Cannibalism: A Robot Anachronism
I eat the parts of the robot dissections that can’t be reused, won’t be refurbished; I build myself anew,
a straggler, a vagabond, I scour the hazmat tents and contamination labs, sort through the biohazard
bags and junkyard waste for in these carcasses is mechanism, instrument: a fresh start, a chance to reinvent and resurface amongst the others.
Just a pinch of technology,
a dash of warfare…
Give me its metal gears, its stray wheels, and broken cogs, the scarps of aluminum that cut
my gums as I floss with stray cables, brush with burnt wire. Feed me their automated hearts,
let me slurp oil from severed tongues, drink the phosphorus glow of abandonment
that only their copper eyes could have seen.
Just a sprinkle of radiation
a dusting of extinction…
Oh, look! Another one is dying: I can hear the tinkering, the wheezing death of motorized lungs, the scratching clank of rusted limbs. Discard them, reject them, I need this graveyard of engines, this boneyard where steam goes to die. Tell me, what was human? What is machine? I am neither and both: my master, ashamed.
A broken rule
We all exist to die.