Taking Up Biology

By theidiotmachine

Hatty awoke. There was a lump of meat in her mouth. It writhed and she spasmed in fear.

Oh yes. This is my tongue. What do I with it again? How do I avoid swallowing it?

If I kept my mouth open, let my tongue loll out, perhaps that would be safest. Don't dogs do that? Maybe that's why.

Her fingers twitched.

Ah yes, she thought. Hands. Arms. They seem straightforward. I think I can do this...

She lifted her hands. She didn't yet dare open her eyes to see them, though. Instead, she placed her arms carefully back down where they had started, on the bed at her sides, frightened of tearing the fragile meat that made them move. She continued her survey.

Her lower torso contained...

Ugh, pipes. No, not pipes. Worse: gummy, floppy sacks of liquid. I can hear them, gurgling away down there. Oh god, is there gas? There's probably gas, isn't there?

I don't want to move, in case something flows the wrong way. Can it flow out? I have... holes, don't I? Like my mouth, but further down. Oh sweet god, this is horrible.

She lifted her hand again, and touched her other arm. It was the one part of her that she liked.

Perhaps I can take my mind of the awful stuff, she thought. Yes, this is elegant. The way the meat shrinks and grows, the way the tendons anchor it to the bone. The way the blood is pumped up and down. That's in pipes, true, but those pipes, the veins and arteries, feel pretty tough, not like the weak, soggy mess in my belly. I don't think I could cut them by accident. They remind me of coolant feeds, dependable and resilient.

Have I forgotten about the gas? No, damn it. I just reminded myself.

'How are you getting on in there, Hatty?' called Carter, through the closed door,

'Gnnn gnnn goh gayy,' she replied, careful not to let her tongue slip into her mouth.

'Mmm, OK. Let me know if there's anything I can do.'

OK. I like hands. And arms. I think I like my ribs, too, the way they make a complicated cage of bone and flesh, which rises and falls. And my skull.

Mmm, yes, my skull is fantastic: it's heavy and strong.

She tapped her head a few times.

Ouch. OK so yes it's strong, but it hurts, anyway. Fine. That makes sense. If I was human, that would be the really important bit.

Right, I'm going to get up. I can do this. I'm going to get up. I'm going to lift my neck, like this: contract the muscles on my legs and gut, to pull them up. Swing my legs round, here, put my feet on the ground, let them take my weight. I can balance now, I'm sure of it. OK. And one, two...

Oh... shiiiiit....

#

Hatty opened her eyes. No, she didn't. She activated cameras, and it was so much nicer than looking using squishy spheres full of gunk. She floated down from the ceiling.

The crumpled organic body was slumped on the floor. Its limbs were disarrayed; one of its legs was at an angle that meant a dislocation or breakage. There was a smear of blood that started on the bed and ended at its nose.

Yuck, she thought.

The body was breathing, because that was how it was designed. The lower functions were running automatically, the lungs, heart and all the other soft, soggy organs continuing literally mindlessly, while she watched from outside, in a drone.

It had a nasty bruise on the back of the head. I must have banged it and damaged the connection, she thought. Oh look: I slipped on that patch of drool. That came out of my mouth when I didn't know what to do with my tongue.

Her drone didn't shudder. That was one of the things she loved about being an AI: no uncontrollable biological reflexes. But, that was how she felt.

'Carter,' she said. 'Carter. I'm really sorry. I can't do it.'

The door opened, and he came in: her beloved human. He looked down at the body, and up at the drone. She knew his expression so well: knew that he was doing his best to disguise his disappointment and unhappiness, so as not to hurt her. And she ached inside.

'It's fine, Hatty. It really is. I don't mind.'

He was lying and was in pain, and she wanted to pick up the human rag doll lying at his feet and wrap its arms around him. But she couldn't. She just couldn't live in that horrifying prison of gurgling flesh.

So instead, she hovered down next to him. She extended a plastic arm, and ran it over his shoulder, down his arm.

'I know it's not fine, Carter.'

He smiled up at her.

'Look. What can I say? Biology's not for everyone.'

He looked down at the body.

'We should probably get rid of this. And then, come on. I want to show you Goodfellas. I was hoping you'd be able to eat popcorn, but that's fine, more for me.'

'You wanted that the first thing I'd do as a human was to see Goodfellas? I'm glad I didn't do it, now.'

He smiled, wickedly. 'No. But I think the first thing you should do after disposing of a human body is to see Goodfellas...'