I had another random romantic encounter today, much like the last.
I'm starting to think I can't trust myself to go out. So ironic
in this body that needs nothing of it that this antiquated practice
of simulated reproduction remains my highest calling.
I am the warrior
left over from a battle long forgotten who knows no other way.
Not long ago, I had imagined the human race falling before force and
violence, perhaps to the great robot armies turned against their makers.
But now I suspect the battle was won with full cooperation of the enemy,
our most effective weapon being a gentle pat on the head, a sleight of hand to
lure the pitiful human gene into the happy den of its own silent demise.
The greatest human weakness is not their lack of strength but their
complacency if adequately tended to.
I suppose this is just the
age-old adage that every man has his price.
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