The thing, once known as Mac Sfortunato, 3d-printed some yellow daisies, his wife’s favorite, and escaped the lab.
The sound as he walks is like two hollow metal drums being beat with a stick.
Donk, donk, donk, donk.
People gape, but he ignores them.
With each footstep, he wonders why metal. It could have been nanocarbon-filament woven into a skeletal lattice with the fiberoptic and pneumatic cables laced through like veins and arteries. A 3d printed vinyl covering and some soft pillowy muscles and he’d be passable.
It matters because he’s not a deadman whose memories, feelings, and desires were downloaded from a dying brain and uploaded into a cybertronic-Neuromodulator.
Dead men don’t have thoughts of their his wife that get them all tangled up inside.
Mac does and the sensation reminds him of love, or the jittery never-satisfying-thing he always felt around Diania.
At her door, he depresses the announcer and waits.
The door slides open revealing a man.
A man in his robe.
“Who is it darling,” Diania’s voice calls from deeper inside.
“A delivery drone, I guess.”
The interloper takes the daisies and the door closes while Mac feels his modulator knot in another way.
Art by: Luca Oleastri