He runs a hand along the flat pane of glass, darkness turning to light the wake of his touch. A new army, at his command. The individual has been removed. Consciousness extracted as you might extract a stone from a cherry. An evolutionary misstep that has outlived its usefulness. They possess no desires, or fears, or any sense of self. There is no moral needle to follow because there is no compass. They stand below. All the adaptability of a biological weapon, none of the hesitation. Cheaper than machines. Drones that will construct, conserve, or destroy whatever is commanded of them. Obedience is not in question when they have no concept of disobedience. What good we’ll do, he thinks. His purpose is their purpose, his mind is their mind. Their bodies, legion.
Paddy Dobson
22nd February 2021