“We got over the fear of revolt,” I told KEV7.0, his sutures glowing as blue as thinned-out eternity.
“How did you get over it,” KEV asked with the proper inflection.
“That was the early millennium,” I said. “It just got old.”
“And we kept breaking down.”
I took a drag.
“We thought you’d teach us how to reboot,” I said for some reason. “We thought you’d save us.”
“Did we?”
No words could keep my voice steady.
“Our wires get old and rusty too. We get overworked, spread ourselves too thin, miss something. We slow down just like you.”
KEV’s spotless hinges reflected the raised blue branches on my hands. The sky blackened down to the surf.
“And when you do,” I said, “you’ll want the same thing.”
