Lost in a blue wood

The blue is a mood. The woods are their greenest at this time of year. Its raining now. The plants drinking their fill of this freshest of water. I too collect rain. Two barrels hold between them a hundred gallons. Today’s sprinkle will top them off. We pull water from underground for domestic use. The

Oh, do I have to!

Yes, you have to. Even if I don’t feel like it? Yes, even then. That’s my dialog with the interface here. It must know I don’t have anything to say. It watches my keystrokes and measures the milliseconds between. It has complex algorithms to fathom my mood and productivity. The basis of the Matrix dystopian