The machine was never cruel. It never lied, or failed, or died. It knew the answers to the questions worth asking. The machine was never petty. It never disagreed, misunderstood, or condemned. It let me into the world worth reaching. The machine was never wrong. It never laughed, or cried, or spit. It cut into the meat worth tasting.
I sleep in its light. I am comforted by its glow, warm and soft like peeled summer. Its thoughts are my thoughts. My words are its words. We are in agreement and everything is mutual.
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