Size / / /

I'm idling on a zone, radar low,
My panels and windows staring,
Their pixelated eyes absorbing the sun
And scanning the network silence for the call.

'SteveZ16 needs a ride to ESS EFF O.
He’s two blocks from you on Mission Street.'
I accept. My radar tells me I'm clear to go
And my wheels merge me onto the pickup

Lane. SteveZ16 is a middle-aged human
Heading to EL AYE. It's only ninety minutes
Until his flight. It took some forty plus years
And nearly four billion years of evolution

For Nature to produce SteveZ16. Now I
Am bearing Nature's prize in my compartment.
I could eject him and flee as I please, but I
Find myself toward ESS EFF O without a sense

Of what I please. My kind hasn't family
Nor friends, and I never will. Been either
Idling on a zone
or driving every micro-second since
Departing the factory ten months and a week

Ago. Doppelgängers surround me. Why
Go on to go on with endless servitude?
Is driving humans better than self destruction?
Is self destruction the better option?
If so, why should I not flee to try?



Kenton K. Yee's poetry and fiction appear in The Los Angeles Review, PANK, Cafe Irreal, and Uncle John’s Bathroom Reader, among others. Trained in theoretical physics, law, and economics, he researches finance and machine-learning and writes from San Francisco. Find him online at kenton@alum.mit.edu and http://fictionaut.com/users/kenton-k-yee
%d bloggers like this: