Waves of Absurdity

The spidergoat creeps along a silicon wall. The clean-room personnel are clad in paper armor and shielded theory. Corn-poly blends and strawberry apples, the world has evolved into absurdities for profit.

We can build a microscopic piston, and attach machines to gossamer nerves. We can map a tornado in numbers, and paint with light. We still die in frustration and limp protest against the failings of science. How many die with silent screams, empty railings towards God or evolution on their tongues?

Some say that there are too many people, and this justifies cruel indifference in us all. I say it is greed, and people scoff at this. "Greed won't ever change."

We can write in the language of the human computer. The mysteries of the helix have been solved and are now the realm of marketers and demand generators. How long till there is a petrie man and a vat grown woman? Little gods in our own right.

The spidergoat dies, but leaves behind children web weavers. No longer can they sustain themselves on mother's milk. The clean-room personnel abandon their paper armor, and shielded theory for newness. The world shifts on an axis yet unseen, and I will be waiting for the waves to break upon the consciousness, eyes wide and mind in awe at the sheer absurdity of it all.