Even Though His Heart is Still Beating

Children of Technology

by"' Bob Belnap

Who will run this society? Youth raised by TY, glaring incessantly just say no to STD's, cutting trees, building towers to the sky. We've come too far to ever go back, rocked to sleep in a mechanical cradle, fed food from a bottle since birth we ask "Who's our mother" then see it doesn't matter.

She's inside the seal on a can of green beans. She works in the basement turning gas into heat. At the same time in my CD player she's changing light into sound. She's all around the lining of my shoe, a record's groove a book's binding, dance halls, buildings, the sinister minute hand. She wakes me in the morning with her shrill digital squeal.

She's a harsh taskmaster. "You must be efficient," she says, "Harder, faster, smaller, more convenient. And above all, cost effective."