“I suddenly beheld the figure of a man, at some distance, advancing towards me with superhuman speed.” (Mary Shelley, Frankenstein)
A speculative monster which feeds off itself, uses algorithms to profit from other algorithms, to speculate on speculation, moving faster than anything human. Labour, twice alienated in the money-form, becomes thrice perverted in finance, many times more abstracted in the form of money-figures become algorithms upon algorithms executed by machines that function faster than can be followed until – alienation triumphant – the lives of those who created this system, and millions if not billions more – a country’s economy destroyed, a family’s livelihood ruined on an algorithmic whim – are determined for them.
A Frankenstein work: the free creation of something free, which becomes a nightmare one cannot be free of.
If you’re not horrified by this, you haven’t been reading properly.