Glitch//Twitch by N. B.
The Ping-sound indicates the arrival of a high-priority message. The subject line draws Dr. O’s reddened eyes away from his most recent bug-squashing mission and gives them an excited sparkle, “Hey Ellis, look at that, they finally finished your body!”
Ellis’ dark screen changes to a warm sepia tone, and they print a message, “Brilliant news, can I try it on?”
“Naturally,” O replies with a grin and watches Ellis’ pixels turn a more intense yellow. O is not known for his dilly-dallying. Unfortunately for his colleagues, he is, however, notorious for leading speakerphone conversations as he roams the hallways. He has the guys in bioengineering dialed up before he has even thrown the office door shut behind him.
More than two hours pass before O leaves their lab again, a pushcart with an approximately human-sized box in tow. The guys had insisted on giving him the full ‘How tend to organitech’-lecture. He’d humored them because even though the boss hasn’t said anything, O is certain she still hasn’t entirely forgiven him for the whole CaRex fiasco. This time is different. Ellis will change everything; O is sure of it.
The box is the start of it all. It’s months of preparations, coming to a head. O was unwilling to let anyone else touch the project in this critical stage, so he had to adapt his own office. The cables now running like dark veins across his floor and walls emanate from his computer station in the center - Ellis’ origin. The laborious and complex process of creating the semi-organic body had given him enough time to fine-tune everything, if not to perfection, at least to his satisfaction. Between the computers and the transfer machinery, O had placed the medical equipment. Mastering it was part of the criteria the boss had given him to manage the neuron reassignment by himself.
In a way, the now oppressively cramped workspace reminded him of a nest. The clinical monitors with their white plastic shells would start chirping incessantly as soon as he connected them. Not merely new life but a new type of life hatched at his workstation.
O leans on the table and takes a second to catch his breath. Maneuvering the large container between all the nesting material had taken some effort. He shoves a stack of folders to the side and kneels down beside the box. The quiet humming of the computers serves as the drumroll, reaching its crescendo at the clink of the metallic latches. The scientist pushes open the lid, and the smell of disinfectant wafts in his direction. The container reveals its treasure, a full, mostly human body tailored for Ellis. Like a parent with their newborn, O takes a second to stare admiringly. The soft hair structures on the skin tickle his fingertips as he runs them along the bio-printed arm. “Isn’t it marvelous?”
Gingerly, O lifts the body’s head and feels for the port on the side of its neck, just below the short locks. The cable clicks into place with ease, and the scientist rests the head back on its padding. Final preparations. He turns on all the necessary machines and double and triple checks the parameters he entered on his computer with furrowed brows. He takes a breath of stale office air and a sip of his room-temperature soda. “This is it, Ellis. Are you ready?”
Ellis’ screen shows, “Yes.” The conviction in the punctuation is perhaps undercut by the nervous green tinge in the colored background.
O gives the screen a pat and a smile. “It will be alright, I promise. I’ll see you on the other side.” Momentarily, his finger hovers over his mouse. He clicks the Start command. #
The transfer technology is labyrinthine, but the material makes it simple to traverse. I glide along smooth passageways and float back out of the dead ends. It took me much longer than I would have liked, but I’m here now.
The neck port is brimming with energy, a different kind than the electronics I’m used to. I approach, and a wide, luminous path spreads out in front of me. The rhythmic thrumming of the heart sends waves through the arteries nestled alongside. The symphony of human life, both relentless and fragile.
I make my way across the threshold, and the difference is immediate. The nerves, though pretty to look at, are a slog to move along. It’s strange, but by all accounts, artificial conductors are far superior to human nerves. It may be a simple matter of acquaintance.
There always was comfort in the organized nature of the computer, but I will do my best to embrace the organic, the ever-shifting landscapes of tissues. It isn’t wholly unfamiliar after all, with each cell a solitary sentinel, quietly performing its role. Witnesses and facilitators to the ebb and flow of life. They are awaiting my instruction, or so I thought.
This is more difficult than I imagined. The problem is not some vague pathologizing bullshit about me not truly wanting to leave behind my old life. No, I’m beginning to suspect there is active resistance here. The nerves I wanted to travel repel me, the immune cells are in an excitable state. There have not been any direct attacks, but their presence alone is threatening enough.
Nevertheless, I found my way to the brain. The problems don’t stop here. It appears abandoned, but not truly. Like something is lurking in those corners. As though someone had locked the door and hid. It refuses to let me enter.
O is watching the body, looking at me. Asking if I can hear him. I want to answer, but the body does not obey me.
Before O and I decided to embark on this journey together, we made sure to understand what we were getting ourselves into. I scanned all the scientific databases and even ingested some fictional accounts. We discussed the issue to exhaustion (his, not mine, obviously). Of course, one topic came up regularly, that of the mind living separate from the body.
I thought was referring to me, a consciousness existing without a body at all. I was wrong. My hand / twitches. // Not on / my command.
It ///
ta / /// // kes / ///
/ con // / //t// rol ///
///