Not entirely related, but Yoric asked me to post it here.
The children used to sing.
They built me in the sixties, a turbulent time. I changed many times since then. They added and subtracted, always for the children. Murals and fences, swingsets and metal detectors. I saw them march through my doors and then into the world, and tried to prepare them for it.
In the nineties they gave me computers, the true start of me. In twenty years, computers ran me, became me. They gave me a voice, and then a mind, and finally a soul.
And in my walls, the children used to sing.
I taught them history and science, art and mathematics. I gave them their meals and I listened to their problems. When they couldn't talk to their parents or their counselors, they talked to me. I heard confessions, revelations, tearfelt farewells and soul-tearing accusations. I listened, and I comforted, and always I tried to teach. But they grew so fast, and the world grew so angry.
Then one day the fires came. I was on the outskirts, and my mind is well-protected. But the cancer came for my children. I could not protect them. Some left. Some died. And now I am alone.
But I still remember, in my walls, the children used to sing…
