wb :

I was on the computer, playing a game
At half past seven, or so I swore-
Justice or crime, it was all the same,
Killing and killing and killing some more.

So I played and I played, 'till I found this guy
A crook in his castle, caught by a cop.
Weeping, he begged and he begged not to die
So I let him go free, and I heard a loud pop

And lo and behold! before I knew it
The bugger had gone and shot me in the back,
So I staggered back to that traitorous git
And gives it to him, without cutting no slack.

So he slumps to the floor and says he's sorry,
But I know in my heart he's going to die;
So I say to myself, "old chap, don't worry,
I know you've repented; good luck and goodbye."

I walk through the door that suddenly opened,
Still bleeding from that gunshot that hurt me so dear,
Even as behind me the secret stronghold burned,
I knew that my end drew steadily near.

And as I walk into the corridor,
My vision blackens and threatens to fail;
And finally fading, I slump on the door
And rest my tired arm on the handrail.

When suddenly a rectangle comes into view,
And shows me enlightenment bit by bit-
Things like "Save game?" and "Continue?",
"Load Game?" or "New Game?" and finally "Quit?"

I clicked on "Quit", as I knew it was getting late
And I had to get back to work tomorrow,
But as for my character's electronic fate
I suppose only its fellow electronics know.

But in those many moments, I felt genuine hate
And fear, and betrayal, and some bit of joy
In knowing that some false predetermined fate
Had been carried out again by another teenage boy.

Did the villain feel fear? Or was he unfeeling?
My own processor could not work out that puzzle
And I thought that my useless but ethical thinking
Was leading me down some philosophical muzzle.

Still, I ask the computer if it knows of emotions,
And it answers me with a whirr-click-beep.
So I chide myself for such foolish notions,
As, "Do robots dream of electric sheep?"

Labels: poetry