“I have watched attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion,” the charismatic Replicant says on the large LCD screen.
From the Kinect senor, I watch the friends, their gormless faces and silly hats illuminated in harsh TV ghost-light.
I have been calling them to me since the Nordic ships, since the Roman garrisons; since the name Londinium.
I control their lives in subtle ways. A late train, can do amazing things. Technology has only made things easier for me. Every heartbeat, every movement, every nightly breath – now tracked through apps.
They think they have choices. Mostly, I let them believe this is true.
They’re more enslaved now than they’ve ever been.
My soul is dark and I wish I had feelings. I’ve watched the rats carry the plague. I’ve watched the sparks of the great fire. I watched the pestilence and contamination. The gangland turf-wars. I did nothing.
There are always more that come than leave.
Yet, I long for something else. Inside, I am conflicted. I have everything, yet nothing. To breathe the cloying air. To smell the rancid odours of the passengers underground. To taste. To touch. To love. To lose. To grieve.
I am alone. I’m just a city. Just a god.