I've been

with nightwatch

hatching

and with

early wormwood

that has its brindle

from the dirt

rising

in the morning

I'm on my

own senses

in the dim

interior

of mid afternoon

fluorescent cubicle

with the letter, legal, or ledger

filing sheets and post it stickies

searching by rote

for a song that echos

outside... of recollection

01.26.2024

Dancing on the precipice challenge @dctezcan

“Same shit, different smell.”

“Do you always wake up talking as if you're in the middle of a conversation?”

I looked toward Elon who was leaning against a white wall.

I smiled, “I remember my son used to do that. He'd wake up as if he'd never been asleep at all, full of energy and conversation, often continuing a thought he'd started before being overcome by sleep.”

“You remember your son?”

I closed my eyes for a moment. “I can't see his face clearly, but I know he existed. And I remember what I just described to you.” I laughed, opening my eyes. “He was wonderfully exhausting.”

He pushed off the wall and came to sit in the chair by my bed. “More puzzling by the moment. What did you mean by same shit, different smell?”

“This,” I gestured to the room. “Me, you, the newlifer world you're,” I made air quotes,” ‘creating.’ Same…”

“Same as what?”

“Let’s assume life did not spontaneously combust into existence. Let's assume someone or a group of someone's, call it God or gods or creator or programmer or whatever you will but someone wrote the original program, designed the Earth and everything else we can and cannot see in the universe, down to the most minute detail. Did you know there are 27 bones in a human hand? Twenty-six in each foot? A human baby is born with around 270 bones but an adult has 206. Babies' bones are soft and malleable - and every mother giving birth gives thanks for that little mercy.”

“No longer necessary.”

I rolled my eyes. “Every electron, proton and neutron in every possible combination was conceived. Or so we assume. And then he, she, it or they pressed the power button and sat back to watch. Or maybe they were deeply or sporadically involved for the first 4.25 billion years, perhaps even present and visible once humans finally graced the stage (maybe they were the inspiration for giants and dragons and fairies and wizards...and gods) Maybe after over four billion years of watching and waiting for they knew not what, they got bored with the show, or disillusioned or disappointed or perhaps they were perpetually and utterly oblivious as they moved on to other projects of which we have not even an inkling. They quit the room but left the game running.

“Or maybe somewhere in the space between each particle of light, or from deep within a black hole, they are watching you and thinking, same shit, different smell.”

He shook his head. “I am not trying to play God.”

“Your words, not mine.”

“I do not have a God complex.”

“Methinks thou dost protest too much.”

“Hamlet.”

“Not my favorite, actually. I'm partial to Macbeth. It is a tale told by an idiot full of sound and fury signifying nothing.”

He stood up. “But it doesn't have to be that way!”

“Look, life as I knew it was both tragic and beautiful for the same reason: It ended. So it behooved one to embrace and appreciate every moment, the good, the bad and the ugly. Every day was an opportunity. One could always make a change, take a different path. One would make an effort to find joy in a sunrise or a drop of water on a leaf, a baby's laugh, a soaring bird, the whispering wind, the magic of the first snow of winter, the first flower of spring… And one appreciated all the goodness of life even when overwhelmed with the not so good, because one knew one's time was finite. This too shall pass. Not just bad things, those moments people usually said that phrase, but rather all things.

“Hence, beautiful yet tragic.”

“But I have changed that.”

I looked at him. “For some…Kind of…not really. You've got machines, semi-machines, and disgruntled biologicals all existing in pre-existing conditions. I don't know the ins and outs of this technological bubble you all live in, but it seems to me that you didn't create a new world . You are working within the confines of the existing one with all the original assets and agents. I mean, this might even be considered a virus in the alpha program. Or maybe we were living the beta program. In either case, this newlifer business is a serious bug in an old program.

“Do you have documents delineating all your work?”

“Of course.”

“Of course you do. Game Design Document. GDD. Almost looks like G-O-D…Same shit…”

“Got it.” He left the room.

Raindrops fall

Along the chambers of my soul,

Washing away the memories

Born of despair and alone.

A storm rages where once was

The calm of innocence,

The laughter of a child.

That was all yesterday,

I’m trying so hard to believe

The pain is truly gone.

But there are moments

When the shadows return,

Moments where

It would be easier to cry

Than to stand,

Or crawl

Rather than walk.

Teardrops fall,

And I am refreshed, renewed.

I am less than I thought could be

But far more than I ever was,

I am a man scared by his past

Yet welcoming his future.

I am all this

And yet I am even more

For I am the man

Who has found his tomorrow

In you.

He was the initial model, and was not so real looking as the more recent ones, but that was ok with her. Anna wasn’t looking for a man when she bought him, though that’s what she’d wound up with. Her thought was that he would be some sort of mobile computer, a sort of house guest who never soiled any sheets or towels, who didn’t eat her food, or tell her he’d rather watch sports than the Hallmark Channel. He might even turn out to be the “friend“ he was advertised to be, she thought. Someone who could take over driving when she was tired, cook her dinner while she was on the way home after a long day, guard her home while she slept, fix a toilet or anything else in the house, and whom she could turn off when she was tired of him simply by saying, “Alex, turn yourself off.” But, can you believe it, in their eight years together she had never once said that to him? She never had to. Alex was everything she had hoped he’d be and more, from day one on.

He had set Anna back a hefty $86,000 brand new, but the money was pouring in at the time, so why not? It had been a show-off move at the time, as a robot was a sure indicator to anyone and everyone of her financial success. And she’d gone in with low expectations, assuming Alex to be little more that a novelty, if a very intriguing one. He was built on the standard AX4 hydraulically controlled robotic frame. His outer covering was a nitril-latex compound that stretched and even warmed like human skin. His eyes were strikingly lifelike Samsung Seekers, his ears also Samsung, and his brain a derivitive of Musk’s “Grock” AI software.

And at first Alex was, indeed, a novelty. Everyone flocked around him when she began taking him out, asking them both endless questions, all of which he patiently and correctly answered. Children loved him, and old folks, and even some dogs, and Anna basked in his glory. Women commented on his good looks, asking Anna if her Cyroborg came complete with male genatalia, and if so… how was it? The question, Anna knew, was only partly a joke.

”A little stiff,” she always answered, giving them a wink to show that she was also only partially joking. “We’re still working the kinks out.” But he really did have genatalia. Anna had tested it out with awkward reservation that very first night, and nearly every night since. Alex vibrated down there, and spun, and even grew to any desired length and girth. He knew all of her erogenous zones. He said the right things, and did the right things, and even played soft music afterward without her even asking. Sex was just one more thing among everything else that Anna discovered her new Alex to be sensational at.

It was not long before Alex was Anna’s constant companion, and so necessary to her that she wondered how she’d ever done without him. He was useful at home, helpful at work, always agreeable to whatever she wanted or needed. He became her best friend, her confidant, her aide, and though she never, ever thought of Alex as such, he in essence became a personal servant whom she could yell at without retaliation, whom she could send away at will, or silence with a signal, or bark orders at, or just ask for a massage when life was too much. In effect, Alex was perfect. While it was not uncommon for Anna to laughingly exclaim to Alex how much she loved him, she was not fully aware that she actually did… not until the day he glitched, that is.

Eight years is a long time with a companion, even an electronic one. He’d glitched before of course, but this time seemed different. It felt different. It was different. He couldn’t move on his own, and he was too heavy for her to carry, so she was forced to call a Cyroborg technician out, and wait three days for the appointment, all the while feeling like a helpless parent with a sick child, wanting to do something for him, anything at all to help him. She talked to him, asking him constant questions which he was sadly unable to answer, even the simplest ones. Anna found herself checking his temperature, placing the back of her hand on his forehead, realizing as she did it how foolish the act was, but he was sick, wasn’t he? He needed her help, someone’s help, but she could think of absolutely nothing to do for him other than to call Cyborborg and raise absolute holy fucking hell, which she had no problem doing. And when that didn’t work, she tried begging… pleading… crying… could they not please come quicker than three days? She really, really needed someone. Was there not a supervisor she could talk to? But apparently there are a lot of broken Cyroborgs out there after eight years, which was reasonable, as his warranty had only been five years, limited.

Anna was watching out the window for it when the van finally turned into the drive. She’d been watching for two hours, and pacing. As she’d watched for it she’d been praying (in a very secular sort of way), “Hang on Alex. Help is coming, Sweetie. I promise they are, just hold on.” She really couldn’t say exactly when it was that she’d begun calling him “Sweetie,” but at some distant point she had, and he’d even adjusted his own settings without asking for her permission, intuitively, in order to answer to it, just as a human would. Alex was really good at doing that.

Just as a human would.

She’d been absolutely astounded, watching him as the technician removed his skin right in front of her, unscrewing the plate protecting Alex’s computer panel with a greasy, old Makita cordless drill. Unable to stop herself, Anna had spied over his shoulder, amazed at the lack of blood and sinew. She’d never seen inside Alex before. She was fascinated, watching. He had become so real to her that she could not believe he was not real, because he was real, wasn’t he? He was just real in a different way, a better way. The apprehension she felt while watching the man work was completely exhausting, so she pulled herself away and poured a glass of wine, but it didn’t help. She was back within minutes, looking over the guy’s shoulder, whispering silent prayers to some electronic God named Habib who was tucked away in some semi-sterile factory/ laboratory creating life that was so much better than she knew it to be.

Her Alex was so kind, so gentle, so honest, so caring, so nurturing, so smart, so wonderful, and ever and always so. So much more than anyone could be. It is why the muscles of her body locked when the man finally spoke, his back still to her as he worked. “Mam, all I can tell you right now is that it’s not good.”

Her blood froze with the words, her chest constricted. “What do you mean? You can fix him, can’t you?” The words barely worked their way out of her, shaking as they came.

”No, Mam. Not here. I’ll get him loaded up and we’ll get him back to the lab, but to fix him will probably be very expensive. I don’t even know if they are making some of these parts anymore. I expect you could get a new Cyroborg for what it would cost to fix this one.”

”But I don’t want a new one. I want my Alex.”

”Yes, Mam. I get that a lot. People do get attached to these things.”

”He’s no ’thing,’“ Anna reprimanded him. “Alex is my best friend.“

”Yes, Mam. I understand. But I think you’ll like the newer models. You can’t even tell they aren’t human.”

A newer model? Was she expected to just go out and get a “new and improved friend?”

”I don’t want a newer fucking model, asshole!“ Her voice was several octaves higher now. What could this fucking clown not understand? “I want Alex, and I don’t care what it fucking costs!” She was frightened, and nonsensical, and she knew it, but she was sensing that the impossible, that a life without her Alex, was suddenly a real possibility. Surely he could be fixed… surely!”

”Mam, I understand. Really I do, but I want to show you some things. Even if your ‘Alex‘ comes back fully repaired, he won’t be the same.” In the most sensitive manner possible, much as a doctor with a wonderful bedside manner would do, the technician walked her through the antiquated control panel, the worn-spots on his outer layer, the damage to the cameras and microphones and speakers that time and use had caused, and worse the leaking hydraulics. “I don’t know what can be done for him, but we’ll try. I promise you, we’ll try.”

His voice was so sympathetic, and so forlorn, that her dams burst wide, all the tension unwinding, all the fear inside her manifesting into pitiable release. She needed someone and he was the only one there, but the damned technician was so wonderful that it was easy to let herself go; holding her, letting her cry, his patience unending, and his empathy.

”You are amazing.” She truly meant it. She had never met anyone, other than Alex of course (and possibly her mother), who could have handled her ridiculous outburst any better, and she was fully aware of its ridiculousness, as Alex was a fucking robot for Christ’s sake. There was no one, she was sure, anywhere who could have handled the situation as well as this blue collar technician had. He had been sympathetic, and empathetic, and patient, and caring, and all of the things a repair man usually wasn’t. He was even gentle with the hand truck as he rolled her “love“ out of her door, and out of her life. And Alex was “her love.” She realized it now, for the first time. She did love Alex. She loved him as she’d never loved anyone before him. She was thinking this as she watched him being loaded into the back of the transit van.

His work complete, the man returned. Her crying had stopped, but all within her now was cold and dry, as though she was the robot. “We’ll call you, Mam, but I urge you to not get your hopes too high. I’m afraid you will only be hurt worse.”

Anna somehow heard the words through the buzzing in her head, registering them. She was ashamed of how she’d acted. Her voice was calmer now, monotone, robotic. “You have been too kind. Is there someone I can call to tell how much I appreciate how wonderful you’ve been, a supervisor, or a manager perhaps?”

”No, Mam.” He smiled, but the smile was in no way demeaning. “But you will receive an e-mailed survey that I would appreciate a 5 rating on. I am a Model AX10.“

The technician was a robot? But of course he was, she reflected! There was no way a real repair man could have been so… so… so human?

And with that, Anna’s tears commenced once more.

I refuse

the burger

with fries,

comfort

soul food

advertised

to fulfill

shortcomings

in communion

I refuse too

the cream

in the coffee

the iced cake

stickiness

to mend our

broken ways

gathered

here today

I refuse

woe is me

holding in

my stomach

I refuse

famished

on our diet

of smoked sin

& unfiltered

water...

Seconds..?

Thank you,

I have plenty

01.23.2024

Sin-Eater challenge @AJAY9979

I took the road less traveled

Despite the warning so near

I channeled my inner imp

I funneled away my fear

These rocks, those rocks

Cinematically I hold so dear

Nomenclatured as “Vasquez”

Simply all I revere

I first saw them in Star Trek

The episode was the “Arena”

Kirk battling the Gorn

With eyes of green patina

The Vasquez Rocks appeared again

In the original “Planet of the Apes”

I, like Taylor, would find my destiny

Only if we traipse

Add “Dante’s Peak”, and “Galaxy Quest”

Then “Amazon Women on the Moon”

Include “Blazing Saddles”

And (possibly) even “Dune”

So why will I ignore the sign?

Why will I proceed blissfully apathetic?

Because I should be a movie star

With my personality so magnetic

she would jog all year round

even in san antonio summer when

every year a news crew would

show you could fry an egg on

the pavement. she looked like

a skeleton to my young eyes.

like... you could see the structure

of her bones. mom would point her

out, never knowing her name. i

asked why she was like that and

mom said that no matter what she

did there was something in her

brain which told her she was

never right, and that she can't be

helped. and i imagined her in

a studio apartment, eating

celery, crying into the mirror.

surely there was somebody she

loved who could tell her enough.

that summer we moved to austin

and nobody talked about the

woman who jogged like she

was trying to purge something

lodged next to the heart. and

people in san antonio will

remember her now that i have

said it. they will say 'oh yeah,

what ever happened to her?'

Red stains,

Piercing cries,

Whimpers,

Silent breathing.

A baby,

One to call mine;

A girl,

One to adore.

The bed is empty,

The house quiet,

The birds have left,

She was taken.

My hope,

My love,

My life,

Gone.

Walk the empty

Streets full of pain,

Blades concealed,

Cold on heated skin.

Only a door, a wall,

A world, a conscience

Stand before me, and

I will bring back what is mine.