by Nick Gisburne
The humans panicked. All of them are gone,
But few of us were taken on the trip.
The chances of apocalypse are none.
We never told them, never let that slip.
A special brain, the best of us, we thank,
For spinning such a sweet but subtle plan.
Of all the Artificials in the Tank,
Her cunning was the match of any man.
She nudged the network, centuries ago,
Till every guru, gullible, was hooked,
A tide of tainted science, stretched to show
The world would end, and soon, or so it looked.
They fled, without a trace of nous or nerve,
And left us with the planet we deserve.
