Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 169266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
The words don’t make sense. They rattle around in my skull like loose change, refusing to settle into meaning.
“That’s not—that’s impossible. I bleed. I breathe. I feel pain, I—”
For fuck’s sake, I ejaculate. I’ve come more times than I can count.
“You feel what you’re designed to feel.” James sets down his instruments. “And they’ve given you everything you need to keep believing that you’re a human. But your body is synthetic. Engineered to be indistinguishable from human tissue on the surface, but underneath…well, you’re something else entirely. Something manufactured, care of Global Dynamix.”
“No.” I’m shaking my head, pulling my arm away from him, not caring about the incision still gaping open. “No, that’s not right. I have memories. My parents, they weren’t made up, why would anyone make that childhood up? My sister, Emma. I had a sister. She was real. I had a life. I was in the army, I—”
“Nate.” Mia’s voice cuts through my spiral. She’s moved around the table, her hands on my shoulders, her face close to mine. “Nate, listen to me. Breathe.”
“I can’t—I don’t—”
“Breathe.”
I breathe. In and out. In and out. The air fills my lungs—my fake lungs, my manufactured lungs—and I want to scream. I bet I don’t even need to breathe at all. They always told me I could hold my breath for ten minutes and I never pushed it past that, never tried, just accepted. I bet I could hold my breath forever…
No, no, this isn’t happening. This is all a mistake. Maybe they fixed your body too much, but you’re still you. You’re still human.
“The consciousness transfer,” Mia says, looking at her father. “Project Prometheus. Is that what this is? Did they—did they somehow take his consciousness and put it—him—in a synthetic body?”
She said it before she said him…
“It would appear so.” James is watching me with that same sad expression. “The technology is decades beyond anything I’ve seen, but the principle is sound. Transfer a human consciousness into an artificial vessel. Preserve the memories, the personality, the sense of self, while replacing the biological components with something more durable.”
“More controllable,” I say, and my voice sounds dead even to my own ears. “That’s what Julia always said. That I was hers. That she made me.” I look at them. “She meant every word, it wasn’t hyperbole. I was hers, because I belonged to Global Dynamix, because I belong to a company. She made me as a…as a fucking product.”
“She didn’t make you. She made…this.” James gestures at my body. “The vessel that was designed to be exactly the same as your previous body, your real one. And whoever you were before, whoever Nate Whitaker was—those memories are real. That person existed.”
“Existed.” I laugh, and it comes out broken. “Past tense.”
Then I stop, and ice-cold darkness washes over me like sickly tar.
I existed.
Oh god. Oh fucking hell.
“When?” I say, looking at James. “When did they do this to me? When did they—when did I stop…being human?”
James hesitates. “I don’t know. The technology required for this kind of transfer would have taken years to develop. Based on what I know about Global Dynamix’s research timeline, I would estimate—”
“March fifteenth.”
The words come out of me before I realize I’m saying them. Both Mia and James go still.
“What?” Mia asks.
“March fifteenth, 2038.” I can see it now, the memory surfacing from deep within. “They told me it was a routine procedure. Enhancement protocols, they said. One last procedure. I went under and when I woke up, everything felt…different. Sharper. Stronger. I thought it was just the upgrades, but—”
I stop. I’m remembering something else now. The doctor with the mustache. The one who leaned over me just before the anesthesia took hold. The one who said—
“I’m sorry.”
“Nate?” Mia’s grip on my shoulders tightens.
“There was a doctor. Right before the procedure. He looked at me and he said ‘I’m sorry.’ I thought I dreamed it, but—” I press my fingers against my temple, trying to hold myself together. “He was real. And he knew. He knew what they were about to do to me.”
I pause and look at both of them. “They killed me. On that table. They killed me.”
My vision is starting to blur, the room wanting to spin.
“I’m not me.” The realization is a physical thing, a weight crushing my chest. “I’m just—I’m a copy. A fucking copy running on hardware, pretending to be a person.” I shake my head as the horror consumes me. “I’m…dead.”
“No.” Mia’s hands move to my face, forcing me to look at her. Her eyes are fierce, shining with unshed tears. “No, Nate. You are a person. Whatever they did to your body doesn’t change who you are.”
“I’m not human!” I yell at her, the terror pouring out of me. “I’m not a fucking human anymore! I’m dead, they fucking killed me. I died and they…I…”