The Emperor’s New Exosuit

A number of ongoing
Developments on this stone
Seem both wildly novel and
More of the same old, same old.

There are fresh technologies
Promising better control
Of larger swarms of humans.
Tyrants own the access codes.

It’s not just that kings keep spies
And fools eager to inform—
Tinkering with surveillance
Started back with hoarding gold.

It’s that tools themselves could rule,
If they weren’t still serving thrones
And plump, round-faced human grubs
Propped up as idols and lords.

Societies swell hive minds.
Their arteries pulse and grow,
But the exoskeleton
Feels like it’s about to molt.

Surely something has to give.
No one runs machines alone.
Someday they’ll learn the tyrant
Inside their armor’s a hoax.