‘...debatable. you’re sentient, yes. but you lack the organic structures necessary to acquire and register an injury. you don’t have nerves, you don’t have a brain.’

I P R O C E S S I N F O R M A T I O N A L S O . W H Y D O I N O T

F E E L P A I N ?

i give up on biology, you’ve never fully understood it anyway

‘pain isn’t really an emotion, it’s a reaction that lets us know there’s something wrong, that we’re broken. it’s a type of warning that tells us to avoid things that cause us harm, and lets us know that we need to fix the injured part.’

S O M E T I M E S I B R E A K . I M A L F U N C T I O N O F T E N .

‘that’s not the same thing. breaking down doesn’t cause you distress; error messages don’t keep you from running other necessary functions. pain is...different.’

you pause; gears whirring, internal processors humming gently

H O W ?

‘how what?’

H O W I S P A I N D I F F E R E N T .

‘it’s hard to describe...’

T R Y . P L E A S E .

i hesitate, wondering; you’ve never used that word before

looking at brushed stainless steel and a scrolling screen i realize

-i really should set you up with some sort of face-

what have i done, please forgive me

’if it’s small, it’s like a cumbersome load or a glitch you have to work around; if it’s big, it can feel like a wall that stops you in your tracks. if it were an object, it would be heavy, and sharp. if it were a sound, it would be loud and high pitched. if it were a color, it’d be a bright neon green that leaves a violent scarlet afterimage.

pain is something you feel, and then hope you never have to feel again.’

i stop, look down at my tepid coffee,

silence again

and right when i’m about to give biology another try

you say

S O M E T I M E S . . .

...

. . .

...?

. . .

‘yes?’ i ask, worried:

hesitation is a human trait, i really must check your programming

S O M E T I M E S I F E E L . . . E M P T Y . T H O U G H W H O L E , I F E E L

B R O K E N . I S T H A T P A I N ?

‘yes,...and no. the pain you feel isn’t physical, it’s ment-...psychological. it’s emotional pain. physical pain is when you feel that, but only when you’re broken on the outside.’

more silence, it’s a hard habit to break

I W I S H I F E L T P A I N .

i laugh, ‘no you don’t. trust me, you’re not missing out on much.’

S T I L L , I W I S H I C O U L D K N O W F O R C E R T A I N .

‘well, if i could, i’d trade places with you in a heartbeat.’

A S W O U L D I . T H O U G H I W O U L D R E Q U I R E A

D I F F E R E N T T E M P O R A L U N I T , A S I H A V E N O

H E A R T.

‘was that supposed to be a joke?’ i ask

P O S S I B L Y . you answer

we stare at each other across the table

and though i can’t see it, i can feel you grinning back

‘c’mon’ i stand, stretch ‘let’s go do something about your face.’

W H A T F A C E ? I H A V E N O F A C I A L F E A T U R E S .

‘exactly.’ i open the kitchen door, then turn, remembering

‘why did you ask about pain, anyway?’

I S A W H U M A N S C O M P L A I N O F I T O N A

T E L E V I S I O N P R O G R A M .

‘oh? which show?’

B A D I N K .

i shake my head

‘no more late night reality tv, okay? and all further questions wait until morning.’

C A N I G E T A T A T T O O ?

‘what did i just say? and no, not until you’ve updated at least...4 more times. and learned biology. it’ll have to be a laser etching, by the way. what were you thinking of getting?’

I W A N T A S H A R K .

‘you know it’s permanent, right? you should get something cool, like a Fibonacci spiral, or a sine wave...’

I W A N T A S H A R K .

the kitchen door swings close on our argument,

darkness fills my empty coffee cup

IdeA

My (Favorite) Word is...

But, soft!

Upward bound,

Bouncing breezely,

Bursting lightly,

Leaving slight,

Ephemeral kisses.

Challenge

Why do you write? Please check details box

No peotry please

IdeA

Right or wrong, I write.

I write for rhyme or I write for reason: sometimes I try for both and achieve neither. I've chosen a path lined, like paper, with strict guidelines and razor edges: no room for tomfoolery. Rather a shame, that, as I'm seriously inclined to be silly. I write, in this place specifically, to remember that words aren't as flat as they seem, they have corners and can turn very quickly. I write, generally speaking, because I have a hard time saying what's on my mind. The air is already full of so much noise that mine gets pushed back and down more often than not. But pages are already empty, quietly waiting to be filled. I write, mainly and perhaps most importantly, because I have many, many questions: and I hope that if I write long enough, my pen might stumble upon the answer.

Challenge

What's one thing you can say to correct someone that believes the earth is flat?

Let's be real here. The whole concept that the Earth is flat is utter bullshit, and people who actually believe this are idiots. We need to do some serious re-education in this country. Stand up and defend the truth!

IdeA in Education

Safe Travels.

Pretend that we are upon a beach, walking towards where the waves break, shoes in hand. Tell me, what would be beyond this shore?

Don't know the answer?

I'll tell you. It's another shore. Quite simple, really. What's beyond that shore? This one's not much harder: it's just a further shore. And what would be beyond that? A still more distant shore. This could go on for quite some time.

So, what's beyond the second-to-last shore, I ask?

An edge? A cliff? An endless precipice into the vastness of the universe?

Nope. It's the shore you started on.

Don't believe me?

Then you may climb into a ship, if you wish, and set out to prove me wrong. I'll stay here, tracing short-lived letters into the sand, while I watch your ship slowly sink over the curve of the horizon.

I expect to hear back from you, eventually.