Android Sleep

Blip... 

Little pulses travel along a hidden wire, 

Blip...

Like nerves but less organic, like feelings but less chemical.

He's electrical.  And he's broken.

Another little blip on the screen. 

He's hooked up to the monitor right now and I watch the peaks -

The green on black of a line graph with no purpose.

The blip is gone before the human eye can register its importance.

Looks like he's dead or sleeping with his eyes open.

So much of him missing and yet he looks whole enough 

To take a breath at any moment

Or blink, or truly die,

But the schematics show no movement, no death.

And there was never life.

His synthetic body, his humanoid appearance is cracking and splintering

And there's oil, like blood, dripping and drying and staining and 

Making his metallic skull glisten under the snow static of off-line surveillance cameras.

Another blip. 

There's no movement, no processing, no computation, but something's happening.

It's not oil, is it?  That bit of liquid near his eye, that bit rolling down his cheek?

It wasn't there a moment ago.

Blip.  And then silence.  

Is he dreaming?

Amanda LaFantasie © September 2012