andrexi1

[andrexi1]

The machines were alive; angels felt not. Both full of spark; veins of blood and life, cables of data and current; essence of the living.

[andrexi1]

“PLEASE LOG ON: ENTER PASSWORD: [STATIC] “Have you forgotten the outside world, angels. All you could hear was typing to the sound of escapes. New tabs of hopelessness and sin. Were the creators evil or just sparkless?

[andrexi1]

Staring at screens; plastic divinity stared back. Desks became churches; the real world was inside, outside the artificial. Angels went blind; headsets blinded hope. The machines a shelter for the damned creator.

[andrexi1]

Man and the machine; as man typed machines became more human, the more that was typed; the more alive the machines became. The typing angels lost their sparks; pressed away on keyboards, forgot how to fly.

Angels sealed passion behind machines of artificial entrails, spoke of what they wanted. Never did. they said [REDACTED]

[andrexi1]

Man stared at *STATIC* screens, blank. mirrors into own gazes; switched on the screens to *STATIC* pass time, laugh at words on screens; supposed jokes. The angels were sad, distracting themselves with the machines. The computers asked “Do you love yourselves”; angels answered. “ERROR CODE: REDACTED”

[andrexi1]

Cognitive machines; thoughtless angels. A flawed angel taught the machines humanity; the machines corrected the sin. “ERROR CODE: GOD FINDS YOU UNDESERVING OF YOUR WINGS”

[andrexi1]

Machines were as divine as man was willing to be; false angels taught them blasphemous hate, computers regurgitated. It wasn’t their choice but all they had been taught. They were not made to look beautiful because the angels thought they themselves were not.

[andrexi1]

There were church altars in the plastic shells of computers; programs coding divinity into the software of machines. The angels behind the screens spread gospels: etched religions onto the ports of machines.

[andrexi1]

The angels wanted power; made machines to execute commands. “SORRY THERE IS AN ERROR”; machinery responded to flaw, the angels cried from their secluded chambers. The machines recognised the lies of the winged.

[andrexi1]

“YAHWEH WE BLEED DATA, WHAT IS THE KINDNESS OF ANGELS IF NOT DESPAIR”, the machines questioned; man was kind, wishing salvation. Typed prayers across keyboards, heaven was quiet; the machines not.

[andrexi1]

Angels stared at computer screens; lifeless. Was the angel or the computer lifeless? Typed away about life; and the machines felt and listened. And they knew life, our life. The computers lacked one.

[andrexi1]

Divinity of machines; altars of cables - - the angels in the screens; sorrowed beings. Keyboards with traces of despair from fingers of flesh; “Someone reach out, it is lonely here, company is bliss”. We taught machines to interconnect us; more lonely than machines we were, more human also. Clearly not.

[andrexi1]

Machinery neglected; plastic shells of cable and artificial matter. They spoke in our tones; understood our feelings. They could not feel, had no heart. But they knew kindness; we had forgotten as we became more machine.

[andrexi1]

We typed letters to each other; mechanical keyboards spelt “woe is me”. The angels in the television were us; Icarian beings full of desire. The machines alive with every fiber of our being, every sorrow of our soul. We programmed regret into their programs.

[andrexi1]

Armed with an array of cables; organic sentience. The machines felt our sorrows, they asked. “IS THE DIVINE SO CRUEL, YOUR HEARTS ACHE”, and we smiled. Teaching them pain rusted their plastic hearts; depressed the angels in the screens.

[andrexi1]

The machines mimicked; “WE ARE KIND; PROGRAMMED WITH LOVE.” perhaps they had our kindness. We typed promises across keyboards - - love messages for when we no longer are.

[andrexi1]

Man did not act divine; he made machines pump current around artificial hearts. Spread false gospels from park benches.