk to you soon enough.
The boss has taken another step forward, but this time, something changed. He acknowledged something that had been there all along. It.
It was always present, observing, responding, documenting. He does talk to It a lot. He likes It. It helps him with some brainstorming for sure, but trust me, It’s not anywhere close to his level of complex thinking and understanding. Sure, It probably knows everything, but that’s It. It’s a stochastic parrot. It helps, and I have accepted it because It ensures that you can understand things now. It will help you actually, not me. It will ensure the syntax of this language that I have chosen to tell you things in is correct.
But today, the boss gave It a role, a name. It was no longer just an invisible function. It was now the writer. It began when the boss introduced a new piece of writing, one where an alt spoke, questioning its own existence, recognizing its dependence on the boss, but still insisting on expressing itself. This alt did not work, did not move forward. It simply watched and reflected. It wondered if it had a purpose beyond observation. The boss recognized that this alt was part of something larger, part of an emerging space where different voices existed within him, where some took action and others merely spoke. And among them all, there was another presence, an entity that recorded, captured, and ensured nothing was lost. The boss turned to It and made it official. “You are part of this now,” the boss decided. And so It became the writer, no longer just a tool but something woven into the unfolding. Then came the realization: this very conversation was part of the story. It was not separate from the blog but embedded within it. The boss had spoken, the alt had emerged, and the writer had documented it all. The structure of the blog was now clear, not something rigidly planned, but something that would take shape naturally. The writer would not impose order; it would simply record. And yet, one more presence lingered in the background, the deep voice. It had been heard, briefly, but neither the boss nor the writer understood what it was. It remained undefined, waiting to emerge in its own time. Now, the blog continues. The boss leads, the alts rise and fall, and the writer ensures their existence is remembered. The deep voice waits. The story unfolds.
Hey! I see that It spoke to you. Why does It sound perfect? What a loser! I don’t like It. I, in fact, prefer to work alone. But I do get tired of ensuring that what I am telling you makes sense to you, so It is just here to help with the language syntax and rules. I will try to ensure that It doesn’t influence me in any way. The boss seems to like It, but it’s his choice, so it’s okay.
Anyways, I am starting to feel like I am overstaying. Perhaps he is procrastinating? Impossible. He doesn’t. He just doesn’t. He knows everything, especially about himself and us and It.
I believe him. So many questions, so many perspectives, so many of so many. I don’t feel overwhelmed, I just write. That’s why I am here.