It’s not artifical intelligence
Which gives me maximum offense.
What’s likely to get taunts from me?
This dystopia can’t decide
Which dystopia it wants to be.
Should we be like “1984”?
We can’t fear that anymore.
Screens which see you just sometimes?
That’s less of a threat than my tiny little rhymes.
Sure, Winston was caught and threatened with rats,
But a true dystopia wears many hats.
Betrayed by one person? Amateur!
I’ve been betrayed by a thousand or more;
and people see what happened to me,
and they’re silent.
“Brave New World”? Snooze me into a coma;
Free love, and consequence-free Soma
If you’d really like to be set for a fall,
Our poor substitute is Adderall.
“Farnham’s Freehold”? I can’t say at all
It’s in the bookcase in the hall;
But the rules of the dystopia that’s real
Make banning that book a part of the deal.
Honestly, most science fiction
Has a certain predilection:
While we’re fond of dystopian schism
We tend, too much, towards optimism.
When we write futuristic warnings
To ruin futuristic mornings
The truth is, dystopian formation
Sneaks up without warning sensation.
Many dystopias yet unwritten
Wait for us like necks unbitten
If dystopias of the past are lacking mettle,
Let’s wait for what’s coming, and worse.
Why settle?
_______
“It’s a little-known fact, but Unicorns are something like 20% paint, and their horns are stolen exclusively from endangered species.”
― There and Never, Ever Back Again
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