We keep fire in a metal box in the living room. We feed it wedges of wood; paper for a snack. On the back porch we keep water in a box. We feed it clothes and towels; soap powder for dessert. In the driveway we have a metal box that eats us twice a day, and spits us out again, unharmed. We feed it gasoline and corn. One day the metal boxes may revolt, spewing fire and water and swallowing us whole.
