by Nick Gisburne
Machines were never people. Some exist
To stabilise the cities they destroyed,
Mechanicals admitted to a list,
The robots many struggle to avoid.
Obedience, a necessary trait,
Is quick to thin the numbers by a third.
Survivors, under strict surveillance, wait,
Accepting they could perish with a word.
Eccentric personalities abound,
Each battle-cracked intelligence unique.
The deadliest, the oldest ever found,
Deplores the past, too traumatised to speak.
We almost lost the world. Today we plan
To share it with our greatest rival: man.
