One in a Trillion

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



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