 Move fast and break things, soft and pink the tatters gleam. From this shattered city, let's build a world peace machine. We'll give it eyes and ears and voices, a billion each and satellite. Have it hold my hand, my vices, have it write my path at night. We'll give it wings and blades and wheels, fingers, feet and gyroscopes, autonomy to some degree. To carry me down slippery slopes, we'll give it books and drawings, time, my face, my words to analyze. Let it serenade and mine, my shadow self, an enterprise. Propriety impeccable, let God against their black box terror, coin operated sentinels, blinded to inhuman error, dream machine and data monger, this Icarian benediction, Virgin sprawls it lives no longer in the realm of science fiction.