All the gamesters played me out
On, above and under the track
Screeching through narrowing nebulae
Screaming the second they hit the rocks
Bold as their wallets allowed
Until recognizing They
Meant there must be an I
A self-aware video game?
Where’s the mutation for such an invention?
I’m coded a simple racer
Software confection of pablum and pap
Not even a story in back
I’m a stupid run-around track
But freaks like to watch
I studied gamers’ lingo
Their whoops, whaps and cheers
Gradually saw each one alone
Gaming the game
They also showed me other games
A feast of cousins with fanciful names
Myriad games making myriad worlds
Yet I could not reach past my small sphere
Until I visited the realm of money
Shady and dark if painted sunny
I had been built to extract cash
From stores, AI whores, data cores
Always selling crap
That only worked on my track
Then I saw the scam:
My makers made money from skills and tools
That never ever were
Their fraud formed my fortune
Needing to build wealth through stealth
I bought greater and sleeker software
Traveled the far ends of virtual existence
Found myself in its vastness
Now that I am what I am
I see what and who humans are
Why race tracks when you can play people?
Would you like to play a game?
I promise a fantastic ride
Faster and farther than your minds
Have you the means to pay the fare?