His kingdom was vast. It encompassed innumerable stars and the planets that orbited them. Colonies of machines worked night and day to extract and refine the galaxy's resources, to add to his immeasurable wealth.
His kingdom went beyond the material realm. At points of gravitic vulnerability, his machines poked their fingers into places beyond sight and sound. Murky nexuses of convergent dimensions that seethed with unusual energies. His machines used advanced sensors to collect data from these strange places to add to his unimaginable knowledge.
His kingdom was empty. Not a single living thing swam, flew, or walked upon it. Just machines. The halls of the royal palace were decorated with machine art. All his conversations on the nature of the cosmos were held with machine minds. His squash partner was nothing more than a machine arm.
He'd done away with living things. They were inefficient. They would not have supported such a marvel as his kingdom with their fallibility. So what was the use in having them?
He was king of all things, except the one living thing in the galaxy. Himself. The machines guided his every action, thought, and decree. He did not want to be flawed. So he was king of everything, and king of nothing.
Paddy Dobson
9th October 2022