Broken machine

[butterflydreaming]

There is a man, cleanly groomed and dressed, standing at the convention center bus stop yelling, "the blood of people!" over and over again with little variation of volume or emphasis. The sound echoes along the street. We pass him, and I see that he is standing rigidly still, facing uphill, as if at attention. He is a broken machine, caught in a subroutine, looping at the same error code.

I wonder if he is inside his body, praying to be able to stop.