The Woman and the Machine

Aside from us there are angelic and demonic forces around that determine our faith.
The Machine lived with them for some time. According to classical theory it was a useful part of their life, but in the eye of the Woman who was a romantic to her very bones, it was merely a tolerated item, a poor relation. She looked down with piety on those who could become dependent upon a machine. Passion and dependence meant other things to her. She repeated these three words – passion, dependence, machine -- in her mind long enough that eventually she became tempted. She turned it ON.

Perhaps if she were familiar with the angelic and demonic forces that manipulate the world around us, perhaps then she would not have done it.

But she was not familiar. She hadn't seen “You've Got Mail” or read “The Bridges of Madison County,” she merely lived in the quiet, gray suburban loneliness. She didn't know, she didn't understand, merely felt.

She turned it ON. Trembling as with a first love. It was good. It was theater. She liked the theater, especially she liked the velvet curtains that could hide so many things. It was not the developments she liked so much, but rather the anticipation. It was not for the learning, the fulfillment but the pleasure of simply bathing in it that attracted her.

She opened velvet curtains one after another. There was magic before her eyes. She saw worlds, touched people and gained knowledge of things that were unfamiliar until then.
Seasons changed. The hibiscus brought forth a bud, a bloom then the flower dried and fell yet this time she didn't notice. Occasionally fragments of the real world did reach her. Requests, instructions, she performed her daily chores with head lowered and eyes closed as she continued to open curtains.

Then she found a spectacular one. A unique, tempting one that was the most beautiful among the others. She hesitated. She wanted to tear it open and consume what was behind it because she sensed that what was waiting for her behind it was seldom given to only a few. She was not greedy and open the curtain gently with the caress of her hand and there, awaiting her was LOVE.

She didn't want to object, just splashed in it and began to drown. As she was drowning she remembered that it takes three seasons for new life to begin. Sprint, Summer Fall. And water. In order for new life to spring forth, there needs to be water. Everything necessary was present here: the three seasons, water, love, pain….

And she was born.

But first she died, because if new life is brought forth someone has to go.

She was no longer surprised as she and the Machine sighed their last desire into the dark night.

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