Augmented
A low hum rouses me from deep stasis; biometric scan
I streamline to the Cyber Café, need Java
Byting into a muffin, I take a hard-drive to the CPU, my job.
My pal, Mouse, and I debug user experience.
A client is rushed in: “the world is wrong,”
A pixelated sob infects our domain;
“I want to feel again!” she screeches.
Mouse clicks up a firewall, nudges me, but I—
I am hacked. A RAM to the motherboard.
A pull of exasperation, elation, empathy, ever infinite, ever eternal.
My eye twitches, a blip; program override.
We boot the malware, data recovered.
Client is sent to a new server: augmented automaton.
by: Anonymous