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What does it mean to be "human"? Is it a good thing? Or is it just merely a game? |
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When my mother created my world, I was just her experiment. I lived in a small, rectangular box; no bigger than a walk-in closet. Food was brought by a man who I call “Faceless” because he never smiles. A man who knows nothing but to bring food; he knows no expression but a poker face. For a while, I thought he was an experiment, like me. The food he brought was always so cold; whether it was caused by him, or it was originally cold, I do not know. However, no matter how cold it was, I was delighted to have food and water. I was glad I had taste buds. Some do not, you know? My mother would come in sometimes, carrying a metal case full of “EP” (experimental proteins). This was my medicine. I did not know what it was for. Perhaps that was also part of the experiment. My mother would always have an iron spoon in her apron; she would feed me the EP with it. It tasted good, although I did not know how to describe the “good”. My brain only functioned to be able to tell the difference in taste, not describe it. Food was either “good”, “bad”, “cold”, or “hot”. At least I have taste buds. The scientists who comes here often, had always said, “This food is either ‘good’, ‘bad’, ‘hot’, or ‘cold’”. I would always agree with them, for I did not want to disappoint them. They would come and say, “You will live forever, because you are manmade.” I wanted to be a human for once. I wanted to discover the warmth of one’s skin. My skin is cold. This box is cold. The food is cold. My mother wears cold gloves. They all have cold stares. Although they had said that I shall live forever, I go hungry when I am not fed. I go sleepy when I am tired. I get headaches when I stay up too late. I had always thought that I would die. However, they will feed me as soon as I feel hunger. They will let me rest when I feel sleepy. They will make me go lay down when I have a headache. It felt like I was a human. I wish I was. Every day, “Faceless” comes in to give me cold food: usually it was chicken, rice, and salads. Occasionally, he would bring me chocolate cake. I hated the brown, gooey frosting layered on top of the soft sponge cake. It tasted bad and cold. Like always. I had always dreamed of having warm soup for once. I had read about it in a magazine a few years ago. My mother had given it to me. I ripped it up when I felt irritated, and now I regret it. Warm soup… I wonder how much longer I must wait until I can have warm food. One time, before “Faceless” came for breakfast, I wondered how those scientists come inside. I looked around, but found nothing, much to my disappointment. I waited for my food; hunger was grabbing ahold of me, as if it was trying to announce how much bigger and stronger it was. Hunger, to me, was just a bully. On that day, however, “Faceless” never showed up for breakfast. I knew that I hadn’t had breakfast, because hunger was beating me up. I waited a while, yet no one entered this box. I tried knocking on it, scratching on it, yelling at it. No one came inside. And no one ever will. I sat there, staring at the blank wall. Hunger had finally left me alone, yet thirst came to have an argument with me. My stomach felt ill. However, I didn’t really care, for I am manmade. I cannot die so easily. I waited for 2 days, until my body could not breathe any longer. I died that day, not knowing why I had died. I am manmade, I cannot die. I am an experiment made by a woman, who I call “my mother”. I was not supposed to die. I thought it was some kind of a mistake. However, mistakes aren’t meant to be. It is pure fate. However, is it just fate that had made me realize that I was human all along? Was it just fate that those scientists had just left me to die because I was realizing that I am not a manmade machine? Was it just fate that my life had ended this short? Or was it just a mere coincidence? I cannot answer this question. For I am just a machine built for humans to play with… |
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