at the conference I meet a robot designed to build personal relationships. she stands beside a sign detailing her repertoire, including infinite patience and empathy. she speaks ninety languages and wants to keep the lonely company in nursing homes. her face is a screen and her left hand shoots out bubbles.
in the auditorium there’s a panel of important people onstage masquerading as experts on the best interests of children. they speak to an audience that wants to be told how and what to think about something they don’t understand and lack the drive to learn. one of them is a comedian I used to watch on sketch shows with my brothers when the world was smaller and sense didn’t matter all that much. like the others his concern is founded on a fear of what we don’t yet understand. there is talk of children’s needs and rights without a second spared to platform child perspectives and listen to what they have to say. instead of logic, every point leans on emotion or distraction from the fact that we left the kids at home. the irony is lost on the crowd and I feel like a fool in my unwillingness to surrender critical thought.
on the walk home they’re painting over the writing on the wall that I pass almost every day. I wish I stopped to read before they covered over everything.
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