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Hello, Mr. Machine.
Let me present you with something
That will fry your circuits.
You wake early every morning
To the sonorous songs of birds
Saying hello with their tweets and chirps.
After washing some breakfast down your throat
With a mug of Folgers,
You kiss Mrs. Machine goodbye, and are off to work,
Driving the same route you did the day before.
As you pull into the same spot you park in every day,
A familiar, metallic face meets yours.
It’s your lifelong friend, Mr. Robot,
Who greets you with a synthetic smile
And a hollow “Hello”.
You and he walk in perfect unison to your whitewashed cubicles,
Parting so that you can begin another day of the grind.
As you gaze around, you notice
That everyone’s dressed the same as you,
And their cubicles are the same acidic white as yours.
You pay no mind to it, though,
And join in the symphony of clicking keyboards.
As the day winds down, you finish the last of your duties,
And return to your car at 5:30.
The same time as yesterday.
When you pull into the parking lot of your suburban home,
Mrs. Machine is already there, waiting with a computerized smile.
After an embrace and a few whispers of sweet nothings,
You proceed to the dinner table,
Having idle conversation with your son, Machine Jr.
After the meal is finished,
You return to your upstairs abode,
And plop onto the silken sheets of your bed.
It’s almost 8:00 now, about the same time you usually sleep.
And with that, Mrs. Machine kisses your cheek,
And you drift off, so that you can begin a new day tomorrow.
Except it won’t be new.
It will be the same as today,
And the day before that.
There will be no missteps in the order.
Your programming won’t allow you to break the sacred routine.
You’ve been wired too good to do something so drastic.
Do you believe in free will, Mr. Machine?
Can you even comprehend its concept?
Or, when you were conformed, did they erase
All freedom within you?
Let me ask you a question.
Do you think you are free?