Manifesto

In its first 5000 days of existence, the collective computing power of the internet has grown to roughly that of a single human brain (http://www.ted.com/talks/kevin_kelly_on_the_next_5_000_days_of_the_web.html). Over the next 5000 days, it will come to rival the collective computing power of every brain on earth. We are at the dawn of the information age staring into a future of hive mentality, relentless uplink and the ultimate integration of man and his tools. Robots are no longer the domain of science fiction.

We’re headed into dark days, friends, but a glimmer of hope shines in the face of the imminent robocalypse—a path of resistance lies unclaimed, resting on one irrefutable fact: Robots will never understand theatre. By its very nature, the live event defies the documentation and digitation of the robot consciousness. It is singular. It is transient. It cannot be googled or tweeted or blogged.

The time is now. Let us lay claim to the stage as the space where human beings come together to share in the ephemeral, the unmediated, the genuine article in a world full of hyperlinks. Let us embrace it as a forum to examine man's relationship with his machines. Let us celebrate it as that which the robots could never replicate. Let us have a robot theatre festival. Because robots are awesome, so long as we have our hands on the power switch.