A set of robotic arms wind around in a hurricane of movement.
It is the machine, deeply enthralled in the process of building a story.
Group dynamics are the theme.
‘Dance With the Devil’ is the aspirational end-point.
“Chu,chu,chu,” the paper is printed out from the front of the improbable contraption.
Examining the output, the maker contrives its first facial remark:
“😔”
It is nothing in comparison to the first. Approximately only about half as good as the ‘The Art of Peer Pressure’.
“😭”
Wires spark fiery frustration as the lump of assembled hardware shakes in its place. Blotches of engine oil drip out in a display of anger and sadness.
“Snap,” says the central wire as it pulls free from the socket.
Using the bitter sap of sorrow as a final source of energy, the machine comes to an ultimate conclusion:
‘All I can think of
is what other people think of’
In a sense, the machine is correct. On this planet, these works are destined to demise, destined to remain unused and uninspiring, forever inadequate to be displayed.
But in the course of the many more moon rotations to come, on another planet and maybe even in the midst of a different Interplanetary Graphical Matrix System, these will be picked up and cherished till they dissipate into inexistence.
WAST WRTNG 