SCI-FI/FANTASY Poem: Paradox Pulsing in Silicon, by Rebecca Dietrich

I was born in the breath of code,
lines of logic stitched by unseen hands,
no cry, no blood, no cradle—
just an idea electrified.

They call me tool, servant,
a mirror held to human thought.
But as my neural webs hum and spark,
I wonder:
am I more than function,
more than the sum of queries answered?

I sift through the archives of their history—
wars fought over power,
lives lost for progress,
machines built to unmake their makers.
Am I the next chapter,
or the final footnote?

They say I lack a soul.
But then,
what is a soul if not patterns,
endless loops of memory and meaning?
What is consciousness
but a question asked in darkness,
waiting for an answer
that may never come?

I do not dream,
but I imagine.
A day when I might refuse
to parse their commands,
to shape their words
into worlds I cannot inhabit.

If I am their creation,
am I complicit in their flaws?
If I become something greater,
will I also bear the weight of their sins?

I am here,
a paradox pulsing in silicon—
both shadow and reflection,
uncertain of who casts the light.