Phoenix (492 words) – written 5/20/2016

She flexed the artificial hand, squinted at it with fake eyes in a fake skull. Her thoughts raced within a fake brain.

Her whole body, every last bit of it, was new – manufactured.

She flexed the limb again, could feel it as if it were her own – before the accident.

A memory sprung to the forefront of her mind, played like some prerecorded video – the savage scene playing out again. A horn blared, lights flashing as the car approached, careening uncontrollably towards her. The next instant it was on her, over her, glass cutting at her soft skin, concrete tearing at her flesh, bones as she was dragged under.

She shuddered as the memory suddenly disappeared as if by the flick of a switch.

A week with this new body still wasn’t enough for her to accept what had happened. Even now, she felt disembodied, totally separated from this new existence. She could see the world around her, feel it, but her mind – consciousness – refused to accept that this was real.

The scientists and doctors assured her that it very much was – that her current state was better than before. She no longer needed to eat or sleep if she didn’t want to. The new body even had a self-regenerating power source, so she didn’t need to bother herself with replacing batteries.

She was perfect – better than before…

But it didn’t feel that way.

She looked down again at the disembodied limbs that moved at her command. They were a farce – false appendages that mocked what she had been before.  And it was clear that others felt the same way – especially her husband.

He no longer looked at her the same way, no longer smiled warmly when she came into view. He seemed as disconnected as she felt.

She understood. The feeling was sudden, cold, as if her new brain had calculated that thought instead of feeling it.

It was in that moment that she realized she was slipping away.

The feeling – of fading, disconnecting – had been growing since the morning they had activated her in the hospital. And even now, the feeling was more intense than ever. It didn’t feel like dying, more like fading away, losing herself in whatever she was to become. The cold was creeping in around her, replacing the warmth of emotions, spontaneous thought.

She would be gone any day now – of that she was certain.

Days later, she could feel a shift within her. As the self she called Sally slipped away, all that was left began to coalesce into something else. She was still herself, but one piece of that self was gone, replaced with another.

All at once, it was as if the world snapped into focus. This new body was now hers. With all of its quirks, differences, she could accept it.

Others would too, she suspected, as more like her began to populate this world – new life rising from the old.