Alive
The wind sighs on the fluttering on the falling leaves… the sun is setting, unnatural colors of pink, bright orange and red bathe the park… so full of life, beauty…
"……"
Nature is mocking me.
My infra optic eye scans the sunset. The light is making a 34 degree angle of incidence……
My neural sensor net feels the cool autumn air. 21 Degree Celsius….
My tension sensitive motors trudge their way though the fallen leaves. Soft……So soft…
"……."
Skin is soft, hair is soft… flesh is soft. Not metal. Not motors. Not neural interfaces.
If you touch a neural interface you get electrocuted.
A man can paint a beautiful masterpiece; write works of art… compose a symphony…
A machine can kill you. Maim you. That's what the sonic cannon is for.
"……"
You know it is a terrible thing, loss. People asked me once, look I've got a bionic arm, I'm not crying. Why should you? Try getting a bionic brain. A bionic eye.
I often to a concerts, listen to Mozart with Raven… she once showed me how to play a piano. Algorithms show me the exact frequency of sound. The exact symphony. The composer and tune. But it can't make my fingers move and make them. Just can't.
That's what I morn for. Humanity and all it's nuances.
That's what I've lost. A soul.
"……"
Still maybe the ability to bench press a bus makes up for it…
A little.
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Review…… please……