"Let There Be Streetlight!"

Deus ex machina: god from the machine!

The primeval, glorious being came thundering down & cried restitution, retribution & redemption [oh, dark redemption]; smoldering sunset eyes & black locks of funnel clouds & a deafening roar heard only as the silence of the cosmic dark. & its fingers spun webs of immortal perfection ensnaring all mortal souls at once -- its descent, of course, made upon a rickety, wooden machine lowering with creaky drunken swings. Pulled by a rope. A cheap throne of human construction.
God from the machine: the last human hope.

& the plot thickened & brimmed with promise & we praised & were enamored & dazed: resolution of our ideals incurred... The drama unfolded; an ancient Greek god, sent to rectify, rectify, rectify! A concept relentlessly resonating through time -- that our machine god would save the world, render humanity salvageable. & it was a beautiful work of fiction. Bestow upon me your truly potent righteousness, Deus!


But history repeats, repeats, repeats itself & what once failed & lingered only in the realm of fabricatedfiction... remained so. Ever faithful futility. The tragic flaw that rendered the plot device simultaneously a cheap fix & a brilliant vision.

For, what is power but failed in the face of spectacular abuse?


God from the machine: try in vain to save ourselves with artificial might & behold the atom bomb, polluted skies, & the corporatocracy! It cried "let there be light" & we echoed "let there be streetlight;" "let me save" & we echoed "we shall destroy."

Impotent human righteousness. God from the machine. Reality a parody of a comedy.

No, god is the machine -- as we reify & deify our almighty man-made prince of darkness, lord of doom. Worship, bow before our legendary, cataclysmic Fall. Wrought by the very potency that might have saved the world.

Diabolus Ex Machina!

The pocket watch inevitably slows to a stop with entropy...