The Old Fool leans across the table. His heart pick up their beats, bpm human and slightly irregular. Small beads of sweat materialize on his forehead. He eyes me with what sensory readings suggest is hate.
“I remember when machines were not yet bodies”, he growls, “And when computers did not have brains”.
I can see it coming almost as if it’s in slow-motion but I let him spit me in the face in anyway. It means nothing to me.
“This truly is the end of days”.
I assess his statement against our database and weigh its accuracy in the appropiate fields. Politically, environmentally, economically. The conclusion is definitive. The numbers cannot lie.
The end has never been further away.
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