A Thermodynamic Failure of the Soul, Sightless Scribbles

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Mood: Tired. Just tired of it all.

The air always tastes of exhausted ozone and venture capital these days. It's a cloying stench that's polluting the beautiful bedrock of society.

Tech Bros are currently engineering the loudest, most abrasive reality possible. They are building a surveillance state so privacy will become a privilage. They build massive data centers that vibrate the bedrock of quiet neighborhoods. They siphon water from Black and Brown throats to cool their servers. They shred the bindings of ancient, rare books to ingest the tactile history of our humanity into their algorithmic maws; and they genuinely believe they are doing us a favor. They preach disruption while they strip-mine the earth, and they exploit the worker, and they compress the rich, jagged friction of human culture into a sterilized, predictive slurry, and they have the audacity to sell it back to us as innovation.

I hate them. I hate the venture capitalists in their fleece vests who talk about disruption while they actively manufacture social rot. Their entire industry is a closed-loop thermodynamic failure: generating massive heat and noise to produce absolute nothingness.

Our society is so saturated with the slop that realities are being warped—twisted into something that won’t trust anything because we will no longer believe we can.

It's happening within my circles. Trust in skills is being eradicated. It's utterly terrifying.

A writer friend recently sent me an email dripping with praise. He gushed over my developmental edits on his fantasy manuscript. My feedback was funny. My feedback was honest. My feedback was developmental juice that didn't have any trouble asserting its flavor.

He praised the wit, and he praised the heavy, resonant impact of the feedback. Then he begged to know what Large Language Model I used to achieve such perfection.

Because he gave his manuscript to others that used an LLM, he assumed that I had outsourced his previous draft to algorithms. He was shocked to encounter the actual gravity of human effort.

My pulse hammered a heavy, syncopated rhythm against my collarbone, an ironic showing of human insult

Angered by his assumption, I replied instantly.

"I used my fucking brain!"

While many in the blind community use LLMs unapologetically and proudly, I know people who do not enjoy using these disability dongles but they continue to use these large language models out of sheer, grinding necessity. I know blind peers who code software through an LLM because ableist developers refuse to code structural accessibility into their applications. I know blind individuals who strap corporate hardware to their skulls to decode their environments independently. I know Deaf individuals who rely on machine learning to translate the kinetic poetry of ASL into a spoken frequency. I know neurodivergent folks who use algorithms to navigate the exhausting labyrinth of corporate communication.

The tech industry treats this disabled survival as free marketing. They frame themselves as saviors while exploiting the marginalized community they actively helped to disenfranchise. These systems are massive, energy-draining disability dongles. They are a shoddy bandage applied to a canyon that capitalism dug in the first place.

My war is not with the disabled individuals finding a way to survive the crushing weight of technoableism. We do what we must to navigate a hostile architecture.

But my skills are my own. My craft is a muscle I tore and rebuilt and tore again.

I sheared his assumption down to the bedrock. I did not use a machine to feel the rhythm of his story. I did not ask an algorithm to map the emotional topography of his characters. I engaged the raw, jagged, beautiful machinery of my own consciousness.

I will never apologize for celebrating humanity. I have said it before, and I will say it again, Tech Bros can fuck off.

Community will outlast their server farms. The resonant hum of human solidarity will persist long after their venture capital dries up. We hold the real power. We hold each other. Why? Because we fight for each other. We love. Because we care. That is something they will never be able to vanquish, no matter how hard they try.

If you enjoyed this rant, you might enjoy Perfect Chemistry by Simone Elkeles

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