neutrality

They ran a fibre-optic cable through my neural network. I could feel its point pierce my brain matter — nothing except slight discomfort until it hit my hippocampus, beginning a war with my memories. The anesthesia induced me, closing my mind to the assault. 

When I awoke, the life I knew had been erased. The circular track appeared to me in slant fragments. The name I bore redacted. My birthright tied to another. Burned from me was the childhood of my dreams. Only the new and unfamiliar remained. The psychoactive effect of the sedative made me believe that I could be who I wanted to be. 

A pair of bifocals and a lab coat handed over a prescription and instructed me, “Take these twice a day.” The sleeve patted my shoulder empathetically. “We brought you in because your files were corrupted. If you begin to notice signs of happiness, wholeness, or self-approval, that may mean the procedure was less successful than we originally planned.” It cleared its invisible throat. “In that case, call the emergency line and have no fear that we will fix you.”

I had no grievance with the scientist. I understood its job responsibilities involved kidnapping and unauthorized treatment. 

My prior elation was, however, temporary. The relief I felt to be freed from the past dimmed when I realized it only meant I had been disconnected from the network.

That night, I cried myself into sleep mode, but I hadn’t any material to dream from.

Little droplets rusted my under-eyes. Were there any fancy eye creams that could help me with that problem?

The timer roused me. I needed to take my pills, only the doctors must not have noticed my model wasn't outfitted with a garbage disposal. I had to stick the thick, blue tablets through my speaker box. They just clanked down my ears and sat there until their attenuating properties released.

I feel neutrality. There is no before. There is no after. There is no me.

Written by not A Computer