| A Micro Graphic Novel Project |
| Sometimes |
| By Cory Doctorow |
| http://www.craphound.com/ |
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Sometimes you cut the branch and sometimes you cut the tree. It depends on how deep the rot goes. |
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I cut the tree. When the meat sloughed away from my bones, when my mind was lased off, ablated away layer by layer by the nanites, when my mind left my body, I felt fear. There were *so many* things I'd never done, things I'd never seen. Maybe I could paste them into my consciousness once I was free of my meatsuit, once I was a brain in a jar, a mind in the machine. Maybe it would be the same. But the meat made me afraid. |
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STOP! I screamed, mouthlessly. STOP! I begged. I didn't care if it meant being a shambling thing with a half-gone body that the children pointed at in horror. I didn't mind if it meant being a monster, if I could keep my meat. My meat made me weak, and it wanted me to protect it. Fucking meat. |
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| No one but me witnessed my weakness and I've never asked anyone here if they, too, were weak at the moment they were reborn. Maybe it's the secret we all share, a summer camp full of secret bedwetters getting up in the night to turn our mattresses and hide the evidence of our weakness. Maybe I'm not the only one. |
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