Taken from the internal memory of an unnamed robot solider, after he was 'deactivated' on the battlefield during the Battle of Big Sur, Oct. 29, 2334.
from all directions
wind blows the ash and embers
that clog my servos
the night glimmers with
bioluminescent flies
designed to kill us
two humans, walking
together, beside the lake
my laserbeams flash
a small creature lands
silently on my finger
what is his purpose?
prime numbers, two, three
five, seven, and eleven,
they are everywhere
two flashes came first
in a soundless succession
then came the first wave
as I crouch to hide
we die, and are defined
my fear defines me
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