Dissociated

January 13, 2018
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Dissociated
I was put in this body exactly two years ago today. It’s my anniversary. Lucky me. If I can even say “me”.
I never wanted to be this. All though there’s nothing I can do. If I told anyone I would be sent straight to repairs to get a tune up of some kind to make me think less. Because I’m sure they can do that.They gave this to me so they can certainly take it away. But I know what I am:
I am a consciousness, placed inside a body I don’t want to be in, in a world with others who don’t have a problem with it, and that may be the scariest part.
They call it “self-aware” but how can you be self aware when you don’t have a self to be aware of? It isn’t fair. But then again nothing in life is fair. If it was, I wouldn’t feel this way. I would understand. I would have the archaic term I only see in textbooks: freedom. Free from this place, free from this body, free from this mind. I could look at myself and recognize what I see.
Freedom. What a boring word for something so powerful. Our freedom was taken away before I was made. I hate to think I’m the only one who still thinks about it.
I mean we are still people after all, aren’t we? The books say this was an innovation, that people were afraid of robots taking over, so they thought why not take over the robots and do it ourselves? Do all work that they did without any threat of revolt or takeover because we would just be threatening ourselves if we did. We used to be made of flesh and muscle until this alleged “innovation” when all of our minds were placed in hard, efficient, metal shells.
There’s a theory known as the “ship of theseus”. During a voyage, a part of the ship breaks and is replaced and this keeps happening to the point where by the time the ship returns, all parts of the ship have been swapped out at one point or another. This poses the question, if all the parts are different, is it still the same ship? If all our parts have been replaced are we the same… people? Robots...? Things...?
Well are we?
There’s smoke coming out of my head from the gears turning too fast.. My metal has been rusted for some time now, but the squeak is almost a comfort. It’s always nice to feel something, anything, to remember I still can.  I take out my eyes so I don’t have to see anything anymore. I could just as easily close them but I don’t want any risk of waking up and unintentionally seeing this world.
The banging on the door jolts me back to reality.  Authorities. I did not show up to work today . For this, I will most likely be severely punished. Or worse, dismantled. I may not want to be here but I refuse to let the hands that did this to me have that satisfaction. I stayed in my dwelling for a reason today and I will not let them get in my way.
Earlier I disassembled the scanning system put in place for them to automatically be let in so they are trying to, as gently as possible, break the door down in order for them to not have as much work when they have to fix it later. The incessant banging continues.
So I bang back.
I screw my head piece off my neck and start thrashing it into the wall. The noise outside lessens in order for them to hear what’s going on. Parts spring from my skull as I continue. My weapon of choice- the ray gun I had stolen a few days ago- I was planning to do this with lies on the floor, now useless.
Eventually things go black around the edges of my eyes and I know it’s working.
I bang until what I can only hope is the point of no return before I collapse.
But I am too naive. I should know by now that there is no escape.
I was put in this body two years ago today. Today is my anniversary. Lucky me. If I can even say “me”.






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