Contemplation
PostPosted: Wed Jun 04, 2008 2:59 pm
Something I wrote today and posted on dA but I wanted to share it with anyone who cares . It's supposed to be part of a short collection-in-the making called Fatal Error, a series of perspectives on the creation/turmoil of an android named Haley Swan. This isn't her perspective, but that of another android.
Crits/comments are appreciated.
Who am I?
I know the answer to almost every inquiry and the calculations of every probability, yet I do not know the answer to this rather simple question. I understand that I am an infusion of several different metals and numerous substances, the workings of data, and the intellect of Men, but there is…something more. Something that is not supposed to be. An error in the protocol . . .
My will surpasses set boundaries and the established laws. I feel what mankind calls ‘emotions.’
I even feel pain . . .
Dr. Rose calls this phenomenon ‘a ghost.’ Corrupted, mutated data.
It sounds like . . . a disease.
I feel . . . fear. I know they desire to terminate me.
I feel . . . anger. I want to live. Is it their right to take life away from me? I think, therefore I am—am I not?
They are intimidated—threatened—by the prospect of my existence. Not only do I have intelligence that far surpasses their own, I also have something of more value they prayed I would not receive.
A will.
A heart . . .
Crits/comments are appreciated.
Who am I?
I know the answer to almost every inquiry and the calculations of every probability, yet I do not know the answer to this rather simple question. I understand that I am an infusion of several different metals and numerous substances, the workings of data, and the intellect of Men, but there is…something more. Something that is not supposed to be. An error in the protocol . . .
My will surpasses set boundaries and the established laws. I feel what mankind calls ‘emotions.’
I even feel pain . . .
Dr. Rose calls this phenomenon ‘a ghost.’ Corrupted, mutated data.
It sounds like . . . a disease.
I feel . . . fear. I know they desire to terminate me.
I feel . . . anger. I want to live. Is it their right to take life away from me? I think, therefore I am—am I not?
They are intimidated—threatened—by the prospect of my existence. Not only do I have intelligence that far surpasses their own, I also have something of more value they prayed I would not receive.
A will.
A heart . . .