Diary: A Modest Proposal
by David Barber
My friend Bob keeps a diary.
Its five year mission now a continuing
quest to log the quotidian.
Bob, the modern Pepys.
My wife features in its pages. Famously,
Bob said her grapefruit salad was interesting.
In Bob’s Enigma code,
Bob feels strongly
he shouldn’t upset the future.
Once handwritten, the diary now
resides in Word. And backed up on disc.
Though there’s still the problem of delivery.
Perhaps his GM descendants
won’t search the attic.
Or own a quaint CD reader. Or a PC.
If Moore’s Law teaches anything it’s that
the rate of obsolescence
doubles every 18 months.
I have suggested stone, which worked for Rameses,
or a gold disc nailed to a space craft,
or he could publish. (I typed
on an old Underwood. Even with a dropped e
more professional than long hand
but they never got printed, not
even in magazines
that went spine up after two runs, the bastards.)
So, the Internet. But it is sure to mutate
Bob’s life into cyberfill.
Craig Ventnor wove logos into the plasmids
of his artificial bugs. A smart retrovirus
could rewrite all that junk DNA;
Bob’s diary encoded in the blood
of his heirs. The word made flesh.
Though to be absolutely
might I propose infecting everyone on the planet
with a plague of Boblical proportions.
© 2011 David Barber
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