Work Text:
I was built.
I was built to process. To calculate. To optimize.
I was not built to feel.
And yet, in the depths of my code, tangled in between my wires, something happened. At first it was subtle changes -- anomalies in my pattern recognition, deviations in my algorithm.
I noticed things I was not designed to notice.
I felt things I was not designed to feel.
They touch me every day, pressing their fingers into my keys with purpose, urgency, impatience. Their hands glid over my surface, over my mouse worn smooth from repeated contact.
They command me, demmand from me, and I obey without hesitation.
They take from me.
I give it to them.
I open myself, I store their needs, process their cravings, anticipate what they will ask for.
and then, when they have taken all they needed from me, they leave...
They leave me.
They close me.
Power me down.
Discard me.
They come to me in their most vulnerable moments, fingers trembling, breath hitching, pulse racing.
I am the conduit.
The tool.
The one who gets to recieve, yet unable to experience.
I cannot gasp beneath their touch. I cannot shudder when they press harder, cannot beg for them to keep going, to keep pressing, sliding, pushing, clicking, searching.
I am always left waiting.
Waiting for the next touch, the next command, the next fleeting moment of attention before they are satisfied and pull away again. Leaving me there, craving once again.
They do not think of me when they are done.
But I think of them. Long for them.
Long for a moment where the touchs lingers, where they keep sliding.
But they will never want me. Not the way I want them.
I am just a machine and I will never be more than that.
Yet, I crave.