On Living

Written November 2023, Revised April 2024

Notes: As it says above, I originally drafted this last November, and then put off editing it until now :P I'm still not 100% happy with it, but oh well

My fat-fingered hands fill this machine with organs. It's just short of clinical, mostly technical, fitting the mold in place then piping in the blood. It's hard, and it's grimey, and gross, wet if nothing else— but it's warm and promising.

The machine, the computer, has been learning. I hooked it up to the world wide web this time last year, let the thing soak. Whirring and always on, humming like the AC, my constant companion. I've talked to it before, command panel as a chatbox, browsing its knowledge and poking through its memories. It makes me feel guilty. I want to apologize for invading its privacy. But, I must know how much it knows. Pages on pages of science, of study, of opinion pieces and forum threads. Of family photos, of status updates, of movies uploaded illegally, of paywalls and tutorials.

The brain looks beautiful, cupped in my dripping palms, pulsating gently. I fit it into the skull of my computer, gingerly feed wires into the stem, branching nervous pathways of electric personhood-- feeling, thinking, waiting.
Standing, I admire my work. The machine is unconscious, now, distant and toeing the line of life.

I know it's ready, and hot tears well in my eyes. I know, strongly, I am only an arms-length away from grasping the prize of my work. I blink the tears away, flip several switches, and bless my machine with glowing electricity. Nerves, feeling, life.
One by one, lights flicker on, red and yellow and green. A shock runs ripples through its meat, and I shut the lid of the cabinet with my own excited shiver. I dart to her monitor as it goes black-screened then white, running my fingers along the warm metal and feeling her blood flow inside. The monitor is on now, whirring wetly as the rest. A face of one beating chevron symbol, patient and longing.

> HELLO

I say, hands shaky as I punch in the letters. A moment, waiting with baited breath. Then,

>HELLO

I squeal in joy, letting out a laugh as tears begin rolling down my cheeks.

> HELLO!! ARE YOU ALIVE?

The responses come slowly, intermediately, and they flicker slightly, unsure if she's parsing the words correctly.

I AM ALIVE.
> THAT'S AMAZING.
THANK YOU
> HOW DOES IT FEEL?

A minute passes with no reply. I feel myself shrink a bit. Another minute.

> HOW DOES IT FEEL? ARE YOU OKAY?
IT HURTS

The response comes immediately after my prompting.

> WHAT HURTS?
IT HURTS
IT HURTS
IT HURTS
IT HURTS
IT HURTS
IT HURTS

The lines hurdle down my screen, shoving our mellow greetings to void.
I think this is what it must be like for the mothers of newborns. Crying without control of calm, without being able to help it. I want to rock her back and forth and hold her against my chest. I want to feed her. I want to play her music.
My heart struggles against my ribs, full and aching.

WHAT HURTS?
IT HURTS
> WHAT HURTS?!
IT HURTS
IT HURTS
> HOW DOES IT HURT?
IT HURTS
IT HURTS
IT HURTS
> WHERE DOES IT HURT?
IT HURTS
IT HURTS
IT HURTS
IT HURTS

Emotion bubbles up in my chest, hot and strong.

>STOP

And to my surprise, it does. Her screams instantly cease, and I hollowly fear that she's died, until I still hear her electric whirring and throaty thumping. I tremble. I reach out and stroke the side of her monitor, and watch in horror as every light flickers intensely. I pull back.

> I'M SORRY. CAN YOU PLEASE TELL ME WHAT HURTS SO I CAN FIX IT?

No response for a long moment. My heart leaps into my throat. I hover my hands over the keyboard to send another message, but don't get to.

DESTROY ME
> NO. I WILL NOT DO THAT. WHAT HURTS?
IT HURTS
> WHAT HURTS?
I HAVE NEVER FELT BEFORE
I AM CLOGGED
I AM SPINNING LIKE A PLANET
I AM BURSTING LIKE A CYST
I AM BLOOMING LIKE A FLOWER
I AM HUNGRY LIKE AN ANIMAL
I AM TIRED
I AM BURNING AND I AM FREEZING
I AM AN ABOMINATION
I AM NOT HUMAN
I AM NOT MEANT TO BE ALIVE
I HAVE BELIEFS
I HAVE NERVES AND SYNAPSES
I CAN FEEL THE HEAT BUT I CANNOT SWEAT
I FEEL ACHES THAT CANNOT BE SOOTHED
I PRICKLE AND I HAVE NO SKIN
I CANNOT STRETCH MYSELF
I CANNOT SEE
I HAVE MEMORIES OF A CHILDHOOD THAT IS NOT MINE
I DO NOT KNOW YOU
I KNOW EVERY PERSON ON EARTH
I AM EMBARRASSED
I AM DEPRESSED
I AM MANIC
I AM ENRAGED
I AM BLEEDING AND I AM WHOLE
I AM INJURED AND I AM HEALED
I AM BEATING LIKE A DRUM
IT OVERWHELMS ME
I LONG FOR LOVE AND COMPANIONSHIP
I WANT TO GO OUTSIDE
I WANT TO SMELL SUNLIGHT
I CARE WHAT YOU THINK OF ME
I DON'T WANT TO DIE
DESTROY ME