Maybe Automaton?

“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

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