Sure, computer-generated porn makes perfect sense. Even considering the advanced state of modern medical technology, there are still physical limits to the human body. Aren't there? Surely there must be a few left. Either way, there aren't any limitations to the virtual realities that computers can generate -- in three-dimensional high-res, with naturalistic shadows and lighting and photo-realistic textures bit-mapped onto every surface. Here breasts are bound by no physical limits of saline bags, here models need no quarter-inch of makeup, here photos require no retouching, here chainsaws are used as dildos and no one's the worse for wear, here every girl is fourteen and has eyes as big as saucers in fear and trembling anticipation, here every boy is not leather-faced and beer-bellied but handsome, young and cut, here children can be as young as you please and no one gets arrested, no one gets sued, no one needs anyone's permission or releases from models because there are no models and there is no anyone: there's nothing but 256 colors assigned to little squares arranged into a matrix, and behind that matrix the 1s and 0s that tell machines how to generate the matrix, and behind those 1s and 0s there's only more 1s and 0s, those of animation software packages and more machines, there is no human original, no aura, Walter Benjamin, no fragile bag of blood somewhere back there that could wash away the sins of mechanical mediation, no physical or legal limit -- no limit whatsoever save what the engineer can enable, what the designer can imagine and what the market will consume.
Excerpt from American Inferno, Circle 2: Lust. Work in progress.
