The Sweat of the Brow (50)

The box is small, but it contains a world.

I see tubes and reservoirs, pumps and purifiers, translucent filters, tiny fans. I see a battery. I see a processor chip. I’m sure there’s plenty I can’t see, because it’s all together in a space no bigger than my two fists together.

I can feel it humming. I can feel it warm as blood. It’s a self-contained little ecosystem. It’s a device for keeping things alive.

It’s a pharm. I’m holding a pharm.

I don’t know what it contains. A bit of skin. A strand of DNA. A sprouted seed. A fertilized egg. A fresh-made plasmid. A virus good or bad. A cure or a disease. I don’t know.

It could be legal. It could be benign. It could be neither. No way for me to know.

I shouldn’t know. It’s none of my business. I’m just the delivery boy.

All I know is that I’ll never get it into the Pipe.

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~ by davekov on 3 September 2012.

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