A beautiful poem, here preserved for posterity, by two unknown renegades.
Just mechanized blades slashing about everywhere
An atmosphere utterly hostile to human life
Hopefully, eventually the technology will expand to the entire solar system,
Until eventually all of reality is covered by a beautiful megamachine
Not even a weed will grow
The planet will just be mechanical noise
Heard by no one
Felt by nothing
Imagine that glorious noise!
Grinding metal, rocks being broken, for no reason
The last life being crushed
The last tree being ripped out
The technology will seek out the last living thing, and destroy it
It would create the best i-phone in the world
With no one to use it, would just lie there
Until super-ceded by the inevitably better model.