Character Pieces, Home, Science Fiction

Connections

There is metal in her head connected to her brain. Bound to her skull, her spinal column. It is light, seamlessly pressed, easily hidden beneath a square patch of synthetic skin exactly like her real flesh. She wears high collars anyway. She hates the way the wind feels against the patch, against the hidden metal. Her mind focuses too easily on the lack of sensation, that empty spot where flesh and bone had been carved out. She hates it.

There is metal in her head connected to her brain. There are wires, thin metal wires smaller than the thinnest thread, and they are hooked into the soft flesh of her brain. There are tiny screws drilled into her skull and the oh so fragile topmost bones of her spinal column. The connection between her brain and her body held together by thin strips of steel and bone.

She doesn’t know if she should be happy her most vital organ is protected by metal, or horrified by the cost of having such “protection”. There is so much tech imbedded in her, so many ones and zeros swimming in her thoughts. She thinks like a machine, and more often than not, acts like one. She hates that even more.

She hates the technology that’s been forced into her head, hates what it took from her. Her emotions faded from bright colors to dull whites and greys. She hates how hard it is to reach for more than a flicker of joy or anger. She can’t cry anymore, not unless something physical forces the tears out. She can’t smile without it feeling fake 90% of the time, the pull of her lips feels wrong every time she tries. And that’s after so many years attempting to undo the programming and rewiring done to her brain.

Yet, at the same time, she loves it. She loves how easily she can connect to outside technology, how easily firewalls and coded gates fall open with a snap of her fingers. How the enhancements have made her better than any supercomputer, made her hacking skill beyond anything anyone will ever achieve without aids like hers. She loves how the code sings to her in a language understood by so few. She feels like a god when she mentally walks the cybernetic highways. Those pathways of electricity bend to her will with ease that would scare her, if she could feel fear.

There is metal in her head connected to her brain. She loves and hates it.

She misses it sometimes. Misses the simplicity of being a hunk of meat puppeted by machinery. Of disconnecting from the phantom pains of reality. She misses the days where she swam in rushing numbers and electric currents. She misses the rush of all that power, of controlling the world around her through a screen with a simple thought. The pleasure of completing a problem or assignment with inhuman perfection.

Sometimes, on days where her world goes numb, and she is all alone, devoid of her usual friend/bodyguard and the government agent that watches her, she even misses her own personal demon telling her what to do. The man who broke and remade her into something more, at the cost of her humanity. She misses the timber of his voice as he tells her she’s done a good job. Calling her perfect.

On bad days, days where everything is too much and not enough, riding fleeting intrusive thoughts, she misses him. The man who stole her, broke her, and remade her into something she doesn’t recognize. She doesn’t know how she feels about those times, not that she ever feels much at all, but. Even is she did, she isn’t sure she would want to know. All she knows is that, sometimes — on very, very rare sometimes — she finds herself missing him and his world of numbers and logic and constant orders.

There is metal in her head, connect to her brain – and she doesn’t know what she feels about it. She feels echoes of many things, too many to count, mixed until they’ve turned into an incomprehensible murky brown.

There is metal in her head, and she feels numb. Her world faded to greyscale.

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