A symphony of red lights, dotted across his vision, an army of electronics awaiting to awakened by his touch. He doesn't feel tired, he doesn't feel fatigue at all anymore, but he lies down anyway. He listens to the hum and click of a thousand mechanations functioning.
Hum, click.
No longer totally man, nor is he totally robotic. He addresses what is left of his humanity, 'Dear skin' he tells it 'I miss your totality.'
He sighs, does he hear something rattle where his lungs used to be?
He rubs a single metallic finger over what is left of his face. He sighs again, a priest of technology and anatomy, his sigh is a testament of human advancement. The electronics around him are his faithful church body, but they pay no heed to his sermon of crushing loneliness and throbbing grief.
The android lies in wait of the new day.
