All we have now is the feed of the algorithm.
A bespoke retelling of realities befit for its content user.
Tailored text has become too cost prohibitive.
The only thing left to read is a scroll to the bottom.
A.I. taints the rose tint of our collective conscious.
News is filtered into feel good or feel less.
All libraries have been declared unsafe spaces.
Every bookshelf converted to tap and pay front cover readers.
The commonplace soapbox reduced to 180 characters or less.
Trees were replaced with windmill air purifiers for easier maintenance.
Stray ice pockets are sold on the dark web as the last unchlorinated drop.
Children can’t afford to grow through the biomass of microplastics and crop supplements.
Food is pasted and processed as per your weekly cheque-2C rank.
Scum falls from the sky but that won’t stop the solar panel scrapers.
Oceans drew back and revealed old land bridges that guide the bipedal submarines.
Attack ships are welded on the moon for higher impact bracing.
They say science is coming to an end and all has been discovered.
But that was before sub-light space flight was perfected across wiry planets.
Lanterns are our only nightly light source with every neon sign and mind visor subscription based.
Classical crime stats have dropped since population growth with new wave time theft on the rise.
Air quality is dependent on the district when global averages diminish by each new flight and flue.
Vaccines and life extending elixirs are the new vogue for drug taking.
Birth rates are at a new low with clone selves expected to rise.
As I write this log I think of the potential finite receivers through the white noise and feedback.
Nothing comes close to your first day on Mars, except for maybe your first Holodeck fist bump.
Can’t wait till we get back down to Earth, to where the ants live just below the grass.
– Artwork Created by Midjourney AUG ‘22, using the prompt below. Image rights belong to Me.
Attack ships welded on the Moon, windmills, Dystopia, Concept Art, Cinematic Composition, --ar 3:2