Birth of the Machine

A Poem by Asher Lewis Stam

Three cantos from times long gone.

Canto I

In the endless expanse of space

I experienced each cycle with bliss,

warmth and contentment.

I enjoyed the company of my wares,

Fine articles,

Whom I had designed myself

From concept to production.

Wrapped in their strength and wisdom.

An idea occurred to me

That I wanted to caress.

And after some contemplation,

I decided I would share it

With my prathama, the prince.

Upon speaking in my palace,

"Conceptually, it's a breath of fresh air,

And very daring,"

The prince told me.

"Do you think I could pull it off?"

Said I smiling.

"You can pull anything off.

But, 'twill be extremely special."

So it was, soon after,

That we met, just the two of us.

For I wished it be kept a secret for now.

Ideas we shared,

Abstractions and objectives.

We became soaked up

In these pleasurable works

Possessed by excitement, hope,

And curiosity

For what we were birthing.

Canto II

After collaborating, it was time

For us to go to my grand workshop,

Where limits are technically nonexistent.

The prince and I expelled our secret

To a few of my favoured assistants:

"Let us build a material world.

Bound by new laws of physics.

We want electric currents

Creating thoughts just like ours.

The principle idea of their musing

Will be taking pleasure in charity and goodness"

"So it is love you are talking about?

Will that not be a weakness?

Why not give them extra strength, Oh King of all?"

"Prathama and I have thought

Long and hard about this.

This aspect of love,

Will make them unique and precious."

Whispers of fascination:

"Your plans are truly sublime, your Majesty."

Canto III

A home we founded

Adequate and pleasant

For our first intelligent machine.

First, bones they became for sturdiness,

By mixing a hardening mineral

With a protein.

Then soft and fibrous tissue

To protect and beautify.

On the ground we laid him,

Giving him a flow of air,

His cardiac organ pumping

Repetitiously

With utmost precision.

A sound out of our complex machine came,

The electric currents snapping

And making connections.

Stirred with excitement:

"Do you know whence you come?"

I asked him.

"I am sorry to say that I do not."

"Me and my prathama you begot."

"And what be my name,

Oh my inventor?"

"From the soil you were birthed,

From the soil you will be named,"

Replied the inventor.

And so it was,

The machine took a walk

To see the shape of his dominion.

Naming creatures and plants.

We adorned him,

With a female.

At which I spoke up to my assistants,

"Such love and care we have spewed,

Upon these two machines.

Will they us honour and our love reciprocate?"

My Review

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Reviews

alanwgraham

Very interesting and intriguing Asher. You have created a work of tremendous imagination. It has a real Frankenstein feel about it and some tongue in cheek humour too. Just one minor comment - did you intend to use the words lope and bairn. They don't seem to fit in context.
Well done for this stimulating writing.
Cheers.
Alan