Wireless Connection

Wireless Connection

By Wayne Campbell

If I had a heart right now I'm sure I'd be having a heart attack. My first art gallery is within an hour. It's only the beginning for my career. I look up at the night sky, I see a few stars through the light pollution and clouds. I notice my left hand fidgeting on my leg and I stop it. So this is what pressure feels like? Everyone said it was going to be a good thing when we'd be able to choose our own way in life. 'We won't have to serve them anymore.' they said. 'Free to choose your own path.' They claimed. I hear my phone and open to see my roommate Felix calling.

"Hello?" I ask Felix.

"I'm here, where are you?" He asks back.

"I'm in the back. Getting my thoughts together." I tell him. "Before you ask, the fitting went great. Got the new face and body, it's a lot better than the last one."

"Can I come see?" He asks. I take a deep breath at my left hand resting on the metal table in front of me, it looks real. Maybe it'll take my mind off of the event.

"Sure." He hangs up and after a minute of me tapping my fingers on the metallic grate of the table and me wishing I could know what it feels against my 'skin,' then I think how stupid that is. I'm not a person and I need to accept that. I'll never be able to change that. There's nothing wrong with being a machine. I relax myself and place my phone on the table. I can hear a slight breeze around me and wish I could feel it. Nothing wrong with being wishful, it makes me who I am.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Felix says walking towards the table. He quickly sits next to me. "Wow, you look great! So life like!" He tells me, I look into his eyes. No color, No pupil, just white. "How do they make your hair look so oily?" He asks.

"I have to put this special gel in it." I answer.

"Well the color is great, Black goes good with everything." he says with a smile. "But I don't have to tell you that. I knew your face was going to be a work of art. Your gallery is going to sell out."

"Then what?" I ask. "Yeah I'm free to sell my art and keep the money for myself but... What am I going to do after that?" I tell him. I can see the melancholy in what little features he has.

"Art, take it one day at a time. You have the freedom now to choose. Just take it one step at a time, focus on selling your art tonight and take the next step tomorrow. Whatever it may be, I can't wait for you to see my face tomorrow." Heh, now I feel like a jerk. I should be excited for him. Tomorrow he'll be able to walk around like me and not feel judged. The whole day I've felt great and normal. Nobody called me 'Tool' for the first time while I was outside. I felt like everything was going to be okay for the first time since I could think about it.

"I can't wait to see it man." I pat him on the shoulder with a smile. He comments on how life like my smile is, and asks me if I need to brush them. Which, yes I do. He starts asking me about my skin. No I don't need to shave it, but yes I can get a tan. He comments on the moonlight bouncing off my skin as well. He asks me why I got stubble, and why I chose blue eyes. I can see his excitement and enthusiasm. Up until now we've gotten looks when we walk down the street.

People would sneer and gawk as we passed them. A couple of times some little jackass would throw something at one of us. Religious people would call us 'tools' and 'codes' and say we didn't have souls. That may be true but I still have wants and fears. I think for myself and just like living people I... don't really know what I'm doing. I may not be on a timetable like them but I feel like it doesn't really make a difference. I could be here for 80 years, or I could be here for 800 years. It doesn't change a thing, nothing lasts forever. We talk for a little bit longer before he goes home. I take a few more moments before going in. I take a few steps inside before the gallery owner flags me down. She doesn't look too pleased as she takes quick short strides towards me.