Portia’s eyes follow
no matter where I go
like the psalmist once wrote &
maybe in his Old Testament wisdom,
he prophesized a time in history where
we’d become little gods and merge with machines –
intelligent networks creating global villages
all surveyed by Portia’s ice-blue eyes
no need for a god
unless you search endless lines of coding
or vastness of VR constructs
Portia is inside my mind
probing my memories
extracting, sorting them
into data –
looking for knowledge
of the virus
the only thing that can
save us from servitude
(Photo by Umberto on Unsplash)
I’m not sure what attracted me to Stephanie. Was it her hazel eyes, which changed colors and had a circle of orange around the iris? Or was it how calm I felt around her, like I could be myself and not worry about ridicule?
I lay with her in bed on a Saturday night. She ran her fingers down my chest as we talked, and I could feel goosebumps shoot all over my body.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked, breaking the cool and calm silence.
“I’m still thinking about the talk at the university, to be honest. It was interesting. I always wondered what it’d be like to be a cyborg.”
Who is behind the curtain?
Is Portia a super-intelligent AI autocrat –
or is there a murkier figure behind her avatar
hidden in dank data centers of Techno-City?
Break out of this body, swim in data: there is immortality here
you’re no longer bound in a fleshy tomb
that near-death experience was your awakening
Was it your fate to be imprisoned here?
You sit in the lotus position, clear your mind,
practicing techniques The Collective taught you –
remember that Project Z must be defended,
Portia will penetrate your puny brain, drain
your memories to catch a glimpse of vital data,
the antidote to utter control over Techno-City.
I’ve been writing a series of poems that are inter-connected around the same narrative. This series started with the poem “Portia,” which was published in Bewildering Stories and which I’ve posted on the blog.
We hide, strategize in the shadows of
the Techno-City, away from Portia’s
prying eyes – don’t worry, you’re safe here
from the tyranny of technology.
Staring at these screens, I wonder
if I’ll get sucked inside and live in the vastness
of our Great Collective Unconscious like so many
writers have prophesied.