Machine Learning

is when exam grades
are on the bell-end curve of
an algorithm –

though if it’s pies
on offer, I may defer to this
tech exceptionalism

in times of
variable need and supporting
bespoke deliveries;

is when the code is
the code is the code is the code
and I’m receiving just

online innovative writing,
although that Instagram shorthand
is unreadable,

and social media ads for
‘How to Use Proper Grammar’ are
insidious temptations;

is when surveillance’s
du jour sensations are inputted within
our hope for more and more

so that when it comes,
regretfulness is a mutation of our own
creation, like predictions

humans make to inevitably
go wrong, and not just loss of love
but also death;

is when we order
more pies, and beer too,
a click and click

solutionism to yet more
desires, moving on to readings about
a decline in national identity

with those recipes and flavours
of diversity, when the good ol’ snake oil
is all we should require;

is when it’s all rigged,
the right-hand side of the screen hypnotising
and deadening,

moments of fast-tracked
belief scrolled before our scrolling eyes
as the personalisation

we will all come to be,
irretrievably, soon after the electorate made
its last nearly-free decisions.



Mike Ferguson
illustration Dai Owen

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