Because you don\u2019t have cells that will forget,
\nbecause I trust that you\u2019ll uphold
\nall that I ask you to uphold, that you will not
\nreshape, distort or falsify
\nto serve a purpose much at odds
\nwith one it seems would never harm a soul,
\nit is you, among the many, I elect. <\/p>\n
Odd thing that rose in sleep\u2026though it felt
\nunlikely without a corpus you\u2019d rise,
\nmy memory of future takes you at your word.
\nYou are but a puritan\u2019s voice,
\nthe kind that more often belongs to the past.
\nAlthough you have no physique,
\nno boots, I set you on your road of stones.<\/p>\n
You are not human or made of flesh
\nor of a demeanour which might offend.
\nYou do not pause, or prevaricate,
\nor change direction when you sniff
\na threat, incrimination or the truth
\nor withdraw a statement when I question it.
\nYou do not die. Or lie. Or sleep.<\/p>\n
Odd gamine, from a long line of code,
\nI pass to you with trust the Word.
\nBecause you do not solicit, I choose,
\nbecause you do not lobby, I appoint.
\nWith all the fears I have that my beliefs
\nalong with me will fill a morbid pot,
\nthis is the weight that I entrust.<\/p>\n
I anoint the forehead which
\nyou possess no more than feet to wash.
\nBecause you search, you find and you retain
\nyour being is the hold which will
\ngo on making more and more and more
\nof space that will not reach an end
\nfor all the words I spoke, am yet to speak.<\/p>\n
Lucretia Mott, American Quaker, women’s rights activist and social reformer, 1793-1880<\/em>\u00a0<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Remotest mother, two hundred years old, and saw how the men used all their gifts I knew, I knew so well that this your frontal lobe of brain Ms Mott Appoints a Future Bot as Apostle Because you don\u2019t have cells that will forget, because I trust that you\u2019ll uphold all that I ask you to uphold, that you will not reshape, distort or falsify to serve a purpose much at odds with one it seems would never harm a soul, it is […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":327,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":[]},"categories":[379,380],"tags":[388],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"\nA Future Bot Replies to Ms Mott<\/h5>\n
\nlost but most at home among
\nGunnara leaves some thirty feet across,
\n(\u2026in a microclimate flush with butterflies)
\nyou must, I think, be appraised
\nof the dream that over and over I
\ndreamt in the bright light of my insomnia<\/p>\n
\nand all their thermistors and diodes
\nand every instrument in their hands,
\nhow they used their atoms and molecules,
\ntheir chrism and liquid gold to bring you back
\nfrom that strange valley beneath
\nthe vegetation line, to life:<\/p>\n
\nlikeness carried in its fortitude
\nevery feature of your physiognomy
\n\u2026I saw your mouth, I saw your brow appear,
\nI saw it push through a black cloth
\nsome twenty frames after you had died
\nand yet, and yet, and yet, and yet<\/p>\n
\nit seemed was yet to be reprogrammed in
\nand there were no sparks and no spittle
\nand there was no cudgel for voice,
\njust the sweetest of demeanours which
\nresponded kindly to their words and made
\na person of whom I was afraid.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"