The Dragon of London

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The mechanical embryo hung in the sky like a distant satellite, benevolently contemplating the social computations of the city below. I watched as it grew and evolved before me, its metallic hide glistening in the golden hour of the bright blue sky. As its reptilian form became apparent, it seemed to notice me standing on the rooftop, and uncoiled as it gracefully rippled in slow motion towards me. It wove through the muddle of glass towers, churches and Georgian tenements gracefully, its skin a shimmering landscape of silver panels in enigmatic arrangements. It turned to a woman next to me to ask what it was. "Its the Dragon of London," she said as if I was a tourist. 

The dragon continued to seek me, eventually settling on the rooftop before me and inviting me into its maw. Inside, a woman with red eyes and deep green skin flecked with golden freckles spoke in an ethereal voice. 

"Some years ago Jamie, you wrote something of profound importance to future generations. "Really," I said, thinking of my scribblings on history or psychology or some such. 

"Yes", she said. "It was about some kind of savings account, a - how you say - ISA? We must know more of this thing."

My heart sank as I assumed she was referring to the documentation of a financial services apps I'd worked on a few years. I left the Dragon of London, disappointed.