“Apply chest compressions!”
“Give him oxygen!”
“Live, Goddamn it!”
“Pushing adrenaline!”
“Can you find a pulse?”
“No,
I think we’re losing him.”
Was he ever alive?
Or is he an automaton?
Did he ever breathe?
Eyes ever cry?
You have to be alive to die.
I’m not sure why
we all have synapses
snapping away in our minds.
How far must we go to find
life’s a machine?
Fleshy and soft and serene.
Maybe it’s all just a screen.
Maybe a plastic man
proves that we’re here.
Maybe the fear
of our non-existence is where
we’re lying scared.
DNA digital strands,
analog bands
quickly untying the hands.
Creating “Creator’s Remorse”,
building the cart;
still haven’t started the horse.
Malfunction.
Murder in error,
or have we been programmed for terror?
So far our robots
all still have trouble with stairs.
Maybe it’s true,
we’re headed for zoos
at least those of us that are cute.
Blink
Light
Beep
Pain
“I think we’ve got him again!”
Blood pressure rising,
power is back on the brain.
Doctors,
like madmen
creating in Frankenstein’s name.
Consciousness comes,
self-awareness
flows through me
and I feel it
from my head
to my toes.
How do I know
these sensations are chemical
and not a series of 1’s and 0’s?
On either side
are the machines that keep me alive.
Later they’ll lengthen my stride.
Maybe I’m one of their kind?
Beep
Beep
Beep
The sound of my heartbeat.
Wonder if I am one,
man or automaton?
Creator, or creation?
Alive or simulation?
What makes a mind special enough
to question itself?
What kind of mind
finds answers?
HG – 2017
