At the sounding of a whistle,

White-hot, and steaming,

Brassclamps release

A guided missile

From the metal belly

Of the man-eating machine

That marches into impermeable darkness

With motion detecting capabilities

That mean

You can’t outrun him.

You can’t hide.

Best-in-show 5 years in a row

At the Science fair

It’s known to host

For itself alone,

In the newly established

Ruins of Atlanta.

The city still lives.

But there is a “ghost in the machine”,

The Automaton is our modern phantom.

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