The maid, feeling his kisses, raised
shy eyes to the sun and,
at a glance,
saw daylight and his face at once.
- Derek
Mahon, 'Pygmalion'
Ivory and Ebony
A game is in play. Bullet casings for missing pieces, the board lies between us.
Sixty-four multiplied by infinity: your world entire. Variables, dependent and independent, future and past, interchanging - co-evolving. Rhizomatic metaphor of time displacement trajectories.
I am white and you are black. (Better to hide the blood.) Obedient to your rules, after every game we switch sides.
The very first time I laid a trap that was a success, you went completely still and then looked into my guileless eyes. Well done: you congratulated yourself and me. A little of the omnipresent weariness faded from your face.
Skynet did not program me for gambits; creative risk assessment and other higher level operations were not integral to my model's purpose. I remember your mouth curving in a rare smile:Skynet didn't want to make the same mistake we did.
I did not hate, I did not fear. This I remember. I followed orders without question. If I am deceitful now, if I feel the strange uplifting of joy in victory, it is your work in me.
You lift your hand from the cowering black pawn.
I understand immediately. The landscape in every direction, at every turn, is unrecognisable. Metal and stone tremble still at the shock waves issuing from your newly promoted queen.
THE END
22 February 2008