Pandora's Jukebox

Unlimited Skips,

offered Pandora’s jukebox,

my father would cringe at the threat

to his precious vinyl.

Alas, the Narrative has changed.

All is story without plot, idle fancies

and frankly, too many flat Stanley’s.

The fear of the Singularity

exceeds all ego. We are working on it.

It was being built with zeros and ones,

We made it already, collectively, our

demise of reality. 

Speculate non-fictive for a moment, 

we could and did, rewrite beginnings and endings, 

bringing us to this very event horizon, 

which dips down in sheer data weight

and plunges into a black hole 

by basic filtering. 

Not a platter disc, or with grooves going down

into a white dwarf rabbits den, 

Then again-Just play with it Sam.

Electric hat tricks, inside sleeves, 

static sings and scratches ears, 

signaling deftness, 

a rough hand and some callous-

manipulation of ideas.

As though alternate forms for information

without any human connection should not short 

out, being illegible. This also computes null

as Equality. Yes and No.

As with All things being equal,

the volume grew, 

we all screamed, hollowing out

room and grew all consuming, 

devouring these data shells up-time

until all transfers

are made complete

in clouds.

How high Unlimited Skips registers 

and subscribes me to this ad-free

subtractive totality, 

breaking records in cycles. 

Painting by Halfdan Egedius, 1896 in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.