Cold, Cold Steel

Underneath the skin of every human being, there are muscles. Within the muscles there are nerve fibers, blood vessels etc. And if you were to trace these "routes", eventually they lead to two place, the brain and the heart, qualities that make human..well, human.

I remember the Februaries I spent at the Beaverworx machine shop. The cold cold Canadian Februaries - dark and damp. I was surrounded by machines; machines with their own specialties, manipulated under my hands to give rise to a new machine. Pile of steel, scrap metal turned into a structure, a body, minus the a soul. Oh how cold and senseless it was...until the programmer, I, brought it to life.

Keystrokes and clicks, transformed into rise and fall of an electrical pulse that forced strings of codes into the robot's "brain" to make it all but dead. Logic, that's what it had, transferred from the human brain to the machine "brain", of which computes purely on the basis of probability and strict, definite mathematical equations.

With a camera, it sees; with a motor, it moves. With a lines of command in its brain, it functions... while I, was slowly turning into a machine, being no longer controlled by the body chemistry but that pile of cold, cold steel staring at me - like a child I brought to life. I, operate on the rise and fall of an electrical pulse sent from my "brain", striking the keyboards while the distance clock strikes 3AM.

I, no longer feel.