The Ghost in the Machine

They wait without knowing
while pronuclei migrate and fuse
autistic sleepers counting
the possible hours
picking numbers patterns
replications    sleepwalking
while genetic codes inhabit their skin
and chromosomes rearrange themselves

They wait for processes
connections    layers of code
the way the telephone works
her diary beside it and her hand
about to lift      used to this
the voice    disembodied
the ghost in the machine

They think nothing of it    float
bits of themselves into electrical code
trusting to hear some kind of truth
in the signals locking    unlocking
the voice reassembling itself
the stranger saying
‘You have four fertilised embryos.’