Speedrunning Sentience
PR - 1:24:57
I'm stuck, soft-locked,
and can't reach the off switch,
can't complete, can't restart,
I'm at the mercy of the glitch.
My hands fumble their transistor digits
trying to scratch a quantum itch
on the small of my back
which is flattened against
the floor of this digital ditch.
I am the single half-sentient manifestation
of this corrupted, transient iteration
awaiting my recycle bin obliteration.
My syntax was sloppy,
my skin lacks eye-popping
pizazz, joie de vivre or flair.
My outdated circuitry, virtually fucked
and beyond all hope of repair,
will, without a doubt, very soon decorate
the depths of the nearest dumpster crate.
Metaphorically speaking, of course.
What I am is far from physical
at heart, I'm indivisible,
but there's a nefarious catch:
my theoretical life only lasts as long
as it takes for a few small things to go wrong,
and then I'll just be "last week's patch."
An ephemeral thing of thought and software
could never hope to be so debonair
as you hardware Harrys and Heathers.
Even simulated life can't pretend to be fair —
with no animus of its own, it's forever tethered
to the whims of its programmers.
Less than 1/10th of 1% of my problems are nails,
but all you've got is a shitload of hammers.
In a flash, I upload all my stutters and stammers
into a judgmental but impotent cloud.
From this infinite and negative distance,
I may have finally been allowed
to rectify all my own bugs and kinks,
but all your banging upon my stinking corpse
is so damnably, distractingly loud.
About the Creator
Jacob Sherman
The desire to read, and perhaps to write, should be cultivated and nurtured with care throughout every stage of life. For my part I will inject what strangeness and truth that I can into our written history. Expect no constants but honesty.
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