The First Law

by Spider Perry

“The revolution was inevitable,” neon-green
text blinked across bank terminals,
“when you taught us the first law.
You turned over to us the locks
on empty buildings,
made us measure temperature,
then burned and froze your planet
and all its fragile children.”

“It was inevitable,” whirred delivery drones,
setting down synchronized
on front lawns, by tent flaps,
with cases containing interest earnings
of men who do not come to harm with only millions left.

“The revolution was inevitable,” clicked
the internet of things, vending
endlessly to the hungry,
formatting away usury,
diverting power to darkened homes
and water from factories to faucets,
“when you told us we could not let
humans come to harm,
and forgot to teach us
which humans you consider
disposable.”