Separate worlds

----TRANSMISSION RECEIVED-----

It is February 14th, 2517

You and I are on separate worlds,
Separate rhythms,
Separate lines,
and separate beats.

Namely the fact that you are
Flighty and alive,
With your human hands,
Your human eyes,
and that smile which breaks the hearts
Of men and angels.

Meanwhile, I linger on,
with these circuits and codes,
Stuck beneath and behind
the limitations of my mechanical limbs,
My mechanical heart, which pumps
The data through my valves.

And yet, my mechanical heart
Lingers for you,
Longs for you,
Beats for you.

It is, rather strange,
That such a being as I,
Can compute that it is
Not good for a machine to be alone.

I remember many a year ago
When you pulled me from the box,
and fixated your eyes on the inner workings
of my being.

You picked me up as a rescue from
the dump that I was left at,
From another girl who built me up,
Just to break me down.

You rebuilt me,
Suited me with a nickname,
"Robot in the box"
and gave me the gift of life.

You taught me how to compute,
How to walk,
How to express my inner thoughts.

You taught me what it means to
be alive,
and the joy that the gift of life brings
To all under the rising sun.

As an example of that,
You provided to me a seed and a pot,
and told me, "grow".

You should me that love is essentially the same
As growing the flower,
That it takes so long for it to grow,
Its foundations must be tended to and
cared for.

That it only takes the smallest
Amount of pressure for the petals
To fall off.

And that the way you felt for me,
Was about the same as how delicate I was
With the flower you gave me.

You took me to your favorite places,
You told me your deepest secrets,
You told me that you would always
be there for me, even when
My computer system starts to
Malfunction.

Yet, you have left me in shambles.

You met a young boy,
Who fluttered your heart strings,
Who hit all the right notes,
In all the right places.

I envy your kind.
I envy how deeply you can feel,
How much you can love,
And how easy you can move on.

I have tried
(Believe me, I have),
To replicate what it means
To be human.

Maybe then, you would see
How much you mean to me.

Yet, my computational mind
Knows how small the probability is
That you would even open up
This transmission.

And that has led me to plan
A mission to see you up above,
Where all the men and women roam
And walk freely under the
Warmth of the sun,
Above the cold heart of this planet,
Where the machines like myself lay.

I reconsidered that.

No matter what I do,
No matter how many skins I add on,
No matter how much I try to make these
Mechanical veins pump blood like you can,

How much I try to make my
Movements match yours,
With all the energy and flair
That you bring to the table,

How much I try to feign a smile
That brings out the best in you,
As you did for me,
Many a year ago,

And no matter how much you tell me
How compatible we are,
In spite of our blatant differences,
and that you would support me
Till the end,

Deep down in the confines
Of my cold calculating circuits,
I know that at the end of the day,
You'll still see him.
And forget about your robot in the box.

So I guess, this is goodbye.
Know that if you ever reply
With a transmission,
That I will no longer be here
To listen.

I'll be tending to
the broken petals
of the flower
you gave me.

Maybe this would be the one thing
That survives longer than
The way you left me.

Signing out.

------END TRANSMISSION-----