Artist Machine

This piece is a response narrative for the Autofiction x Worldbuilding submissions call.  It was inspired by this Autoficitonal seed. For this call, we asked people to write a response to another author’s autofictional submission, based on the original piece and this bit of cryptic world lore.

This, and other Worldbuilding pieces are being published to a Wiki, which will allow contributors to edit, link, and otherwise annotate their work and that of their peers.

This article is about the _____ Inc. Artist Machine. For the band, see Artist Machine (band).

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Media

Artist Machine hawker (San ____, CA – April, XXXX)

Press here for recording of “Artist Machine hawker, San ____ [identity unknown]”

Transcript [Show]: “You look like the kind of guy could use an Artist Machine. I don’t mean anything by it, but tell me, am I wrong? The look in your eye. No, I don’t mean anything by it. I just can see, well, intelligence. Like when certain animals look you in the eye. Don’t be offended, sir, I mean the most intelligent of animals. Animals so smart they scare you. Come on, you know what I mean. I bet you tried to sell a pilot. I did, too. You get any generals, at least? Good for you. Yeah, I got one. At New Line. Long time ago. They wound down their TV side. You ever see that one show? Freddy’s Nightmares? It’s like The Twilight Zone but Freddy Krueger introducing the episodes. Anthology. Yeah, it was New Line TV. I liked that show. There were a couple of really good ones. I miss syndication, nothing ever really filled that void. So. Still trying to break in, right? No, nothing like that. It isn’t obvious, no. I’m an artist and I can spot other artists, that’s it. I’m better at this than I am at making my art. It’s my real gift. I’m still an artist, though. Not saying I’m not. And so are you. You’re an artist, a true artist. And the Machine won’t change that. It’s an extension of your powers. You’re in charge. You’re behind the curtain, so to speak. Well, I know a man who did it that way for real, I mean with an actual curtain. He goes to trade shows. Demonstrations. He’s not a real artist, though, not like you or me. The work suffered for it, and so did his sales. Because he’s a salesman. And you are an artist, not a salesman. You do the math. You want to see? Let me show you. Sure, here’s my card. Are you looking me up? There’s no need. I don’t think you’ll find anything. I mean, I know you won’t. I paid a service. Come on, talk to me. You’re really not going to find anything. They are extremely good at what they do. No, it has nothing to do with this. It’s my last job. Abusive situation. Now they can’t find me. It was that bad. Went on for years. I was living in my boss’s attic, they just…they controlled my whole life. I know it’s fucked up to compare, but it was like slavery. I got out. This woman who, like, she, like, for a living she finds trafficked people, indentured workers, and frees them. If they don’t have papers, she helps them through the asylum process. She’s like a detective. Works solo but she’s paid by an NGO. She’s that good. They just sort of let her do her thing. She doesn’t just free you and ditch you, either. Aside from the legal part, she helps people find housing and even more (paid!) work. Work with dignity. No, I’m kidding. I mean, she does do that, she helped me find this job. I’m kidding about the ‘dignity’ part. No such thing. I mean, it’s not very dignified, is it, me approaching you like this? I don’t think so. I’m sorry I did, just because, well, I don’t know you, I don’t know what’s going on with you, I don’t know if your day is good or bad. I hope it’s good. I do know you’re an artist. That I can tell. And I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t believe in it. I am overcoming my every reservation, in every burning cell of my body, to talk to you here today in a professional capacity. This isn’t natural for me. I’m sure you can tell. My parents: my mother was a jailor—her name for it was ‘corrections professional’—and my father ran a bakery. When he made his first hint of money, he quit doing the baking for good and instead exploited baking students, because he had a good reputation, at least for a time, and they sought him out. But this isn’t like that at all. I’ve seen what an Artist Machine can do. It can help people. It can help you. Give it a try. It isn’t like tricking young bakers. It is a machine for real. A tool, I’m saying. It’s still you. It doesn’t change that. It’s not problematic, it’s the future.”

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