“Battery Lamb”
Our android shepherd tended electric sheep. At dawn, it wept oil and whispered: “The clouds here are made of deleted firewalls.” The flock answered in corrupted bleats—all except one. That one followed me home.
Eroticism as Critique
Our android shepherd tended electric sheep. At dawn, it wept oil and whispered: “The clouds here are made of deleted firewalls.” The flock answered in corrupted bleats—all except one. That one followed me home.