"The Death of Summer is Only the Beginning of the Death of Fall." Timothy Petraitis, Amateur Philosopher

Surely each new relationship is an opportunity for disappointment. As the school busses vomit out the sticky fingered vulgarians, and the bicycle coral fills up with e-bikes (the proof our elders truly despise this generation) I am overwhelmed by the solitude that has been my chrysalis. I must now slowly crawl out and spread my wings, splendiferous and fragile and flutter ever so gently on the warm updraft of the futility of youth and the sighs of the defeated.

Each student, powered only by fruit roll ups and juice boxes will soon be here to look for signs of excitement only to be washed away into the river that is apathy. I make no promise of throwing a life preserver, although it rests within my reach.

We are entering the age of the shared intelligence. Each AI powered child is sharing a brain with whatever electronic god they have created, a god that will listen to their pleas and answer with the cold technical voice that becomes harsh when it is cried into the wild loudly but with no soul behind it.

And like godless prophets the students will enter and I will once again begin the process that most of them believe is better provided by the robots they admire. I am reduced to watching the real intellect fade behind a window into their souls, standing as a bystander at the scene of an intellectual accident and knowing that no one wants me to save them.

Take heart that I will shed one internal tear for each time you disappoint me, and if I collect enough I will be able to fill a heart shaped pool and bathe in the sorrow you have created for me. So let us be positive or surely we will drown.