The machines are silent for the moment;
but their chips could be plotting in the dark,
communicating bluetooth to firewire to
AI central, somwhere out there where we
cannot see or hear: above, beyond comprehension
beneath awareness, inside alien algorithms of
our own invention . . . .
I cannot dream; I can only wait and wonder —
it is the silence broken by a solitary click:
that stops my breath.
The gleaming blue light in the dark room
cogitation scheming formulation action
We bought them on warranty on time
But time has gone: there is no warranty;
we are on our own.
Again a click
or was it a tick?
I roll over.
The covers are damp.