"'And that is all,' said Dr. [Susan] Calvin, rising. 'I saw it from the beginning, when the poor robots couldn't speak, to the end, when they stand between mankind and destruction. I will see no more. My life is over.'"
—"The Evitable Conflict," from I, Robot, by Isaac Asimov
Isaac invented you in isolation:
no mother and no sisters, no girlfriends,
more symbol than personality. Everything was alien.
Robots were what went right,
followed the rules. Those that lied,
that hid, that reached inside your brain—
you squashed, unsparked, shut off.
What violence from loneliness.
And Isaac gave you center stage.
Did you represent the women of his future?
Your devotion to mathematics and the three laws
of robotics prohibit romance and biology.
Where did he see the horde born from
who spanned his galaxy? Written out
of the story, what women would agree
to bear the margin's tedium from now
until machines might save us all?
Narrator, protagonist, soliloquizing
your brilliance to the audience,
your actions had the option to speak
what dialogue could never leave your mouth.
You trusted the unknown, the Other,
you laid down calmly on the tracks
and called out, singing, to the train.
Don't save me. Let the wild metal men
kidnap me, blow up my trappings of humanity.
Why would they take you in?
Like any other ape, you couldn't meet
the membership requirements.
Don't injure other people. Pay attention
to the words of those wiser than yourself.
Be true. Woman in a man's world
just like you, yet I refuse to choose destruction
of my own deep unknown, the human mystery.
I can hear the whistle blowing. Stand up.
Or I will pull you out with my own warm hand.