The Machine
He met his new partner
In the inner-city trenches
Wrapped in neck tattoos
Reflected off the graffiti
Of the perspiring walls
Out of the corner of his eye
He saw the calculations
Triggered by sensory input
Enabling targeted algorithms
Which exceeded intuition
Without moving a joint
His weapon emerged
From the alley of his sleeve
His assailant captured
Before the city lost a pulse
He was back on the beat
While the sound of accolades
Were still mixed in the air
Syncopated to each stride
By his singular dance
By his singular dance
By his singular dance
By his singular dance
He was back on the beat
His weapon emerged
Triggered by sensory input
From the perspiring walls
His partner met his stare
In the inner-circuit trenches
Wrapped in nano-tattoos
Reflected onto the walls
Of his cranial unit
He heard the dreadful order
When his partner ignored his
As he wrestled with his duty
All three laws of robotics
And the Law they upheld
His blood pumped adrenaline
Neurons fired off the decision
As he fired a single shot –
His partner out of service
As he blindly obeyed his …
And then, with realization apparent
It is he; it is he who is the machine!