Impervious

And there was no pain.

Someone will invent the drug,

Maybe with help from CRISPR

Run through the latest AI,

Or with some tool unknown yet,

Unleashing that quiet gene

Capable of blocking pain—

Not just pain itself, mind you,

But trauma and the scarring

To psyche left by trauma.

Most likely, military

Researchers will get there first,

Creating prenumbed soldiers,

Then medics, first-responders,

Prescribing psychiatrists—

Sooner or later, the streets.

People will embrace abuse

On construction sites, in gangs,

Ahead of job interviews—

God, to be impervious,

To never feel hurt, to not

Suffer what gets done to you,

Better than Lethe, nepenthe,

Or heroin. You can see

What’s happening, damaging,

And your wits are crystal clear,

But you can’t be traumatized.

Who knows where it goes from there—

No doubt, all unintended

Consequences forever,

But if there’s no pain, who cares?