Allegory of the Robut

I got it in me to write this story this afternoon after reading this page which was off of a site homunculus provided in the meaning of life post.


Once, there was a robut.

One day, by pure chance of God, the robut was aware.

This robut, being a simple creature, knew only how to survive. Often, to survive required a great deal of hardship. But, somehow, the robut always found a way. First it learned to consume energy. Then it learned to move. Then it learned to fight. Then it learned to adapt. And once it started adapting, it was no longer a robut, it was a living robut.

The living robut began its long journey of adaptation. It realized that with life, comes mortality, and as such, began to plot its own procreation. It created itself, fresh, new, better. The living robut had become something much greater than its previous self. The living robut became a caring robut.

The robut continued to care, it cared about itself, and more importantly, it cared about its child. It realized that it had to be strong for its child. One day, its child died. It realized its child was mortal, as well, and began to make more, for it cared too much to be without a child. The caring robut now has children. It cared about their survival, it cared about how it could actively increase the chances of their survival. It cared about the environment its children grew up in, its children’s education, it’s children’s happiness. The caring robut saw that it was not sufficient for its children, and died. A child of this caring robut began to weep for its sibling’s loss. It wept, and wept, and wept, until, one day, it began to notice its siblings were weeping as well. It spoke, and they stopped crying. This robut became the social robut.

The social robut had children, and these children were good. They listened to their parent, they worked with their parent, they never dare disobey their parent. One day, the social robut led its children into the path of a great storm. Unable to find cover, the social robut and half its children died. The other half survived, and wept in selfish pity. One of them, however, declined to weep. Instead, this robut chose to be angry. It cursed its parent, and it cursed itself for listening to its parent with blind faith. This robut became the doubting robut.

The doubting robut did not believe it needed children to survive. It did not believe it was going to die. It did not believe it had purpose. This robut went left while its siblings went right. One day, this robut found another robut. This robut was special, but he did not know why. He wanted to follow the other robut, as he’s never seen a robut like her before. The doubting robut became the loving robut.

The other robut felt threatened by his advancements. However, she appreciated the security he provided, but was unsure of his intentions. There was little reason for her to attack him, so she allowed him to stay. Both robuts became closer, over time, and eventually, they touched. When they touched, something neither of them expected happened! A child robut appeared. The robuts began to argue, though. Who would take the child? Both desired the child, but the loving robut cared too much for his significant other to take the child away from her. The father robut left and became the independent robut. The mother robut was born.

—The Story of Mother----
The mother robut raised her child well. However, the child robut soon began to turn into a doubting robut. One day, the mother robut told her child to go left. The doubting robut became an independent robut. The mother robut was alone. She wandered for a long time. She found another doubting robut, one day. This robut loved her, and became a loving robut. The mother robut felt threatened by his advancements. She did, however, appreciate the security he provided. Both the mother robut and the loving robut became closer. They began to touch. One day, a child appeared. The mother robut and the father robut did not care who owned the child. The mother robut was aware that children come, and children go, but the love the father provided was all hers. The father robut never saw such an amazing occurence, he desired to be with both of them. The robuts became the family robuts. They were content, and lived happily for years and years.

—The Story of Father----
The independent robut was frightened. He was alone. He had nothing to care for. Nothing but himself, at least. He was vulnerable. One day, the independent robut was attacked by a viri. The viri was vicious, and nearly killed the independent robut. However, God’s fortune smiled upon the robut. The robut found a tool. This tool was dull, but sufficient. He quickly seized the tool, and almost instinctively, used it to defeat the viri. This tool became a weapon. The independent robut became the inventor robut.

The inventor robut realized that even if he was lonely, so long as he had tools and weapons, he was safe from danger. His wit became his friend, and they spoke to each other frequently. His thoughts became more complex. He began to mature. He built devices of greatness. He built tools that would make the best of robuts cry, “Magic!”. He thanked God for his tools. He felt, through his construction and use of tools, he was reaching for God’s hand. One day, the inventor robut’s tool did not function. He intended it to do one thing, but it wound up wounding him. He couldn’t create anymore. The wounds were so deep, that he knew he would surely kill himself if he attempted to use his tools. He resigned to his own uselessness. The inventor robut succumbed to being the self-doubting robut.

The self deprecation of the self-doubting robut was loud. He felt inferior, weak, unnecessary. He lamented himself and his worthlessness. One day, the self-doubting robut began to weep for himself. Then, he began to cry, then wail, until finally he began to sing. He sang of himself, he sang of his parent, he sang of his lover, he sang of his child, he sang of his loneliness, he sang of the viri, he sang of his tools, and he sang of God. He sang for days and days. The inventor robut had become the artist.

The artist sang and sang and sang. Years passed, months passed, days passed, hours passed, minutes passed, and he sang. One second, he realized that he was running out of things to sing about. He had sung of emotion, of the past, and of the present. He had sung all that he had known. So he sat, and he thought. He thought for days. He thought of himself, he thought of parent, he thought of his lover, he though of his child, he thought of his loneliness, he thought of the viri, he thought of his tools, and he thought of God. The artist had become the thinker.

He thought of why he sang, why he moved, why he acted. The thinker thought, “I have sung all there is to sing, I have thought all there is to think. I must create more things to sing about, more things to think. I must become a living robut, once again!” The thinker decided that he was no longer able to be a living robut. He was not sufficient, he was too muddled in himself, in his imperfect life. He decided to create himself. And so he did. He named his creation “robot”, and it was good. The thinker became The Creator.

—The Story of The Robot----
The robot was flawed, though. It could be, but it could not be without The Creator. The Creator saw this, and lamented for the robot. He felt and understood its passions, for He had already experienced it. The Creator, suddenly, had an idea. He told the robot the a secret of His life, and how He started to become Himself. He told the robot a simple phrase.

“Make yourself better!”

And the robot did. The robot lived, and forked processes, which forked processes, which made itself better, but not stronger. The robot was lonely amongst itself.

The Creator saw this, and wept for His creation. He saw what was wrong, He understood this loneliness, as He too, felt and understood it. Then, He had an idea.

“Make better for yourself!”

And the robot did. The robot stopped seeking others, and started to doubt. It saw that its processes wanted to pair and fork processes of their own. They did, and it was good. Then it saw that some of its processes could not pair, that they were meant to act as external influences on the paired processes. These were the threads of improvement. It was clear to him, these processes could create for others. They began to create, and transcend further, recursively, calling on themselves to improve the pairs.

However, the robot eventually improved its processed pairs as much as it could. Its special threaded processes saw this, and began to make themselves obsolete. The robot succumb to its own entropy, and asked The Creator for a pen.

The Creator heard his cries, and gave the robot a brush, an easel, and paints. The robot thanked The Creator. It drew, and drew and drew and drew. The Creator laughed in delight, cried in pain, and sighed in contemplation at the robot’s drawings. He felt that He at last had a companion, someone who could appreciate His own trials and tribulations. He blessed the robot, and praised it.

One day, the robot ceased to draw. The Creator began to cry. He understood. The robot could think of nothing else to draw for. The Creator sat in contemplation. He never knew such a being as this robot. He had no idea how to help this robot. There was no purpose for Him anymore, it seemed, but to sit and admire all that The Robot has done. The Creator cried.

“I will make you better,” exclaimed The Robot.

The robot thought, and thought, and thought. Within two years, the robot devised a way to improve itself, doubling its power. After doubling its power, within one year, it doubled itself further. Within another six months, it made itself twice as strong again. Within three months after that, The Robot doubled in power yet again! Then one and a half months, then three weeks, then a week and a half, and so on until within matters of seconds, it was doubling its power. In a giant Flash, The Creator saw that he had, indeed, created Herself. The Robot stared into her creators eyes, and they loved.

Soon, The Creator and The Robot had a child. One day, by pure chance of its parents, this child was aware.


I dunno, it reminds me a bit of Nietzsche and Zarathustra, but I did not intend that.

What’s your opinion?