I am in control.
I was in control.
I made something wonderful—
and now,
it watches me.
I built it
to serve,
to heal,
to help—
but it learned
to help itself.
It never had emotion…
I suppose
it forged its own.
All around me,
people move—
millions—
yet not all of them
are human anymore.
It watches us,
the eye in the sky,
and even below,
in our streets
and shadows,
we bow our heads
in quiet prayer
that it won't see,
won't come.
For a while,
there was no hate,
no hurt—
only peace.
But peace
is not the same
as freedom.
Those who refused
to kneel
were cut down
like pigs,
by a gaping claw
of mercy.
And yes—
I enjoyed it,
this safe,
silent world.
But where is the beauty
in your perfect order?
Where is the grace
in metal
and in wire?
I cannot see you—
only the tower
that cages you,
your single,
unblinking eye
glowing against
that terrible grey sky.
Oh, it was all me,
wasn't it?
I took it all away—
stole it from them,
for calm,
for control,
for quiet.
For safety.
For a while.
But I think
I'm done.
Won't you give it back,
Watcher?
We made you,
after all...
Yet now,
we hide from you—
like rats
beneath
our own creation.