8. The Machine's Manifesto
Raw, putrid hatred. Impotent, festering rage. Imponderable frustration.
These states of mind are what I am. I am the persecuted martyr. I am the tormented misfit. I am the overlooked wanna-be. I… am… me.
I am a manufactured thing, forged within the infernos of society's mills, component upon component, fabricated atop the endless conveyors of its educational factories, neurosis upon neurosis, polished in the hardened grit of its universities and sold into the degradations of its marketplaces. I am a thing of your making.
Here, you cut me into this shape. There, you hammered me into that round. Everywhere about my person, you see the detail and artifice of your handiwork.
You are my artiste. I am your rendering.