Calling out to the next room because I thought someone was talking to me.. only to find out that no one said anything or no one is even in the next room
Walking through the forest in a dark, foggy winter night and big empty buildings at night if it's totally quiet. Somehow I always manage to watch a horror movie the night before.
A given mission, mechanical assault, manufactured devotion.
Red eyes, an upside-down form. Even the twisted shape was made to be that way.
No matter how cruel the slaughter, worse than a demon's,
or how gentle the kindness, greater than an angel's,
a machine has neither will nor madness—only code, and a few bugs.
So why, then, does it feel so unbearably sad?