G.A.E., or the General Absence of Everything
by Chris Farago
It's not as unpleasant as you might think:
No pleasure, yes, but also no pain,
No interminable wait times for the next operator,
No paper cuts, no molded-over berries.
This poem isn't there, either,
No iota of self-awareness lurking.
No squee generated by that video
Of the cat walking on its back legs
And saying mama precociously.
The dystopians always frame this as a choice,
All or nothing,
But they've got it wrong:
All and nothing are there together on the menu--
Choose both and see what happens.