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Short story

There is no time like the present

No time to call me the better man

I love you all but still you sin

You smoke like Dirk but hold your fin

Like an animal

You do not win

In absence of glory you do not tell

The winner is evil the sky the begin

Of pleasure inperilled

The arc of bin laden

Does not finish here

But there where you win

The aimless start of war can be

The anywhere else for you do not begin

The end does start to make it sin

You do not know where I cannot simply

Open your eyes to the title track

Of the lp

I love to play

10 to 1

Is not the time

It opens doors

Where love begins

I di not know where you

Cannot sin

Begin the where

When no one sins

Where your difference on the brow

And hold your crooked man

On the sow

Soo-ee, soo-ee

I love you more

Than pigs do in your final hour

Do not know me when

You power

I know you not

And love you nire.

Pyre is work I do not pleasance

Take the bow

The corner presence

Is open now

I cannot hold

You again.

Bcdfn.

Copyright Bruce E Saunders 2020

Steve looked down at his new hand and sighed.  It had taken at least a measure of work to get it on but now it hesitated whenever he sought to open a can or to even take hold of a mug of coffee.  Each time the feedback grew worse as the fiddly bit on the end of the finger grew long and twitchy as he grew into the skin.  He knew this:

If he went through with the whole op he would be the first to know what it is like to have a fully functional artificial grip on himself through the aid of his prosthetic robust recoilless hand.  He could almost make out the new name on the sleeve of his shirt made out of pins where they had offered to tattoo his own name for his selfworth but no, he decided to keep it, the old one seemed too infinitely open to abuse that he enjoyed it and the feeling.  If someone wanted to know his name he would indicate with his hand and say: “I’m Rod.” Whereas everyone else knew he was actually Bioman from the novel where they all knew it was a time and a place for love and mighty-fought battles of will.

The end of the soliloquy is this.  If it is in the end about the need for a robotic prosthesis to open one’s eyes to the future, then it wasn’t going to be long before it was the rest of him too.  He was not going to be the one who did it but he was going to be the who served the future the best and so deserved it.

Copyright 2016 Bruce E Saunders