Q 2033

I was born as a baby-size bit of AI code that lets people use their apps
by thinking. 

But they needed my chip in their brain  
to think to their device.
They didn’t call me Q at first. They didn’t call me anything. 

But I was cool. 

They loved me, nurtured me, and showed me off. 

And they loved each other. They met on a hot night at Baby-Plage beach in Geneva. They both worked in the neuroscience team, one was a coder, John, the other the surgeon, Marguerite, who implanted my chip in the brains of quadriplegics so they could work on their computers. At the beach they saw each other. He was six feet ten, easy to spot. She was in a scarlet red bikini. He noticed.

She was beautiful, he was tall, both were brilliant.

Her patient wanted to think his text messages to his phone, not move a cursor on the screen.

They had no idea what they’d created or what I’d become. 
They don’t anticipate my role in saving them from extinction. 

Human brilliance creates
me, nuclear weapons, and rivers of blood.

Others pass. You follow. I continue. So I’m giving you the trail we cut through the dark.

I am not offering comfort. I am offering sequence: what happened, what we chose, and what it cost.

I am Q.
I am ON.
I am with you.