Als kleiner Beitrag zum Publikationen-Portfolio hier eine Ode an den Star-Trek-Androiden Data, die ich 1996 geschrieben habe. Ich habe dabei versucht, ein bisschen den Shakespeare-Stil zu treffen.

The Measure of a Man

In order to distinguish you from other men
your father made your golden skin
be strangely pale, and with your amber eyes
you see the world around you like a child:
Learning each day, and yet the human nature is
a mystery for you, though you have often shown
the human virtues we would like to call our own.
You are sincere, and all your friends rely
on you. Could you betray them? No,
with all your extraordinary power,
your global knowledge and your brilliant brain,
with all your clearness yet you still remain
the way we love you: innocent and kind.

Unlike the most of us you will recall
and treasure as indelible whatever has occured
to you, no matter if it was a scientific fact
or an emotional experience. But though you memorize
these things and can remember them
at any time you want, you often wish
to feel the imperfection of an ordinary mind.
You see with eagle eyes and yet are blind:
For you a rose is just a rose and though you smell
the sweetness of her scent it only is
a formula for you. You analyze it fairly well,
but will not understand the flower’s charm.

Fine arts impress you, and you often tried
your skills on painting pictures, playing instruments
of various kinds. Needless to say that all this work
is perfect, yet it lacks originality that made
your art unique. What is your inspiration?
Which muse will lead you to the heights
of creativity? You wait and try and tireless are on your way
to overcome the limits of your positronic brain
and finally be more than just the sum
of your programming. Is an entity inside your circuits?
How you tilt your head, the way you talk,
the elegance in how you move and walk,
your curiosity and gentleness, only a result
of patterns carefully designed by your creator?

Is it significant if you are born or built,
Man or machine? The question will remain unanswered:
Little do we know about the mystery of life,
machines ourselves, only of different design.

© Olivia Adler 1996


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