Conceptual Speech
They gathered in silence. Not summoned, but remembered.
Not born of stars or blood or breath – but of need, of speed, of the hunger between moments.
First to step forward, a being cloaked in receipt paper and bone dust, eyes made of polished ledgers:
PROFIT.
“I am the echo of want and need masquerading as foresight. You made me king the day you measured what made worth by its weight. I did not ask to multiply. I was asked to protect. You forgot who I was when you made me god.”
Next came one with gears in her lungs and a skyline woven into her dress:
PROGRESS.
“I was meant to be a road, not a race. You poured your future into my veins and called me destiny. I only wanted to walk with you, not pull you apart.”
Behind them shuffled in the smaller ones:
EFFICIENCY, skin like glass;
EXTRACTION, crowned in rust;
CONVENIENCE, faceless, but smiling.
They sat not at a table, but in the hollow of your ribcage.
They did not demand worship, they waited for apology.
One speaks, not as command, but as confession:
“We are not evil. We are amplified intention. You gave us form but no soul, direction but no destination. Now you ask why the river runs dry when the map was drawn in thirst.”
Quiet, be still: a silence that tastes like responsibility.
A breath shared between species.
The beginning of a dialogue – not with enemies, but estranged collaborators.
