She was just trying to help and I didn’t want it. Didn’t want her, didn’t want her at all.

Like a circle never wanting to be anything but a circle. Fond of feeling eccentric. Fighting her concentric concern.

Standing in front of the unoccupied McDonald’s counter with an automated kiosk screen behind me — in need of a small cup of coffee — I felt disordered.

She said I had to order from the automated ordering device.

She was there, I could see, to show me how to eliminate her job, how the latest know-how would allow me to not need anyone but me.

I told her I knew how but did not want to.

I told her how I wanted her, how I wanted her to take my order and she kindly said she could not.

But she did it anyway — the new way.

She touched the screen and started. I told her again I knew how. She smiled and touched the next screen; she was just trying to do her job and as she did, I saw her job slipping away and I saw me, next time, just me and the screen. No friendly face or finger to find the end screen where I could tap and pay and go away.

Next time just a self-circle. Then just me and the kiosk — coffeed and alone and then gone.

All I know now is that when I was encircled by her, I felt cared for, loved, and within some holy and unholy presence beyond me.

More than her. More than me. A human sacrificing itself to an inhuman future.

I missed her warm intention as soon as she moved to her next encircling concern.