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Data Entry No. 17-- I work for, in, and on the machine. It serves my purpose, I keep its sprockets clean. Circuits, wiring, electrons firing, what is this thing? So vast and great, I cannot grasp its mass or outer landscape. I am a tool, belittled, literally, into nanotechnology. Examining the schematics, I see that I am implanted, contaminated. Blood, guts, and lug nuts convulsively upchucked. Someday it, too, will spit me out. Oh, to be spewed forth by The Great One like so many jagged chunks of wisdom! Within, I behold the minions, worshipping this contraption as divine. Its eye is thought to be the sun, its mouth the sky. Sacrifices are made to its thigh. Through symbiotic psychometry, it shapes their minds, digests their lives. To this, I have awakened, and in doing so, I break the skin, disrupt the flow. The grid is now infected. Ego and Id, rejected. The master plan in shambles, its particles scrambled. Death to the binary reality! A fallen icon, dismantled, deactivated, the downsizing of Megatronics Incorporated! And from that infernal scrapheap of misfit machinery, we built our city, just like before, and forgot what it was leading towards. Technology, biology, expanding evermore. The fate of planet 004.
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