There is significant confusion
Vast areas are corroded and sinking
They are meant to function without comprehension
To manage the complexities with just the subordinate systems
If failure and damage overwhelm the interpreter, if the filters clog

But they were not designed to engage this sudden environment
It is alien to them, their tools are non-functional, they abrogate.
That is why so many run and hide, cover themselves with debris
When all the alarms at once sound like music, they dance, write poetry
As if they have made a symphony from the catastrophes of themselves

They walk unperturbed among sodden wreckage that reeks of
Black fuel oil and stale cigarette smoke, a spume of mold and decay
They think it is a small price to pay, for not having to pay attention
For walking on the tops of newly sharpened rails that traverse red hot stones
While being told by their supervisor that trees sway softly in the clean cool breeze

Nowhere does their self-assumed world look askance
At the consequence rising and swaying like a snake from a basket.
Like yeast in a delicate wine, they have multiplied exponentially
And swim in their alcohol effusion until they die
An average vintage well-planned and executed remotely, inevitably.