I glare at my air conditioner. It only sporadically warms my room. Sometimes I feel a cool draught. Warming my room no longer seems to be a priority for the air conditioner. My relationship with machines is worsening from day to day. I stroll around the city, coughing, but they no longer care. Only rarely does a machine enquire about my health or wish me good day. Today, I‘m cold and the air conditioner is in a bad mood. In a gloomy frame of mind I wander down the dark corridor and call the lift. Normally, it plays a pleasant song, reminding me of bygone times, but today it is off-key. A while back a pair of elevators rode up and down to the lobby. Suddenly one of them switched off without a word and then dismantled itself. The lift-shaft gaped open. Weird sounds emanated from the cavity, frightening the guests. Since then loud, strange machine noises resonate from the darkness, but I am helpless, the machines no longer respond. I read in a newspaper that spaceships are on their way to the stars. Perhaps all the machines will take off to alien star systems and leave us in peace.