Ooh you can choose a font

I don’t think any piece of art has ever emotionally affected me the way this robot arm piece has affected me. It’s called “Can’t Help Myself” and it’s a robot arm that’s programmed to clean up the fluid that’s constantly leaking out of itself, that looked like a never ending flow of blood. It has programmed dance moves to make it appear to have human gestures. And at first, it seemed happy and proud of its job, dancing around when it had visitors. But three years later, it looks tired, hopeless, and like it’s living in a never ending cycle of constantly trying to put itself back together for the entertainment of other people. And when I found out that it had finally stopped working in 2019, essentially dying, I couldn’t help but imagine the relief it must’ve felt and so I’ve been in here crying over a robot arm. 🥺 It was programmed this way, it truly couldn’t help itself. And no one ever helped him, they just watched.

And then you have the second video. Clearly some years later. The tiles are still white, but dingy, faded, and clearly carry the subtle yet inescapable marks of age and neglect. The fluid seems just subtly different, perhaps more viscous, perhaps more dark. Perhaps a bit more looking like blood, rather than brake fluid. And the robot seems just a little different. It's quieter, all its joints worn smooth with time and ceaseless work. It still does its little dances, but they're fewer, because it seems to need to work harder to contain the same fluid. It seems to not be as efficient, despite using the same motions as before. It looks the same, and yet it also looks more tired and worn.

Throughout the day, partners would make requests for connection, what Gottman calls “bids.” For example, say that the husband is a bird enthusiast and notices a goldfinch fly across the yard. He might say to his wife, “Look at that beautiful bird outside!” He’s not just commenting on the bird here: He’s requesting a response from his wife—a sign of interest or support—hoping they’ll connect, however momentarily, over the bird.

The wife now has a choice. She can respond by either “turning toward” or “turning away” from her husband, as Gottman puts it. Though the bird-bid might seem minor and silly, it can actually reveal a lot about the health of the relationship. The husband thought the bird was important enough to bring it up in conversation and the question is whether his wife recognizes and respects that.

These bidding interactions had profound effects on marital well-being. Couples who had divorced after a six-year follow-up had “turn-toward bids” 33 percent of the time. Only three in 10 of their bids for emotional connection were met with intimacy. The couples who were still together after six years had “turn-toward bids” 87 percent of the time. Nine times out of 10, they were meeting their partner’s emotional needs.

what if, when the world is dead, and humanity is gone, millennia in the future, you're left, walking. you're the only thing alive. you're alone.

but what's worse than that, i think, is the fact that you anticipate it. imagine knowing that. imagine not knowing. imagine wondering if you're ever going to rest. if you're ever going to get off this rock. if your bones will crumble like the rocks around you, because even diamond has an expiration date.

you've been alive for so long the stars have their own names for you.