The fugitive looked

out at rain-slapped windows from

his mile high roost.

The polished buildings bathed in 

chromatic advertising.

Blaring sirens crept

up the concrete towers, and

his synthetic ears

identified the danger.

Dark red pooled at his stomach.

Only lived six years,

but he still saw more than the

humans ever could.

He knew that he wasn’t so

different, so did Descartes.

He bled just like them,

and felt the same emotions,

but his flesh and bones

were engineered. His makers

and hunters wanted him gone.

He leapt from his perch

and retired just before

they came to force him.

By Jake Fields, Contributor

Jake Fields is a junior in Meraki publishing, but says writing is more of a hobby. Fields want to work in a biochemistry lab. “This poem was inspired by speculative fiction like “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?” I was really interested in the line between objects and living beings, and I tried to explore that concept in the piece,” Fields says.

Featured Photo by Marc-Olivier Jodoin on Unsplash