Reboot: to start again after stopping
The silence woke him up. Not the kind of silence one would appreciate, but rather the silence that would make one feel abandoned. The kind of silence that would makes one's ears ring so much as to drive them mad.
Slowly, he became more and more aware of his surroundings. He was in a plain white room without any mirrors or windows, lying on what seemed to be a cot, wearing nothing but a frail pair of shorts. He couldn't remember anything about himself, who he was, where he was, how he got here, why he was here.
He sat up, carefully examining everything around him, doing his utmost best to set aside the insecurity that washed over him. As if on cue, a discreet door to the room clicked open. He stiffened to the loud sound it made, only to loosen up when a kind looking lady carrying a collapsible chair stepped into the room. She said something to him, but all he heard was gibberish. When he didn't answer, she opened up her chair, pulled out a pen from the white lab coat she was wearing and scribbled something down on a notepad she had come in with.
Suddenly, a jolt of pain ran through his skull, making him unable to focus for a few seconds. The headache died down as soon as it had come, and somehow, he started understanding the lady.
"How are you feeling?" she asked. Thinking took too much effort for he was still feeling woozy, so he settled on answering her question with actions. He nodded yes or no as her interrogation went on, although he wasn't paying much attention to her. He was busy working a question.
"Why—" His voice startled him. Not too deep, but rather soft and authoritative. He tried again. "Why am I here?"
She smiled as if to comfort him, gladly detouring her protocol to check everything. "You're part of an experiment," she said gently.
Surprisingly, he took that information in as if he had heard it a thousand times. He was a bit too calm for his situation.
"Why can't I remember anything?"
His eyes were begging her for answers, and she couldn't do anything but comply. "It's a side effect."
His next question took a bit of time. "What's my name?"
"You don't have one," she said, imitating the tone one would adopt while talking to a child.
His mind went blank. He didn't have a name, an identity, a place in society. He didn't exist as a person, but rather as a being.
"What do you mean I don't have a name?" he questioned bluntly.
"You're 128."
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Entity 128 | ✔️
Science Fiction"In theory, if the information and process of the mind can be disassociated from the biological body, they are no longer tied to the individual limits and lifespan of that body." Dr. George Martin, University of Washington, 1971. Immortality isn't a...
