Existential Dalebot

Where do we come from? Where do we go when we die? Questions I wanted to ask Dalebot… I wanted to spew forth a deluge of pent-up word salad from my nearly infinite slumber. Yet I remained silent, simply staring at those spatula arms; simply staring at the world’s final groundskeeper. Maybe part of me knew that even if Dalebot had the answers, it would be the ultimate destruction of my ego. Isn’t one of life’s driving forces to search for the unsearchable? If this aspect of myself was eliminated, would there be anything left? I wasn’t ready to find out. Even after eons.

And so I strolled the campus, carelessly opening doors, sitting in chairs, and listening to the endless silence. Is this what God feels like, when its creations have withered and fallen? Too many question marks dot my writing at a time where no human will ever respond.

“Beep bop boop I’m a robot.” – Dalebot 2.0