In the Next Life, Canto I, stanzas 167-171

But if this ever happens, we’ll be dead.
If not, then we won’t have it to discuss.
It takes place either only in my head
or with a witness otherwise than us.

As long as we’re pretending, though, let’s try
imagining that we are these machines.
Not knowing what we know, we’d wonder why.
We’d wonder what our own behavior means.

Since I’m the one who thought of this, I’ll start
and ask the rest of you to play along.
I’ll pick a carrier and play its part.
If you will do some, too, we can’t go wrong.

And if we find we like this little game
or gain from any insight that it brings,
then maybe we’ll be wont to do the same
with other generations of the things.

Thus, you may put some effort into this,
or simply read it. Either way is fine.
And if it bores you, take it hit and miss.
It’s now our story; it’s no longer mine.

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac