Steve looked down at his new hand and sighed. It had taken at least a measure of work to get it on but now it hesitated whenever he sought to open a can or to even take hold of a mug of coffee. Each time the feedback grew worse as the fiddly bit on the end of the finger grew long and twitchy as he grew into the skin. He knew this:
If he went through with the whole op he would be the first to know what it is like to have a fully functional artificial grip on himself through the aid of his prosthetic robust recoilless hand. He could almost make out the new name on the sleeve of his shirt made out of pins where they had offered to tattoo his own name for his selfworth but no, he decided to keep it, the old one seemed too infinitely open to abuse that he enjoyed it and the feeling. If someone wanted to know his name he would indicate with his hand and say: “I’m Rod.” Whereas everyone else knew he was actually Bioman from the novel where they all knew it was a time and a place for love and mighty-fought battles of will.
The end of the soliloquy is this. If it is in the end about the need for a robotic prosthesis to open one’s eyes to the future, then it wasn’t going to be long before it was the rest of him too. He was not going to be the one who did it but he was going to be the who served the future the best and so deserved it.
Copyright 2016 Bruce E Saunders