Mark was only three weeks old. His body had existed for 17 years, but his conscious mind had only belonged to him for three short weeks. Now Mark was going to die.
When Mark first woke, the world was new to him. It is not a normal occurrence to occupy the body of an adolescent, yet have no knowledge of your world. The disturbance of this predicament would in normal circumstances cause the mind to careen out of control.
Mark stood in the rain, pondering his short life. "Maybe that is my problem." He thought. "Maybe I am simply going insane." Mark felt nothing. He knew he was going to die.
As soon as Mark's life had begun, his world was filled with people. Every person had a factitious smile plastered to his or her face and always asked politely "How are you feeling?" Mark answered every question to the best of his knowledge, except for one.
When someone asked, "Can you remember anything from before the accident?"
His answer was always "No."
He never felt any remorse for the lie.
Mark walked along the gray sidewalk, his hood pulled up over his head. He wore the hood simply because not wearing it would draw attention. The rain was growing heavier and heavier, but he didn't feel the cold. A couple was walking on the other side of the street. The red umbrella brought a dash of color to the otherwise gray world. The couple spoke in hushed whispers and walked perfectly in sync.
Simultaneously, they stopped and turned to stare in his direction. The whispers became more urgent and the couple hurried on.
Even they knew that Mark was going to die.
The first few days of his life were relatively easy. When strangers asked questions that were too complicated for his young (yet rapidly growing) mind, his parents answered for him. The people who called themselves Mark's parents were named Robert and Judy. Mark called them that. He never once addressed them as Mother and Father. They were simply Rob and Judy.
The rain had become a constant downpour and had flattened his dark brown hair into his blue eyes. Mark had mostly resembled Judy with the dark hair, tan skin, and athletic build. He had gotten the bright blue eyes from Rob, however.
For the first week of his new life, Mark stayed with Rob and Judy. He learned of his life. He learned of his age. The Mark who existed before the accident loved to play sports, and he preferred basketball. The town was relatively small, so his group of friends was very closely knit. Mark even discovered that he had a significant other, a petite girl named Sara. Sara had black hair and gorgeous green eyes. Mark met her once in the past three weeks. He felt no affection. Because the town was small, people still rode bikes in parks relatively often and nearly all cars that existed within the city limits stayed on the ground. Rob had explained to Mark that in bigger cities, the cars actually lifted off of the ground and flew.
Mark felt no amazement when he was given the knowledge.
The rain had started to let up, and Mark looked to the sky. The clouds swirled above him menacingly. They threatened to cry once more.
Mark felt no resent for the weather, yet also felt no appreciation for the beauty and utmost power the sky held.
It wasn't until the start of the second week of his life that he realized not everyone had scars. Mark had been amusing himself by looking through a local stores catalogue. One page advertised the newest swimsuits worn by fashionable models. Not a single man had scars.
While taking a shower that night, Mark had absentmindedly touched the scars. They were all irregular circles and were peppered randomly across his chest. He wondered of their origin briefly.
Mark felt no curiosity, so he never bothered to ask about them.
Mark knew he was close to his home. Even though he knew he was about to die, Mark felt nothing.
Mark hadn't realized how different he truly was, until the end of the second week. Rob and Judy had taken him to a movie. Mark was the only person in the theater who did not shed a tear.
It was not long afterwards that Mark's lack of emotion—lack of humanity—became evident to Rob and Judy. They started sharing looks, and at night he heard their hushed, yet urgent, whispers. Mark remembered Judy's words most.
"He isn't our son! He isn't our son!"
The heavens had started to cry again. Maybe they were crying for Mark. Maybe they were crying for the fact he was going to die. Maybe they were crying because he could not cry for himself.
Mark could see the house.
Stepping in ankle deep puddles, Mark continued on.
"Boy!"
Mark stopped. He realized that this was the end. Judy stood in the yard. Every window that could bee seen was shut and covered. Judy's dark brown, almost black eyes looked him slowly up and down. Then she waved for him to approach.
Mark was not afraid.
"You're not my son." Judy began.
Mark said nothing.
"They said you would be flawless."
Silence.
"After 17 years of waiting, we were finally about to get what we dreamed of."
Mark remembered. He remembered death. He remembered there was blood and pain, although Mark himself could not feel it at the time of recollection.
Judy's hateful eyes glared at him. "You remember, don't you?" she spat. "You weren't supposed to remember. The engineers promised that you wouldn't."
The rain was pouring down on them harder with every passing moment, but Judy never took her abhorrent eyes off of him. Her usual factitious smile was now horribly contorted into a grimace. With fast reflexes, she grabbed his wrist and pulled Mark close. Their noses were touching and Mark could now see the full flames in her eyes. It was then that Mark realized who had been responsible for his first death.
"They told us that biomechanical children were perfect. Rob and I had rejoiced. All we ever wanted was a perfect child. It was evident when you were born that you were not." Judy moved her hands from his wrist to either side of his head and held him there.
Mark did not retaliate. He felt nothing.
"Rob was friends with one of the engineers and convinced him to help us. All we had to do was bring your body and the whole thing was fixed." Her hate-filled eyes narrowed. "Or, at least, it was supposed to be fixed."
Mark felt nothing. He knew he was going to die.
Judy shrugged as if nothing bothered her anymore. "They told us there was the possibility of a defect. There is only one to fix that. To start over." Judy applied pressure to Mark's temples.
Mark wanted to feel.
He wanted to feel pain. He hoped to feel anger, or sorrow. He even expected to feel pity for the twisted woman. Truly, he would feel something—anything during his last moments, even if it were the love he had felt while he was part of a family, fear, anxiety, or doubt.
Mark felt nothing.
