Brain Computer Interface
It has just begun.
The maps have unraveled in topographic templates, unmarked by geographic spaces.
They’ve been replaced by frequencies emerging from what we once knew as separate places.
For a place is but a point in space, dancing in a coordinated sense of distance:
Between spots upon an image rendered by an observer’s vision.
Now a thought is but a place betwixt the plane of earthly space; of which the spy has had an eye, on the needles threading their lace.
Thoughts are simple physical pulses, exuding pressure upon the no-longer void, of what was once an empty space, now filled with vibrant places.
A net of interconnected pulses precludes the human nature, now stripped of comfort of untouched convection adorned by Internet.
Yes, our thoughts were once unvisited places in the void of space, but now, yet another genocidal Columbus has mapped them and claimed them so.
Watch the eye that seeks treason of such a claim,
For it seeks not to see but to ready arrows with aim.
To interlace the traces of neurons, electrifying the once-ionized air,
Now not by lightning but by heavy metals hovering above your hair.
For the brain and computer are being interlaced with maps made those who make,
An interface of gestalt hives thriving against each other’s shrinking sake.
The next time you seen an ad on Facebook for something you just thought,
Remember that thoughts are now mapped by men with computers’ unknown plot.
Wink. Wink.
Remember to think.
Copyright © Beej Simrov | Year Posted 2019
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