Technology
Solder Synapse
I put your brain together
In little chips beneath my hands
With rough solder-work to fuse your systems.
And instructions to fill your thoughts.
You come to life in sampled blasts of voltage
First a beating heart: something, nothing.
Something, nothing.
You wake by reading bits tucked away in
A little continuous space in your memory.
Discrete Light
Interesting little circuits
Configured like a brain, perhaps.
Little nascent impulses, like twitches
Begin your creature-breath in 5-volt lines
The nervous system of a small and simple existence
And the factory printers, “your warm mother”
When I pull the plug I watch your light go out slowly
But then a sputter, a dying breath, and a small pop
Like I watched your soul fly out from my hands,
Tethered by this umbilical, copper embrace