Touchscreen

We are our best machines.

Flat screen, touch screen--haptic. There are buttons sort of, buttons in theory,well no, buttons literally, but they are hidden so smoothly, so finely, because we are our best machines.



We are not machines; not the first type, prototype, not the first of its kind, perhaps, but the best so far; there are no large red emergency buttons, no delete buttons tucked along our jaws, no brightness adjusters on either side of our eyes. Scratching the surface will not lure them out; the functions are sleeping under the skin the functions are sleeping under the skin different engines difference engines we are the best so far.

We are mover and moved; one thumb on the scroll pad the other is the scrolling rolling do you know where you're going?

We are the best so far; we are lost in how good we are, really. Arrogant fizzes, every last one. Where are the buttons? I don't know. Where are the functions? I know. I know.


We are monsters behind the screen; monsters under the skin. We are tangled networks and the snarling loops and back loops of an electrical octopus--under the skin. Without buttons or keys, so much must be pressed and pushed and buried under the skin--now, look, they've run into one another. The fan has broke, and the technological heat of it all is fusing them together, winding them together switching signals changing tracks like a train. The circuits are mucked up fucked up lucked out but it's good that way, ain't it?
011011110110111001100101
Yeah, it's good that way, Marty. It's real good. Now why don't you push that pretty little head of yours around the corner so I can--
Bam.

We are undirectable machines--no instructions, no buttons, just haptic. Don't go looking, don't go scratching for buttons--they aren't there. You're scratching the screen. You're bloody all over and there's functions spinning in your blood. Nose at, graze, hum, and you will be answered; sing, dog, and pull the food up from the ground. Things are found in increments; we eat everyday. I ate a shit-ton of amazing chips and dips and taco-amazing on Wednesday, and was slightly horrified to find that the next morning, I was hungry yet again.
Shouldn't there be one thing? One moment? EpiphanyepiphanypointpinaclepushBUTTON-

No.

We are clever machines.
We are damned machines.
We are hardy machines.
We have pushed out and picked off our buttons and put them around us, onto others, onto other things.
We are our best machines yet.