More feebly than before, the people move
Along a damaged grid -- one two, one two,
One... one? The bits collide; they can't remove
A null, or power cycle its askew
Connection to the main. They crash instead,
While all about, Metropolis inveighs
Against its failing heart. Its systems shed
Their excess modern men; its core surveys
The damaged grid; it finds the absent drone
And, finding it malfunctioning, aborts
Its processes. Inoperative, the prone
Machine, so briefly 'QED,' contorts
Into a cube. He's zero-shipped: compact
About him like a gel, the air is packed.
3 comments:
Incredibly interesting, aye too fascinating, this sci-fi discussion of far more than a simple little machine created for purchase at specified price, rather, it seems more a hard-hitting, probing examination of society and the mainstream gospel. A cold and eerie, haunting depiction of where mankind presently sits, so inhuman and blind.
Excellent imagery, beautifully drawing the reality of the human machine called society in mechanical/electronic terms.
I like this so very well, yet a tad intrigued, to say the least.
This is the dark center, the entry into the belly of the beast, in which Metropolis reveals himself and kills QED for the crime of deviating.
Oh my word! Yowser! Sick! La, that gave me the chills and I see it all now too clearly. Wowser!
Awesome.
...But who is "Metropolis"...Mephistopheles?
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