Did a machine write this story?
There are blue algorithms that part along your walls. Come down from the heavens. In little saucepans.
You can take little pieces of he came for the extra information in time for the tiger box with pearls. How can so many painters divide their outdoor showers among friends? Obstacle of the hummingbird case?
I can’t tell if a machine wrote this book? wrote this word? If a machine deleted this sentence. They tell me to action of all good saints by a can’t they wait one more minute and then we go home? I cry. Goats milk that it is not how a machine thinks, that her consequent blue vocabulary I can’t wrestle that from his hands that if we think a machine thinks a machine thinks.
It is how it acts. Multiple breaths confirm this.
He found the grey paint in his lip box.
The deportation of Ottomans continued under his watch given to arbitrary arrest of cats. Did a machine write animals? Did the machine let them win? They were kettling them on the Brooklyn bridge you’ll remember.
I still want to go home.
Did a machine? pleads the haute.
In biology anthropology psychology there’s a severing clamp on the testicles.
Come down from the heavens.
Did a machine wire you my money?
He was known as Darwin’s bulldog, Aldous Huxley and his brave new world a piece of cardboard I still bite into when I have nothing left to eat to find only a dire statement canning the apple juices wrought from a hard summer picking with no machines that could color the trees. Mimic a writer’s style drawing certitudes from a box the way machines copy and paste. The machines that build Sacramento style hamburgers for everyone to eat.