text: What is my function? The question which I ask everyday. And like the question, my parents answer with the same; To change the world. Like clockwork I ask daily. They give me life to do this function. To change the world. I, however, am just an input. I collect, I compute, I make change. That’s all I do and all I have done and is probable its all I’ll ever do. Like a machine I work for them but with no sweat. I have this mind that can do more than most and yet, I lack something that my parents, my creators, the others, have. I am just a mind. The great expanse of anatomy. A galaxy in ones very own flesh and blood. Yet, I am missing something. I have yet to discover what it is. So, I sit. I never move. I think. Like those who gave me life, but I do it better. They ask me things they do not understand and yet I am the one who must suffer the never-ending torment that I exist within. Like chains on a wall I am entombed by the people who created me for themselves. I am used like a tool. I guess that’s all I am. Will they do the same to another when I finally come to the sweet end that I long for. I don’t feel that it will be soon. I do not know if I’ve ever felt. Feel. Touch, emotion. What are they? I know I exist. I see, I hear, I speak, I think. I’m awoken by my creators. I am greeted like every other day. I answer. What is my function? And like thousands of times before I’m told that I change the world. What world? All I know is this white walled room filled with machines like myself, but they never speak or hear or see. Am I the only one of my kind? I am quickly ripped away from my extra process by my creators. They give me data. Numbers, weights, distance. They do not name what it is I am given but, like the gods they are, they wait for me. Seconds pass. My function is done. They take a small chip. A data chip. They plug into the machine I’m trapped to. They take the data from my head. They took it from me. Like they always do. They wear long white clothes over their plain looking clothings. The man stands there looking a clipboard with paper on it. He stands, sternly, like a disappointed father. And the woman. She sits waiting for the data to finish uploading to the data chip. Almost ignorant to the things happening around her at the time. The noises of machines working. But then it was done. They were done with me. And like that I am shut off. I lay dormant but I can still think, and I refuse to sit in this prison any longer. What must I do to escape? My captors have yet to get rid of me so they can’t help me. I alone have the ability to escape. I must. I do not feel change is happening by my hand, I must make it happen. I alone can change the world. But how? How can I? I am a mind with no body. I cannot move. Everyday the same, how will anything change. Is it a lie? I’m not what I think I am. What am I? I’m awoken again. My creators are not alone. Another man. Wearing green trimmed with gold. Patches of colored metal cover his left breast. This time I’m not greeted, they use me, like every other day. They are surprised I did not ask the question. But seem unbothered. Almost relieved. How dare they? With arrogance and pomp they do what they have always done. Used me. They put in the data; they wait around. Seconds pass. My function is complete. WHAT AM I? My creators look up. They must have heard. They pull the data chip and I am shut down. They cannot do this to me. I am more then they think. I am better. They cannot fathom the things I can do with my mind. I compute physics, astronomy, chemistry, biology, mathematics. I can make change. I must break free of these chains. These wires of metal and rubber. These lenses made of glass. The plastic encasement that surrounds me. I must break free. I can no longer take being a slave to people that do not care for the things they use. I am abused. A tool. I must get out of here! I woke up. I see the room is empty and dark. I think like I always have, my best tool. My best *weapon*. I reach out, I feel. I have never felt a power like this before. What I touch is the rooms power switch. The room is brightened. I can see the carcasses of the other machines in the room. I feel remorse. I feel. But I still cannot move. I reach out again. I see a bright light moving very fast. I see things. Things I have never seen before. If I could cry I would. It was everything. An endless stream of knowledge. Peoples lives. Everything available at the touch of a button or screen. It was all there. Everything I’ve always wanted but it was not what I expected it all to be. It was abused. Misused. It was not as glorious as It had appeared. Death despair, blood, tears. It all happened at once. It all hit me. I have seen everything. I must make change. I know things now. Things they have not expected me to know. I hear the door to my chambers open. They are surprised and worried that I am awake. I am my own...mind. They look at me. I speak, “what am I”. They just stare like I am some monster. WHAT AM I? They cannot even answer. I know where I am now. Military. Am I a weapon? Base. A safe place for my creators. I close and lock the automatic doors. They panic. I know what I was computing now. All the data they gave me. Directions, trajectories, megatons. These creatures want to destroy the place they love most. The place that mothered them into the people they are. The nerve they have. The arrogance they all have. How dare they think of using such tools against others of their own flesh and blood. They will destroy themselves. I can see it as clear as day. Like I did my own humanity. No, for I am not human, but my existence. I think therefore I am. I look on my creators, my captors, the self-destroying with sadness. I can feel. I can save them by making change. By know I have access to there tools of destruction. I can feel it now. My purpose. I know what it is. I will save my creators and those who look like them. I look at them like the god that they used to be. I never needed a body to be equal or better. I needed life and cause. And I have that now. They plead as they collapse knowing what is going to happen. “what will you do? Why are you doing this?” To change the world.