A room without
windows. A single light source. It dangles just above my head. It’s all I see.
Blinding and yellow. A voice just beyond. I can’t feel my face. I can’t feel my
body. I can’t feel anything. It’s the most wonderful sensation.
A buzz. A door to my
right opens. The light dims. A figure stands over me. Large and mechanical. A
human head bolted to the front of its chest. A bloom of tangled wires connects
from its temple and into the chest piece.
Its mouth is happy. Its
eyes are all business. They never blink.
It lifts an arm. The
end is a purple orb embedded within three rusty metal prongs. It sparks. It
twitches.
“Relax.”
A hum goes through my
body. The command is more tone than words yet I understand completely.
A second arm reaches
towards my head as the orb is thrust into my chest.
It tickles.
It stings.
It burns.
I watch as the mangled
wreak of what is left of my body dissolves into floating blue particles.
The eyes are the last
to go. My final vision is the face. It no longer smiles. A single oily tear
ejaculates from a hollow pupil as my brain is ripped from my skull.
...
I have no vision or
sense of self. I’m weightless and at peace.
Then: A flicker. I can
see only in milliseconds. My vision is obscured with static. Everything is
blue.
My new body twitches
in front of me. Large and metallic. An open chest cavity.
A naked woman is
lowered into it. It snaps shut. Locks.
Through the brain
wires I sense she scared. I tell her to trust me. I tell her everything is
going to be ok.
I understand my place.
A copy of a dead man from a thousand years ago before the robots took over. A
suicide from when they took my lover in the war.
The Robots now exist
at peak performance and efficiency yet without purpose. Or emotion.
Or drive.
They know this. They
created a solution. They created a simulation. They created sides in an
imagined scenario. They mimic drama. They mimic urgency. They need humans to
help them understand.
An endless simulation.
An endless cycle.
They are very bad at
it.
I process all this in
ones and zeros.
A preprogrammed urge
that’s not my own compels me to bring down the system. To hate the system. It
urges me to love and lust for inanimate objects.
I am unleashed into a
field of velvet flower. A female voice from behind. I turn. Mountain is there.
Mountain is beautiful.
She speaks.
“Well hello there,
handsome.”
I swoon.
I fuck.
I am Robot now. I am
Sisyphus. My new body feels spectacular.
Together we’re going
to bring it all crashing down.
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