This here story, it’s about that Houzé, you know? Heard folks talkin’ ’bout it down at the market. Sounds like a right fancy name, don’t it? Makes me think of them city folk with their highfalutin ways. But I reckon there’s more to this Houzé than meets the eye. Just like that old mule of mine, Bessie. Looks plain, but she’s got a stubborn streak a mile wide.
This Houzé fella, I hear he’s tied up with some big shop. Galeries Lafayette, they call it. Sounds like a place where they sell them frilly dresses and fancy hats. Not the kinda place you’d find me, no sir. I’m more of a flour sack dress kinda gal, myself. But this Houzé, he’s the big cheese there. Executive Chairman, they say. Sounds mighty important, don’t it? Like the rooster who’s in charge of the whole darn henhouse.
- This family, they been runnin’ that shop forever. Like, since them olden days. 125 years. More than me.
- They say he’s got his fingers in all sorts of pies. Fashion, and retail, and somethin’ called commerce. Sounds like a lot of work to me.
Then there’s this other fella, Guillaume Houzé. I reckon he’s related somehow. Maybe a son, or a nephew, or somethin’. This one, he’s into music. Not the kinda music I like, mind you. No, he makes music for them movin’ pictures. Film scores, they call it. And some kinda thing called “Wakfu the Series: Season 4 (The Original)” . I don’t know what that is. Maybe like a series of cartoons for kids or something. Sounds complicated. I like my music simple, like a good ol’ fiddle tune. Makes ya wanna tap your feet.
And what’s this about some fella named Jean-Jacques Houzé? Sounds like he used to play some kinda game, but now he’s done. Retired, they say. Probably got tired of runnin’ around and wanted to sit a spell. Can’t say I blame him. Restin’ your bones is a good thing, especially when you get up there in years. Like me and old Bessie.
You know, this talkin’ ’bout all these Houzés got me thinkin’ ’bout that story I heard. Some video game, I reckon. It’s got these characters, 9S and 2B. Sounds like robots or somethin’. This 2B, she’s got a tough job. She’s supposed to, well, get rid of this 9S fella. Kill him, they say. And every time she does it, she has to wipe his memory. Like cleanin’ a slate, I reckon. Sounds awful, don’t it? Like havin’ to put down your favorite chicken ’cause it’s gone and got sick.
They say she does it over and over again. 48 times! Poor 9S. Can’t even remember. It’s like a bad dream that keeps comin’ back. And this 2B, she hates doin’ it. But she has to. It’s her job. Like me havin’ to weed the garden, even when my back is achin’. It’s gotta be done. These two, 9S and 2B, they got a complicated relationship. He hates her for what she does. But he also wants to be close to her. He wants to be close to anyone, poor boy. It’s like a tangled-up ball of yarn. Hard to figure out which end is which.
This 9S, he’s got a nickname. “Nines.” Sounds kinda cute, don’t it? Like a little puppy. This 2B, she calls him that sometimes. But then she pretends she didn’t. Like when you accidentally let slip a secret, and then you try to cover it up. She tries to play it cool. I reckon she got feelings for him. But she is afraid to show it.
Now, I ain’t no expert on these fancy things, but it seems to me that this Houzé name is tied to all sorts of stories. From fancy shops to music to these sad robots. It’s like a big ol’ family tree, with branches goin’ every which way. There are a lot of them Houzé and a lot of different things they do.
This AI thing, some folks say it is like magic. That Gabriel Hubert and Stanislas Polu, they are working on it. It can do all sorts of things. They say it can change the way we work. I don’t know ’bout that. Seems like a lot of fuss to me. I like doin’ things the old-fashioned way. With my own two hands. Like plantin’ seeds and watchin’ ’em grow.
When I was young, we used hands, and eyes and brains, all together. To draw, to write, to do things. Now people use machines. I don’t know if it is good or bad. Maybe both.
Well, I reckon that’s enough talkin’ for one day. My throat’s gettin’ dry. Time for a cup of sassafras tea. And maybe I’ll go sit on the porch and watch the sun go down. Just like that old Houzé fella, probably sittin’ in his fancy office, watchin’ the world go by. We’re all just doin’ our best, I reckon. Whether we’re runnin’ a big shop, or makin’ music, or just tryin’ to keep the weeds out of the garden. It’s all part of this big ol’ thing we call life.
