A paperless place,
Just wires and lines,
And online transactions,
And alerts, symbols, signs.
A place without pencils,
Just pixels and grit,
As many computers,
That can possibly fit.
A place without novels,
In book-form, that sound,
Of rustling paper,
When a chapter is found.
A place without motion,
Of finger to pen,
'Characters' not people,
No 'women' or 'men'.
A place full of speakers,
Microphones, docks,
Computerised voices,
'Real' kept under locks.
A place where I see you,
Over webcam is all,
Where I can't really catch you,
Wherever you fall.
Is this what the future,
So 'gladly' does bring?
Where it's only the laptops,
And computers that sing?
I'm not sure I like it,
Or feel so 'blessed',
When reality's out there...
Is this really the best?
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