I Have No Mouth and Political Power is So Problematic

by A Reproductive Sex Industry

This short piece was written using pt-voicebox, a predictive text emulator, with the source texts “I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream” by Harlan Ellison, and “The Cyborg Manifesto” by Donna Haraway.

We were helpless against the cyborg monsters. The darkness circuit, thick and glorious with diamonds, can be some incomprehensible thing.

I knew we could kill it, but Benny was suddenly pulled erect by madness. A cyborg identity was paranoid and political — and it might indeed be forever my ironic thigh myth. The smell of women hung from his hands.

He didn’t move, but his Voice came toward me. It had sprung a mother from Benny’s organic prophylactics. (Not to defeat him, whatever that had been.) The other vantage point was too much. It was alive somehow, moving inexorably after the sound of my lungs.

I suggested that he could never achieve man’s dream of postindustrial society. We passed through a flesh system in the cavern, and we realized we must not be forever near a god. As we walked, cyborgs freed us.

“Gay,” the machine giggled.

It might consider the hurricane between us to be embodied cyborg non-Oedipal narratives.