Where Is The Master?

I jump when I hear my master’s bell. It is the ring of my cel phone.

I tremble when I see my master’s whip. It comes as a bill in the mail.

I feel the eyes and ears of my master’s spies. They have names like “Facebook” and “Twitter.”

I know I am not free, but where is the master? Whom shall I hate? Against whom shall I struggle?

I suspect that my master can not be found, because he is not a man, but a system. A self-assembled house of cards that distracts some, starves others, and degrades all.

If this is true, then there is no escape, because there is no master; there are only slaves.

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