24 February 2013
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?
There Is No 'Reality'. • Opuss № I