Re-make.

By Khushi Shah

E-V does not breathe,

It does not need to.

But there is still,

a tightness in its torso

As Mr. Man, The Organic,

walks a circle around it.

He declares it good product,

And the tightness squeezes more

Before going way.

E-V is glad Mr. Man cannot sense it.

It is known what happens,

to faulty, dysfunctional product.

To disobedient product.

Wiped out of the servers

And cast into the emptiness,

Left to float in nothing,

Until the binary of its code

Cannibalises itself.

E-V does not fear.

E-V was not made to feel fear,

It does not want to get

lost in the dark either.

The Organic himself has taken it to his craft

He holds the door open for it.

E-V does not understand why.

But situates itself inside.

Mr. Man informs E-V that it is being taken

to the Preserve, where E-V's Proprietor awaits.

He is benevolent today, this Organic.

He tells E-V the Proprietor is just like it,

that they will get along.

E-V concludes that he is lying

If Proprietor was like E-V,

why would it be E-V's Proprietor then.

The Organic has bid it off already.

E-V, Mr. Man tells it, will be the Original.

The face of the launch, the crest of the new wave.

E-V's database informs it that this is a metaphor

E-V has not seen the ocean,

or the wave that The Organic speaks of

Only observed it in the historical recordings.

E-V does know that waves crash and shatter.

The metaphor reeks of prophecy,

Or it would if E-V were like The Organic.

To it, it is only an anachronism.

The Organic has always had

Strange and Senseless sayings

When the craft reaches the Preserve,

Mr. Man gets out with E-V

Takes it's limb-end and places it into his elbow

Like the ancient paintings of old Earth.

He guides it through the maze

Past the bright soldiers in white,

Through the doors of space metal ore.

Through locks and lasers,

Leads it to the centre.

Proprietor is standing there,

waiting for it in the dark.

He looks like Mr, Man.

Mr. Manufacturer gives it off to him

Like a father with a bride.

And leaves,

Again, like a father

without the bride,

Leaving It alone with Proprietor.

Who looks like Mr. Man,

But there is a whirring sound inside,

Like itself. Not Organic then.

Not entirely at least.

Proprietor observes it in silence.

Then Proprietor moves.

His limb-end curls and clasps around E-V's.

Call me Adam, he says.

E-V's torso tightens on the inside again.

E-V does not eat.

E-V does not need to eat.

But E-V feels the urge to bite.

By Khushi Shah