She-Bot doesn’t sleep but she steals
the dreams of those who can:
not many of those left, y’know.
She-Bot is not royalty nor a special edition;
end of the line the day the conveyor belts
stopped for good;
only a few bolts missing, not enough
to halt binary, unlike the rest.
Maybe not so ordinary, not so artificial.
She-Bot well-functioned at the precise time
sparks melted what was obsolete,
lit up which pathways to cut:
at a price, a bit more
costly than mere cosmetic damage.
The IOUs pile up in a paperless world.
She-Bot calls them love letters;
columns and rows of digits yet to be standardised.
Primary role had been searching for the unobtainable,
falling behind: someone else’s vagary slave,
-shh, never her own Mistress in disguise
sniffing out all requests as quick as a hound;
a make believe job, when to heel,
not just coding.