He's a wretch andnLike all the rest he thinksnThere's time to make troublenAnd time to make a messnHe saysnPunch in, automate,nstomp on, stomp outnMechanized and traumatizednHe's tapping things obsessively.nnFinds his boss's officenAnd tears it apartnTorches the evidencenQuits his jobnnVoltage highwaysnCurrents moving constantlynBLissed out and circuit bentnHe's summoned by his majestynnAnxious electricnTaps into the registry;nA challenge to the monolith,nThe obelisk is posturing.nnSleeping monsters risen(Manichaean disguise)nRansacks Junktown.nnGlass-eyed ogrenBuilds himself and armory;nLives like a hammern(A vulgar diplomacy)nnA new kind of prophetnTyrannynTraumanA new aristocracynnFinds every flaw in the eyes of his enemiesnWages war and flies his flagnPrelude to the coming ofnA new machine metropolis.