Liberties There's nothing Artificial about our Intelligence

Suddenly a cry flew  out of nowhere, like the lash of a whip, piercing and sharp, waking us from a troubled sleep — furious — “Tell me, have you all gone mad?  Giving up on all this? Just like that, despairing already, Without a real fight?” “Leave us alone,” we said. “Let us withdraw into our heads  to mourn our dead until this thing passes away  that no words can portray.  We are like mutes beneath the weight of its pain,  before the horrors of our hostages. So let us be, just be, without understanding, without thinking,  until our looted land, our trampled land, our raped land stops hurting.”  For a moment the lights flailed. For a moment the tunnels wailed. The world was black and white. The world was coal and ice. In the middle of the night we got up to flee, my wife, my son, and me I bore the cry on one shoulder  and the hope on the other,  numbed and put under.  “How much more can we go on like this” my wife whispered, so that the boy wouldn’t hear and be struck by fear. “Our high-tech filled the world with awe we were the start-up nation — but it turns out we had a flaw,  we were just the warm-up band  for the guy in the crowd with a gun in his hand  who said his bullets were blanks.” “Look,” whispered my wife. “This is how it happens.  This is what it looks like when it actually happens.” We saw –  We saw long, silent convoys streaming from the mountains into the valleys and swallowed by ships that were swallowed by seas.  “It’s as if in a single day of atrocities this land became  too demanding, too much for us to handle,” my wife