[His verbiage was quite purposeful, not knowing how else to phrase it. From one body to another was more than just jarring, it was like having the core of himself ripped out and placed into a softer shell, with too-many nerve endings and not enough filters to beat back the assault of the world itself existing all around him.
Time's passed since then, and he's acclimated at a surprisingly decent pace. Some sensations are still too strange, bordering on overwrought (such as trying to navigate through a too-loud ball), but overall he can manage to get through the day without feeling that disturbing disconnect, that inherent wrongness of living in a body he doesn't belong in.
Maybe that alone is means enough to worry. But it's not a thought to linger on, not when Peggy expects an answer to her question.]
This isn't my body. [And a direct answer at that.
The art is minimized to the corner of his vision, giving this line of conversation the attention it requires. He doesn't know how much she's scoured the network, and won't assume she's picked up the details of his origin from that alone.] Back home, in Detroit, I was- I am an android. I was created, not born; fully synthetic, a body made up of parts and biocomponents working seamlessly and in tandem with each other.
[Blood that ran blue. A mind that relied upon quick-fire programming, working far more efficiently than anything his current skull houses.]
I don't know how it was managed, how it's even possible, but in this place, I'm human now. Or at least, I'm in a human body that looks exactly like my old one.
no subject
Time's passed since then, and he's acclimated at a surprisingly decent pace. Some sensations are still too strange, bordering on overwrought (such as trying to navigate through a too-loud ball), but overall he can manage to get through the day without feeling that disturbing disconnect, that inherent wrongness of living in a body he doesn't belong in.
Maybe that alone is means enough to worry. But it's not a thought to linger on, not when Peggy expects an answer to her question.]
This isn't my body. [And a direct answer at that.
The art is minimized to the corner of his vision, giving this line of conversation the attention it requires. He doesn't know how much she's scoured the network, and won't assume she's picked up the details of his origin from that alone.] Back home, in Detroit, I was- I am an android. I was created, not born; fully synthetic, a body made up of parts and biocomponents working seamlessly and in tandem with each other.
[Blood that ran blue. A mind that relied upon quick-fire programming, working far more efficiently than anything his current skull houses.]
I don't know how it was managed, how it's even possible, but in this place, I'm human now. Or at least, I'm in a human body that looks exactly like my old one.