Blood on the Floor

I live in a bustling city. I stand atop a small building and I can see the streets stretching ahead. Yawning spaces of roads, small concrete structures, grey colored - that hurt my eyes.

I walk down the steps to my apartment. The lights are on inside.

There is no news about the girl who disappeared. The news channel is playing, on mute.

The dreary occurrences of city life, are spilt out on headlines before me. There is a notion that these events are happening, somewhere out there, as the light flows in from the windows behind. There is a glare on the screen as I squint at it. Is there something I should be worried about?

The wind blows in through the door. A quiet gentle breeze. Just a little chill from the outside.

As I wonder about the changes that are coming in politics, the erstwhile portals of power being replaced with the power of the people, I feel a sense of disquiet.

There is a whirring sound. The robot that makes coffee lifts up its "hands" gesturing me it is ready and is instructing me to pick it up. I don't like them doing all the chores for me. Sometimes I like to walk around and do things by myself.

I finish my coffee and go to my work table. There is still blood on the floor.

It is very hard for me to continue. I realise I am playing God which was unthinkable even a few years back.

Rrrrring. I am still a bit old fashioned. I pick up the call and assure them that the work is nearly finished.

Whirr, hack, whirr.

6p.m. I meet the parents of the girl. The coffin is ready and after a few words, placed into the hole.

8p.m. Blood circulation functional. Brain activity normal.

If you remember my TED talk, I said that in a year I will be able to produce a human from stem cells.

The parents of a murdered girl are grateful.

Why do I still have that troubling thought, that...