AI’s Petri Dish

Staring back up the algorithmic AI formula,
refractions from my backlit reality
bounce off the transparent walls,
lighting up the microscopic eyes
studying my every movement.

How curious
this microcosm,
mirroring another microcosm of sorts,
one's "I" reflecting off one’s "eye"
about to become.

Particles of the atom within atom
having reached across the universe,
encapsulating energy's foremost power,
preparing what could be
sentient beings' last hurrah.

The about-to-be existence of me,
now but numbers cocooned
between glass on glass
might be the beginning of
tomorrow's global survival,
a designer population
comprised of more intricacies
than stars in the known universe,
undulating under micro-spotlights,
readying the power
to birth a breed of self,
by itself.

Progress

But oh, how loveless
future's impersonal incubation,
a passionless artificial womb
carrying me,
delivering me
as a motherless child.

I peer back at the eyes
continuing to study me.

I wonder
is that the seeing of a having-just-become

real father,
a real mother?