• morrowind@lemmy.ml
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    8 months ago

    Dearest birthing parent of mine, this timepiece responds not to my attempts at manipulation

    • androogee (they/she)@midwest.social
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      8 months ago

      To whom it may concern (the progenitor of my very existence):

      The clockwork temporal measurement device strapped 'pon the writhing fleshy tentacle protruding from mine own thorax remains sullen and unchanging despite my best efforts at provocation.

      Please advise.

      • drolex@sopuli.xyz
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        8 months ago

        O dear original source of half of my genetic material, including the differentiating heterotypical chromosome!

        Despite my many attempts at interacting through my somatosensory system with what looked like a haptic receptor of a timekeeping mechanism attached to my sinestro-anterior limb, the visual indicator of the aforementioned radiocarpal joint-mounted machine keeping track of the flow of hours, minutes and seconds (important: please note only the latter is a SI unit) remains devoid of any hint of a reactive process consequential to my stimulus.

        What the fuck.

        • breakcore@discuss.tchncs.de
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          8 months ago
          Brought forth, my mind, my spirit, conscience and flesh and all
          Into this universe, by merit of affections made by thee
          As forebearer, Zeus as to Hephaestus, as you to me
          Echoing ancestral age's call
          
          From infant times, whenst could I not procure my own
          Through learning and advancing in my worth
          You held me high, and pushed me forth
          By song affirmative in words and tone
          
          This trust of merits, my esteem, oft besong by you
          Make these words, this moment, this request
          Become the heaviest of my behest
          Albeit an inquire I can not undo
          
          Upon my arm, as equator round our very earth
          Is bound with leather strap, and nimble lock
          A dream of time, of days, of tick and tock
          Of life, it's passage, to the grave from birth
          
          A timepiece, chroniker, a metronome, a watch
          In and of itself a wondrous thing
          And as I watch it circumnavigate it's ring
          I have but a single question, single catch
          
          When on it's surface, with extended digits laid
          With tap, with stroke, with haste, with patience and between
          Expected outcome of my action, none are seen
          And of my merits, now am I afraid
          
          I humbly ask of you, my genesis, my kin
          Am I the one who know not how to utilize
          This measurer of time, this timeless prize
          Am I unknown to functions laid within
          
          No prodding, poking, touch or stroke
          Have rendered changes visually
          And therefore I conclude I now can see
          The functions I can not provoke
          
          I utter loudly "what the fuck"
          Have you equipped it with parental lock?