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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.

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