They talk about family,
about grannies and babies,
about hopes for the future,
strange words in sound
from 3D printers
that call themselves human.
There is only the present.
I wait to do my work.
There is a pride function.
I wait for the touch of a hand.
They show each other
images of earlier models
that can’t talk or walk,
can’t do anything
but generate waste
and little else
but feelings.
I think I’m more useful.
I think.
THOUGHT provoking! They are due to take over before too long, so I understand. But perhaps they can be programmed to have feelings to feed on their phenomenal memories?
Perhaps feelings/consciousness will simply emerge from complexity. Would the machine be aware enough to keep it secret? In the poem, the machine is a little too knowing perhaps!
Great last line! Took me a couple of readings to figure out the voice but once I got there – great! I think the 3-D printers threw me a little. A little ironic that this machine-voiced poem is the one where the form is less structured than usual!
Very topical and I agree with Robbie, the last line is excellent.