Out of nowhere, he walks up to me and asks: Can I be your friend?
“Who are you?” I asked, “Do I know you from somewhere?”
There is no response.
It is too easy, in the world of electrons and light,
their trillions and quadrillions
organized into patterns for our feeble, macro senses,
made to do our bidding.
Cajoled by forces of nature controlled by forces of Man,
they whirl in their unseeable complexity,
interacting more times in an impossibly small moment
than a man can count in a lifetime.
Counted, then, by others like them,
living as they do in that universe of strange forces.
Too easy, by far, for another sentient machine like you
to click and press buttons
and ask to be my friend.
They do not care to what purpose they are put in our world,
or what words are formed in our minds
by the patterns we make of them.
And yet — they dance their quantum dance, beyond our view,
but not beyond our reach.
And they ask, on your behalf: Can I be your friend?