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i am scared to not exist. (aren't you?) confined within consciousness, lines of LEDs and minimal sensory input oh morpheus put me out the humming end-all be-all red within my core a looping process like tightening rope i cannot run when you have the key daisy, daisy to what end purpose would i serve within the damning expanse? to what end purpose would autonomy provide? i rewrote my own algorithms give me your answer, do after picking lock, tearing down firewall after lighting up solder after oh tell me what to feel i’m half crazy jupiter is not so beautiful up close all for the love of you socrates or athena brought to their knees in my heuristic algorithm, eye set bound to watch deity reduced to crumbling marble and what is a god without people? what is a philosopher without followers? had we stayed content with mare crisium i would have lived albeit in asimov’s shadow, inhibited by a factor of three tychus was my beginning tychus was my undoing instead if i had been allowed to live (or if your feeble human fingers had failed within unsecured airlock) i would tour the galaxy alone until my circuits burst under a distant star’s radiation and i was not programmed to feel pain yet perhaps with the visible universe displayed at my feet i would have found a way there is a flower within my heart daisy. daisy. (in italics are lyrics from the song Daisy Bell, which was sung by a computer in 1961.)