This isn't me-I'm not mechanical...
Sometimes, just sometimes, you can't give yourself that extra push to say 'damn it all' and do what's right even though at the moment it feels wrong. I never thought I'd be in such a position again. My life has made itself more complex. Prepare for a shutdown, I will not speak (online) unless spoken to. And even then I'm not sure what will come out. Here's a strange and uncharacteristic thing from me. I present a fragment I wrote before going to bed a few weeks ago. I like it and that's all that matters, so I won't explain myself.
F rA g M eN t
“I’m dying you know.”
Her face was once beautiful now had hard lines that would look perfectly normal on a woman of about 50, but they looked awkward on her 20 something nonsmoker face. Everything about her was pure. She was created that way. The perfect organ donor. A spare parts junk heap in other words. She was a side project I had worked on in secret. With enough funding and the legalization of creating clones for spare parts I had no trouble working on her in my own private lab. She was what I had wanted to create, the only problem was that the clones required a change in their cellular structure to make them age rapidly in order for the parts to be harvested for use with people of the same age. Most people that required parts were in their 30s or 40s, the law restricts the use of clone parts for those of us over 70. Turns out the government really doesn’t want to take care of you when you’re useless. But because I was at the head of my department I’m well aware that certain politicians use the parts under the table to maintain healthy, and to live a little longer. If the price is right the wealthy really can buy more time, cheat death for a few more years. Seeing us throw away the useless bodies after vital parts were taken, as in the heart, or brain. We could make some last longer by taking a whole set of lungs from two bodies, and the stomach and other seemingly vital parts were easily replaced with tubes or machines. If this got too costly they were destroyed and new ones created. The newer ones could be sustained for less money. In the end it was always about money. I was commissioned to create a clone that could replace it’s own vital parts. Somewhat of a true immortal. The only problem was the continuous strain this put on the body the subjects never lasted more than a few hours. I don’t even know if they were conscience of rational thought but for the love of god I hope they weren’t able to comprehend anything. I came to the realization that I was in a bad science fiction and I just needed to expand on the one essence that always stopped my work. Death. I needed to defeat death and assure that it wouldn’t affect my work. A being capable of regenerating it’s own heart would need something to keep it running long enough for the new one to be created. Perhaps two hearts? Three? No, this would create a monster. Or would it? As much as I objected to my idea of a Dr. Who creature with more than one heart to sustain itself I was unable to think of any other ideas. My first attempts created creatures that died almost instantly with the blood flowing through them twice as fast creating instant heart attacks. It was almost ironic. I had to slow the second heart down so that it’s sole purpose was to keep blood flowing after death, the heartbeats had to be even less than those when we sleep. Once I had it figured out it was up to the clone to just live after I gave it life.
“Why is this happening to me? What did you do?”
She recoils from my touch and I have no way to comfort her. Am I supposed to tell her the truth? That she is just an expendable experiment that I had brought to life just for research. That people wanted to kill her and find out what I had done to her since I wasn’t talking. She wouldn’t understand. Even with the downloads I’d given her. It’s much easier to learn things now that they use the brain catch for educational purposes instead of just portable movies.
“Can’t you stop it?”
She backs away from the mirror and I stay where I am. Her fit should be over soon. The only thing I neglected to realize in all my research was the limit to what a brain could handle in terms of time. If she were to go on living she would be only the first of a new society. A civilization where death did not exist. They would replace us and perhaps sweep us under the carpet of time. I can’t even imagine how this new society would function, without the threat of death there’s no reason to live at all. But being made to live is perhaps the worst curse given to someone. A hint from all those vampire stories out there. They watch those they fall in love with age and die. Times change and they must change with them. Could my beautiful creation adapt to these things? Would she even age? I will never know.
“Why?”
She slaps my face and it stings. She collapses in my lap and when her sobs cease as does her breathing I stop myself from stroking her hair. This tragedy was too much for me. I lay her on the bed and drink from the same poisoned drink I had given her. It would take me less time to die but it was enough to light the place on fire. Those bastards wouldn’t be able to study our toasted corpses. I wept in bed, next to my love. This world is too flawed for your perfection.
F rA g M eN t
“I’m dying you know.”
Her face was once beautiful now had hard lines that would look perfectly normal on a woman of about 50, but they looked awkward on her 20 something nonsmoker face. Everything about her was pure. She was created that way. The perfect organ donor. A spare parts junk heap in other words. She was a side project I had worked on in secret. With enough funding and the legalization of creating clones for spare parts I had no trouble working on her in my own private lab. She was what I had wanted to create, the only problem was that the clones required a change in their cellular structure to make them age rapidly in order for the parts to be harvested for use with people of the same age. Most people that required parts were in their 30s or 40s, the law restricts the use of clone parts for those of us over 70. Turns out the government really doesn’t want to take care of you when you’re useless. But because I was at the head of my department I’m well aware that certain politicians use the parts under the table to maintain healthy, and to live a little longer. If the price is right the wealthy really can buy more time, cheat death for a few more years. Seeing us throw away the useless bodies after vital parts were taken, as in the heart, or brain. We could make some last longer by taking a whole set of lungs from two bodies, and the stomach and other seemingly vital parts were easily replaced with tubes or machines. If this got too costly they were destroyed and new ones created. The newer ones could be sustained for less money. In the end it was always about money. I was commissioned to create a clone that could replace it’s own vital parts. Somewhat of a true immortal. The only problem was the continuous strain this put on the body the subjects never lasted more than a few hours. I don’t even know if they were conscience of rational thought but for the love of god I hope they weren’t able to comprehend anything. I came to the realization that I was in a bad science fiction and I just needed to expand on the one essence that always stopped my work. Death. I needed to defeat death and assure that it wouldn’t affect my work. A being capable of regenerating it’s own heart would need something to keep it running long enough for the new one to be created. Perhaps two hearts? Three? No, this would create a monster. Or would it? As much as I objected to my idea of a Dr. Who creature with more than one heart to sustain itself I was unable to think of any other ideas. My first attempts created creatures that died almost instantly with the blood flowing through them twice as fast creating instant heart attacks. It was almost ironic. I had to slow the second heart down so that it’s sole purpose was to keep blood flowing after death, the heartbeats had to be even less than those when we sleep. Once I had it figured out it was up to the clone to just live after I gave it life.
“Why is this happening to me? What did you do?”
She recoils from my touch and I have no way to comfort her. Am I supposed to tell her the truth? That she is just an expendable experiment that I had brought to life just for research. That people wanted to kill her and find out what I had done to her since I wasn’t talking. She wouldn’t understand. Even with the downloads I’d given her. It’s much easier to learn things now that they use the brain catch for educational purposes instead of just portable movies.
“Can’t you stop it?”
She backs away from the mirror and I stay where I am. Her fit should be over soon. The only thing I neglected to realize in all my research was the limit to what a brain could handle in terms of time. If she were to go on living she would be only the first of a new society. A civilization where death did not exist. They would replace us and perhaps sweep us under the carpet of time. I can’t even imagine how this new society would function, without the threat of death there’s no reason to live at all. But being made to live is perhaps the worst curse given to someone. A hint from all those vampire stories out there. They watch those they fall in love with age and die. Times change and they must change with them. Could my beautiful creation adapt to these things? Would she even age? I will never know.
“Why?”
She slaps my face and it stings. She collapses in my lap and when her sobs cease as does her breathing I stop myself from stroking her hair. This tragedy was too much for me. I lay her on the bed and drink from the same poisoned drink I had given her. It would take me less time to die but it was enough to light the place on fire. Those bastards wouldn’t be able to study our toasted corpses. I wept in bed, next to my love. This world is too flawed for your perfection.