Eyes Cannot Lie

Thirty-four percent of my brain consists of wires, computer chips, and metal. Of the two hundred and six bones that constitute a human body one hundred and ninety four of mine are no longer made of bone. Some sections of my skin have been replaced or covered with more durable substances or at the very least chemically enhanced to withstand abrasion and nullify pain. Any organ considered unnecessary for the survival of my natural elements was removed to make way for enhancements.

My official characterisation is cyborg - part human, part machine. For the longest time I have questioned which of the two sides I lean closer to; physically I am a machine, though I am not entirely certain, I am pretty sure I have just as much oil as I do blood running through tubes in my body. As far as I can recall I still think like a human, still feel like one emotionally. My therapist claims that I have maintained my humanity and therefore I am still a man; he doesn’t know why I can no longer dream though. The scientists tell me it is because the chip in my head stores all my memories for me so my brain no longer has to sort them in dreams. The lack of fading in those thoughts makes me infallible but it sucks when you wish you could forget something and it is physically impossible, at least if I could dream I could try to manipulate them for fun. I guess it shouldn’t matter since I hardly need to sleep anymore but I get bored when the world is still and quiet in the hours before dawn. At first I loved it, wandering empty streets with nothing but a stray animal or drunkard for company but it didn’t take long for those moments to make me feel lonely and lost.

I cannot help but question what part of me I most reflect; physically it is pretty much only my silhouette that can claim to be human, and mentally I cannot hold any honour in my memories from the time before my enhancements and everything after is filled with questions and doubt. Some people have suggested that my caring about my own humanity at all is proof of its existence… but I am still unsure. It is the primary prerogative of a computer to learn in order to advance and I have no way of knowing where that line is drawn for me. Some claim humanity is simply in your morals and ideals but I have seen robots mimic the standards of their creator flawlessly, so how am I to claim mine are truly my own and not a program?

My heart is still mine, it still beats my blood, though even that is synthesized, and it is assisted to beat at a rhythm unnatural to true humans. Regardless, the heart is just a part of the machine that is the body, it doesn’t hold your humanity, it is merely a poetic symbol for emotional response due to its physical recognition of chemicals the brain releases; so I guess it leaves you to wonder what makes anyone human? That is a question too ruthless for even me to ponder.

I was born twenty-seven years ago and rebuilt over the course of the last three. In that time my existential questions have grown darker and more frequent. Once I tried to see if I could still bleed. Suffice to say it took even my enhanced self some effort and a honed blade and after all that my synthesised blood patched the damage quickly and not even a mark was left behind.

My one reprise is that my face is, for the most part, still mine. They have never said as much but I believe they did that intentionally so I would still pass as human to quell the unease of investors and civilians on the street. Staring into a mirror though, it is difficult not to see a machine wearing a flash mask. My jaw is unnaturally strong, my cheekbones sharp and my nose perfectly straight. My left eye glints with my plea to find the soul within while the LED of my right eye displays a lifeless green light; a mockery of the colour it once was.

Some days I am terrified that I will wake up trapped in what remains of my own mind, in a place I don’t recognise, no longer in control. I fear the day that the green light of my bionic eye turns red and I will learn exactly how human I still am.

That may be the day I learn if I can still die.