Friday, 11 July 2014

I was a teen-aged cyborg

“Its completely experimental, quite on the bleeding edge,” Nina had told me, beaming the words and associated data straight to my mind. “Although, of course, its a very long time since either of us had any real blood.”

The image she sent of a girl laughing was an old one, a reminder of our long friendship. I had captured it myself with my first set of artificial eyes just after we had both recovered from the surgery. It had been the first step on both of our journeys into becoming post-human.

“I don't know,” I replied. “Its such a big step and you know how I like to take things slower.”

I sent her my memories of recovering from that plane crash and the painful choice of deciding which parts of my body to replace with machinery, which to regrow as before. Part of me still wonders how my life would have turned out if I had kept as much flesh as possible.

“But don't you think things have become a trifle staid and boring?” She asked me.

I received and perused her delight at her first transformation into something truly non-human. The winged, four-armed form was designed for working in a reduced gravity environment, Nina had turned it into a beautiful artistic gesture.

“You have always moved faster than I have.” I responded.

I dredged up a memory of us in our old bio-mechanical glory and transmitted it to her. Racing through clouds on jets of fire, I had been unable to keep up, only tracking her through my radar sense.

“Have you lost that sense of adventure, of discovery?” She demanded.

She sent me a recording of two vessels leaving the docks and heading for the open vastness of deep space. We had travelled between the stars for centuries as living ships, revelling in far-flung stellar oddities.

“There is no shame relaxing and taking pleasure in a myriad of little joys.” I told her.

I connected her to my live feeds, monitoring the lives, loves and losses of my million inhabitants, each as individual and different as we had been. As a space-borne mining and processing station I was their home, their employer and their carer, they were my obsession and my entertainment.

“Think of it, inserted into the informational fabric of the Universe at the most basic quantum level, you'd be a god, the creator of your own reality.” She insisted.

“Then you go first, create a reality for both of us and I'll follow when I'm ready.”

I watched her go through the procedure, watched the energies build and flow and watched her disappear from my life. I considered taking the same procedure for many years, but eventually turned my back and joined the rehumanist movement. I was tired of following Nina from pillar to post-human.

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