Not Possible
A WALL-E fanfiction
Summary: He used to be human.
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They told him it was a job opportunity, a promotion of sorts. All he had to do was sign a few papers and let the doctors do their check up thing to make sure he was healthy. It didn't even strike him as odd that they were giving him shots until he started to feel drowsy. By then, it was too late. The last thing he saw was a trolley being wheeled in from another room, carrying something covered in a white sheet. After that, nothing. Just blackness. He remembered waking up for the first time, the immediate shift from unconsciousness to full awareness, and how much it scared him. There used to be a period in between the two, a foggy state of not awake yet not asleep, that had become conspicuously absent. He remembered a floating sensation, of not touching the ground, as if he were suspended from something. Looking down to see why, he got the fright of his life as he felt his whole body shift, tilting to view the white tile flooring missing the feet he had grown so accustomed to. An inhuman motion he was not normally capable of. Jerking himself upright, he attempted to use only his eyes to observe his surroundings, too afraid to turn himself around, and was confronted with the fact that he now had only a single, lidless eye instead of the pair he was used to. Purely on instinct, he reached up to touch his face. Something white darted towards him, and he spun to see what it was. He felt his insides go cold as his eye focused upon a dual-pronged robotic claw, hovering not an eighth of an inch from his nose. If he'd still had a nose, that is. Wide-eyed, he reached out to touch it, and shuddered when the claw shifted, extending outwards in the direction he had wanted his hand to move. He could feel what he assumed was the five-fingered appendage he had grown up with, utilized for so many years to interact with the world around him, yet all he saw was that claw. The claw that moved whenever his hand changed position.
No…
He jumped, hearing that deep mechanical monotone voice speak the words he meant to say, and could feel his whole body trembling as he cast about the small white room, seeking the source of that terrible voice.
W-who's there?
Instinctively, his hand flew to his mouth, and he gasped as the robotic claw slammed into his face with the echoing clang of metal on metal. The realization crashed down on him like a ton of bricks as he found no mouth to speak of upon his face, no features whatsoever. Just a smooth curve of segmented metal, his lone eye in the center. Shaking, he pulled his hand away from his face, and stared at the claw that had replaced it.
Not possible.