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.
You think God has left you, that perhaps
you’ve outgrown Him –
we all want to be gods now, in control of the things
that spin around us.
The screens go blank:
Androids dream of electric sleep,
and we’re lost in the forest,
unable to navigate.
I didn’t realize how I much appreciated silence until my late twenties, after another mental health breakdown. A bad breakup had sent me running to another self-help group and, unknowingly, into a deeper search for God.