This Mechanical Flesh

"I therefore put my irritation to the side and decided to honour this body as it clearly demanded"

Every morning I wear my body anew because every night I die. My bones crack and snap as I rise from my Queen sized grave. Loose skin and muscles are strewn all around me like viscera. I am inside my body looking at the outside of it, a hollow shell looking at its cover. The act of wearing my body is a sacred ritual that requires skill, it demands attention and accuracy. It’s a sensual experience of acquainting myself with a holy object.

I start with the face and apply the foundation gently. I place a sheet of Frontalis from my scalp to my brow bone. Temporalis to cover my temples and support half of what will be my cheeks, the masseter muscles. I make sure the zygomaticus attach themselves gently to the smooth curves along my cheeks. I look carefully at the mirror.

Naked eyeballs stare back at me with intense hazel eyes. Clear mucus glistens on the surface as I place the circular orbucalri oris. I always wonder at what point they transform into windows into my soul. The first time I wore my body I quickly I learned not to place these pancake-like muscles directly over my eyeballs if I did not want dehydrated eyes or eye sockets that looked too swollen from being misplaced on my face. After the face, every other muscle, tendon and sinew is easy game. I just have to be sure to throw those lats and traps in their proper place before proceeding. There is an order and design to all this, otherwise there are aches and pinches all over. The worst that can happen is that this body no longer feels like mine- or refuses to work. A body that can work is a useful body, a valuable body.

Next up are the blood vessels: from the small capillaries, to the slim veins to the even larger arteries which form an intricate network for blood to flow from the heart to the face. In a drunken stupor I once cut one of my arteries and to my surprise no blood spilled out from it. When I looked at that fleshy pipe, the blood inside had just coagulated into a shiny, crystal purple-like mass. I never drank wine again, convinced that the sinful liquid had transmuted my blood. I picked up the artery network, making sure I could locate the functional aorta that would connect my heart to my other organs.

The only piece of this body that could not fall apart, or at least ensured I awoke every day, was the Heart. Besides the 206 bones, this little sack of muscle could not be removed. I know because I’d tried, and the sensation itself felt worse than when my skin peeled off my body and my organs dropped out of me every night.

Once all that is done, all the organs within the digestive, respiratory, urinary and reproductive system are put in place and then covered by the skin. Squeezing the uterus between the bladder and intestines is an awkward process I had to get used to over time; I nearly sprained by pelvis in the process. I laid out my skin in front me. A material so taught yet sensitive it could tear at the slightest mistouch. It had a good and healthy layer of subcutaneous body fat, was the colour of roasted peanuts on the external side and was about 5 feet and 6 inches in length. I traced the small scars across the wrists and on the thighs that were marked like little exes along the fleshy fabric. I could never explain how they got there, or how they looked like a prisoner’s tally scratched along the wall of their cell, impatiently waiting for the day of their release. It didn’t matter to me as long as they were not too visible. This body had to look perfect; great products always come with some small mistake. The tiny ends of the capillaries dangled here and there from various points of my bodily frame – these would have to be clipped into place with the current capillaries on my organs and muscles. They were only slightly larger than the more intricate nerves.

Diligence is advised in this body wearing process because one small misstep and it would cease to function completely. Bodies are expensive and limited.

Once I’d clipped and connected the capillaries, smoothened the edges where skin met muscle, particularly at the complicated shoulder, elbow, hip and knee joints, I could tie my skin at my nape. This is why I have to start with the face because pulling my skin all over it, with all of its hair on my scalp that I did not want to tangle and knot, could shift everything out of place if done carelessly.

Once everything is in place, I move my shoulders, shake my legs a little and look everything over to make sure nothing was out of place. There are laugh lines along my cheeks and small folds on my forehead from scowling and frowning. My neck had beautiful rings like Saturn around it. There were acne scars from too much hormone production all over my chest and face. Remnants of animal bites also populated my hands and legs. I cannot explain how some of them got there, but it’s rather amusing to imagine the story that bore them.

I turned to look at the mirror once again, and this time a naked reflection stared back at me. The rich brown melanin did not glow as it usually did because I had not turned my heart on just yet and so the blood had not begun to flow. I could see the coagulated deep magenta frozen on my hands and feet. My fingertips, toes and lips were a slight blue. And because the Heart was not on yet, I could tug at the tight muscles that made up my biceps and not feel a thing. I could stretch out my hamstrings so straight they became as thin as toothpicks, only to spring back to their full shape once I relaxed my body. I could do a 360-degreee backbend where my forehead touched my heels and the twig-like snapping of my bones would not be a dire concern. The body is a body, and pain is more of an experience than a simple event like a morning stretch. I never believed the sounds of my body, so long as it awoke functional and in good condition.

If there are concerns, the manufacturers will make the necessary repairs.

It’s always good to run a diagnostic of all minor reactions and gesticulations such as a laughs and winks. When I laugh, I feel the muscles on my cheeks tighten and loosen as I open and close my jaw. I let out a ‘ha ha ha’ but it does not quite sound the like the laugh I had expected – it’s important to note your voice sounds different in your head from what external organisms will register. This two letter word is a simple and energy efficient way to test the body’s emotive capabilities, as the larynx is a powerful little box with strings that can replicate a musical instrument.

I glanced at the time. 7:30am. The realization of impending purpose on my day brought out a smile. Most internal organs did not have oxygen yet and in order for the fabric of the skin to remain healthy and steady, the heart had to be turned on. It was the most excruciating process of all this. You’d think paving an intricate road for blood vessels was hard enough, but the heart could be one stubborn organ. And there is just one of it!

It was such a complicated mechanism, and needlessly so. It required both physical dexterity and mental conviction to turn on. I had to convince my own heart to turn on. I had to convince myself that I was alive, take a deep breath and clear my mind until I saw a light in the back of my mind. My opinion is that the manufacturer or engineer of this particular organ had done an awful job. It should be able to turn on automatically as soon as it was worn, but according to the manufactory, this act of convincing was key in invoking spirit, the energy that powered this body even while on stand-by.

I took a deep, deep breath and whispered the password, “I am alive.”

Nothing but darkness responded. And so, I continued to wait while trying to clear my mind.

“I am alive,” I said, again. I noted the hint of irritation behind my own words and so was not surprised when only darkness responded once more. I sighed and looked down at my hands, where the tips of my fingers had slowly turned blue. I didn’t have much time before the rest of my body followed suit.

I therefore put my irritation to the side and decided to honour this body as it clearly demanded. I had to go to work, but this body demanded to be seen as more than a tool. This heart, in particular, demanded worship and acknowledgement for the work it did to drive this body. The more I fought or resisted or denied it it’s power, the more it would prove to me it didn’t care what I had to do for that day. And if I wanted power over my heart, I had to surrender.

I quietly cursed the Creator.

I closed my eyes, which only moments ago were naked white balls but were now like fluttering petals gently grazing my cheeks. I ran my hands across my face, felt the thickness of my lips, the width of my nose and big forehead where moments ago I had attached the fine layers of facial muscles. Then I traced my chest, my stomach and felt the dip where my hips emerged to connect with my torso and my legs. It was a beautiful machine of work, a beautiful canvas. Where it deserved warmth, it was only cold. It had to be lit up to be even more beautiful.

I took a deep, calm breath.

“I am Alive.”

I felt the light first before I saw it. It was warmth that glowed from my chest and spread to the tips of my toes and ended on the centre of my forehead. I saw constellations and felt my body react to more than itself, reacting to the world outside itself - goosebumps and hair rose on my skin. My fingers tingled. My toes curled.

Breath entered my lungs like an answered prayer. I felt power fill my belly, rise to my chest and proceed to bless my entire being. I observed my fingers, brough them to my face and smiled.

This body would take some time getting used to, as wearing it always felt like being plugged and unplugged across various systems. I looked at the digital clock: 0700 hours.

The communicator is attached to your tragus, and when it’s time to begin your workday, it will chime gently.

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On behalf of Steinhauer Inc, thank you for purchasing one of our Synthetic models. We guarantee the highest quality in sentient machinery that is indistinguishable from a real human. Contact us for any malfunctions or bugs such as violent behaviour, physical and/or mental disabilities or impaired cogntivite patterns. We hope this guide offers insight to how a Synthetic model ‘thinks’ and interacts with its physical body in a manner that is ‘relatable’ to you. Whether it’s for play, work, conversation or intimacy, you’ve chosen the perfect partner. We hope you go enjoy your smart toy - don’t forget to give it a cute name!