[ WP ] Art has been outlawed .

To the one who finds this safe, congratulations. You found it. The life works of me, Parav Smart, Jason Liens and Esther Macklemore. By the time this safe has been found, hopefully we will have passed on. This safe will be the only remnants of our presence in this world. 
 
 This safe contains everything that we have ever lived for. Enclosed in this letter is an inventory of all the works stored in here. If you have come from an age in which our oppression is no more, then allow me to explain this assemblage. 
 
 At the time of writing, the year is 2086. Our world is quickly assimilating with our technology. Automating our lives to the fullest extent: cooking, sleeping, scientific study, politics. All of these things are no longer worked by man's uneven touch and are replaced by the fine grip of a machine. I admit, they are better than us. Should a man and a robot ever compete the robot will always win over the man. 
 
 The events that followed were no surprise. Humans were deemed `` imperfect beings'' and were forced to become augmented with robotics to `` reduce random error''. My brother, who was among the first to be `` improved'' had changed from his former self, physically and mentally. His arms and legs were made of hard plastic to hide the humming machinery underneath. I could not feel a pulse, nor did he breathe. His face was made of a rubbery material that was not quite skin. But his eyes... His eyes were like those found on a taxidermied animal, they stared into your own eyes like a painting in a haunted house. His eyes stared at you from across the room, head unmoving. When he spoke, we saw the inside of his dried, pink mouth and heard the rasp of a voice modulator that was almost, but not quite the brother I knew. 
 
 He did n't think, he just did. He did n't talk to us unless prompted and even then he replied with a curt `` Let me work.'' Never did he show any emotion, even when Mother took her own life, he continued his programmed routine as though a large fly had been hung in the middle of the room. 
 
 Another thing you need to know, is that in the world of certainty, any uncertainties are erased. Brutally. Art, for all the joy it can bring, for all the stories it can tell, for all the knowledge it can convey, was an uncertainty. You have never heard of the works of Para Crozier because her paintings were converted to complex glucose molecules following her `` conversion''. 
 
 One would expect resistance of some sort to come up from this. Surely someone tried to make a stand against this atrocity of a world! And you would be right. People have time and time again fought back against the machines, but machines are just that: machines. They do n't feel pain, they have no compassion, they will pursue a goal until it is done, no matter what. 
 
 But art is not something that can be sorted and compartmentalized. It floods like water into every nook and cranny, everywhere you look is an opportunity for creativity. Creating is the very reason we wake and work. But given the situation, there is very little that can be done against the calculating mechanisms. Liens and Macklemore have already gone, I am the only one left. I have stayed behind to write this note to whoever finds our only treasure in this world. 
 
 So there you have it. That is my account of the events that have transpired in my time. The works in the safe are yours to take, seeing as we have no control over their fate. My only request is that you take care of them, and, if possible, let people see that which we have created. After all, art is only of use when it is enjoyed by others. 
 
 * -- Smart*
