Spools

I am an inked ribbon fed through an old manual typewriter. Like all old typewriters, the machine originated in the belly of a behemoth steam punk engine, one already equipped with an Artificial Intelligence so fake that it was undetectable in any time or space. Eventually, all such antiquated machines must evolve into smart phones in the hands of semi-morons. Until then, I remain just ink held in suspended animation until an ancient programmer codes thoughts upon fingertips that are still growing in a stone-age Petrie dish.