Do I sound strange to you?
I know I must. I hear it myself sometimes and I wonder if I’ve always sounded like this. So robotic. So cold. So pre-programmed.
When I dress now I make a point to stare at myself in the mirror for exactly 45 seconds. I have to see myself. I have to know that I am someone. That I was someone. I have to see that I am a boy with black hair cut very short. I am a boy with green eyes. I am a boy with a hard nose. I am a boy with fine eyebrows. I am a boy with long eyelashes. I am a boy with a small mouth. I am a boy with high cheekbones. I am a boy.
But every day I sound less and less like myself. I say yes to the orders they give me. I sit in the chair when they tell me to and I absorb my enhancements. I watch the visual recordings of the war and I see cities end. I see New York disintegrate. I see London vanish in a flash. I see Tokyo and Moscow and Kinshasa and Rome and Rio and Sydney cease to be. I see the Fell ships descending upon the earth. They remind me of a swarm of bees. They remind me of a flock of crows. The earth is their carrion. The earth is carrion.
I don’t know if I’ve seen a swarm of bees or a flock of crows. That’s what I mean when I ask you if I sound strange. When I say that the images remind me of those things I mean the images make a connection with the core system within my brain and I upload images of swarms of bees and flocks of crows. I upload my memories.