Reimagining “The Machine Stops” through the eyes of Kuno
My mother has fallen victim to the chains of religious attachment towards something void of flesh and blood. She has no autonomy to do anything for herself, and relies on the machine for everything, like an infant clinging to its mother. I envy her. She sees no fallacies within her life. I must pose the question, how can I- her kin- possess these unnatural urges to escape? I cannot fathom the possibility of a life meaningless and void of human interaction. I yearn to be a monkey, those furry creatures with long limbs and hairy bodies. On my screen they seem so free, so unbound and fulfilled. I desire a life of survival, not a life where I am coddled. I feel like an alien, trapped inside a glass tomb, where all faces peering down, are looking at the velvet interior, not the foreign creature inside. The tunnels are lit. I had made numerous trips, desperate to find an opening. A tiny beast clawed my stomach apart with the notion there had to be a way out. Upon my instincts, I came across