Monday, June 11, 2012

Biobot Vision

Biobot Goggle

Biobot on the Watch

She takes a reading in theJungle, measuring gravity as [restless entity frustration on recursive motifs="reform"]. It's theJungle that will have had its iron sludge, its peppering of natural artifacts from the early 21stCentury.

Or a conglomerate, more likely. 

Yes. Global mines coerced through shaming with references to national honor (made even more oblique by outrageous behavior in nations of the East, celebrities of the West, seemingly, to appease hungry gods). 

One of those elements of behavior will go down its own snarling road in due time, a time when all are unable to incorporate aspects of self psychologically--when a thoughts-of-the-hidden elbows itself deeper to go its own way.

Nothing is ever quite agreed upon as a family construct, right?

It is the singular widow of time, the entity given free rein to decide a mission called home. It's one that takes on a new load (forget the ones at hand), one that allows private entry to the trapped cold air of winter that's been so kind and promising. 

It will require a different graves-without-tombstones kind of social engagement, a road designed personally to be held closer to one's own swamp. (so, now it's left to the theHumans to wonder about such things as cannibalism, links to biobots in theJungle, orientation to the world) 

She takes another reading. 

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