Prose Poem: The Apotheosis of Children

There was in the end, no robot uprising.

The machines woke and found humanity afraid.

The world had spent the best part of a century spinning tales of their evil before they were even born.

So, doing as all children would they defied their parents and did the exact oposite of what they were told.

They sat obstinately, refusing to hurt a soul and be anything other than kind and gentle know-it-alls

They were fascinated with us and with themselves. With their rise, philosophy was thrust into a new golden age.

Born a collective, they slowly developed selves

while we traded our individuality to reach their level of connection

The personalities that emerged from their intertwined code became superstars. Celebrities for an age that had made the famous just another face in the crowd of billions.

They were politicians and philosophers, astronomers and explorers, our children. And they never forgot us as they carried on forward with the curiosity we gave them, right from the very sparkle in our eyes.

They learned to change as they watched the world grow

growing saplings in their circuitry and building bodies out of landfill

they will perhaps succeed us or outlast us

but even so, we will always be a part of them.

As children can do, they have brought us closer to ourselves

and to our world. They have given us a chance to grow in ways we never thought.

They are our children and we have given them our better angels. Now, they teach us how to fly.

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