Miss Robot.

His calm, silent eyes quietly follow her around the room, as she moves with an odd sense of abject authority. He has chosen her as his latest subject, for her fascinating contradictions will eventually serve as punishment. Everything she does contradicts something she just did; her glowing yet crooked smile, warm interactions discounted by inability to enforce physical contact, and subtle self-deprecation infused with belligerent arrogance. And yet, through all these masks constructed by doubt, the reality of her actions go unnoticed by the strangers who think they know her – even those seemingly organic movements, driven by the frontal lobes of conscious thought. She is calculated, manipulative, cunning, and smart – and the loneliest heart the wrong side of a serial singles convention. Her name is Miss Robot; created by fear, driven by suppression, and Mister Nature is about to casually stroll into her life like a muted ghost, as he attempts to reconfigure her programming.

To him, her operational systems are straightforward; a desire to control - born from the insecurity of a powerless childhood, followed by the sheer pain of a failed relationship, leaving her heartbroken and helpless. Slowly losing faith in her hearts organic process, her brain takes over every last element of survival instincts trust; the passive bliss of controlled peace, slaying the rampant exposition of organised chaos. Mister Nature is aware he must insidiously infiltrate her brain, in order to reach the heart, so after his initial arrival as the type of mysterious stranger her analytical mind loves to stoically deconstruct, he begins with planting minimal seeds of questioning his own role in society; aware how, in turn, it will cause her to question her own. He pushes her and pulls her in this manner, until the psychological confusion manifests into a mistaken form of emotional connection; the heart now slowly beginning to pump intermittent streams of blood into the soul, echoing memories of desire and feeling.

He teases her, compliments her, infuriates and ingratiates with regular aplomb. He watches on as she attempts every last trick of her minds rulebook to capitulate his intriguing essence, in order to control his mind. But Mister Nature carries no desire to win her heart – merely awaken it and afford her the ability to shed the cocoon of pragmatism, to mature into an empathetic butterfly. As each day passes, her shots rebound like internal arrows; each one after the other. Her power is stolen from the same attempts to attain it; her usual port of figuring out the riddle in her mind, only developing the labyrinth even further.

Eventually, the confusion in trying to understand the nature of Mister Nature causes meltdown of Miss Robot’s ever-present, trusted mainframe. Now she believes she is crazy, but she isn’t, not in the slightest – it is just the process of the awakening glow of her heart, overtaking her computerized, cold mind. Mister Nature steps away, for his task is now complete. Slowly, Miss Robot regains her rationale composure. She learns how the mind cannot control everything and everyone, and neither can she – and a life without the risk of taking a chance on a path designed by Mister Nature, is an exercise in futile, immature gratification; a form of mental imprisonment, disguised as freedom.

The next period, in which the same seeds are firmly planted inside her soul, they may well shoot straight to the heart – and remind her that while life can be lived in the mind, it is not a source of feeling. And without feeling, we are not really alive at all. Miss Robot was capable of everything, but the capacity to allow the love of life into her heart; making her incapable of anything. Mister Nature moves on. Mister Nature’s work is never ending. Mister Nature is, just like Miss Robot, alive in anyone and everyone...


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