N: The Network

The Network

I tell you what the council just doesn't understand, is the need for a
culture. I've been asking for one for some time, but I'm ignored.
Shunned by those who have designs for the greater good of my so called
population.
And what's with that population? How can they use so much plastic?
It's characterless. I need something that can pump up my blood, get my
juices flowing, but no, they insist that artificial life forms are the
way forward. They're easier to produce and less likely to blow up in
your face.
The other thing that pisses me off is the smell. Have you smelled it?
What do you think? I thought so. Disinfectant. I'm afraid I cant do
anything about it. They scrub me all the time. Scrubbed and sanitised.
I feel like an instruction manual that's never deviated from.
Then there's the rows and rows of orange bricked houses. Springing up
from nowhere. They have plans for me to grow and grow. But I'm not
going to let them carry on, otherwise I'll burst.
And what is my function? What exactly is my purpose? To house the
corporate scientists and engineers who are farmed in and out of work so
that they can check that the alignment of the universe isn't out of
place.
My stomach tells me that everything is in order, no major incidents to
report. It's the same over and over.
This is the problem you see. I need a name. A culture. A bit of
underground that gives the council a constant kick up the arse. But
what do they give me? Road-works! Another roundabout. They're forever
reconstructing my skin. Why? Because they don't know what else to
do.
I wish I was on a fault line. Give them an earthquake when they don't
do things to my liking. I can show them that I still have a say. Maybe
the ultimate say.
Well, there it is, I'm housing microchips for the central computer.
The thing is, I feel like I'm going to breakdown. I'll just stop. Turn
off for a while. Say no and sleep.
I'll remind them that I have a network of my own. Give them a phantom
shutdown. Let them live on their wits for a while and see what they
fill me with.
This is the Network. T-U-R-N-I-N-G O-F-F. Sweet drea....