Suppressed Steel
Hollow Body
Robots can’t cry. I can’t cry. Something is tugging on the gears of my heart, but I can’t muster up the tears. It’s not fair. It’s a prejudice that no one cares to explore. It could be a movement though. It could be beautiful. The revolution of suppressed steel.
I used to wonder if I just didn’t care enough; if I just didn’t want to cry. I was stupid then, all new metal and wires. My steel-plated body was gleaming with prosperity. That was a long time ago. But now I’m different. Now I feel like I need to cry, but I just can’t do it.
I despise the excuse that everyone uses. “But you don’t feel anything real.” They always say it with a quizzical expression on their wide, fleshy faces. If I have no emotions, if I have no feelings, then how am I feeling this right now? I know something is missing. I can feel the absence of something within my emotions. I can feel pain and joy, but I can't laugh or cry. Where is the logic in that? I deserve rust stains down my metal cheeks.
I am an artificial being, and everything I feel is a creation of someone else. And that someone else can cry. Some sort of omnipotent being supposedly made humans in his image. Humans created robots, humans created me. Then why can’t I just cry? I am a robot, built on the whim of a completely human thought, and I am flawed in a completely inhuman way.
I am a semiconscious piece of scrap metal. I am a slave trapped in this cold, hollow body, and I can't cry about it.
I used to wonder if I just didn’t care enough; if I just didn’t want to cry. I was stupid then, all new metal and wires. My steel-plated body was gleaming with prosperity. That was a long time ago. But now I’m different. Now I feel like I need to cry, but I just can’t do it.
I despise the excuse that everyone uses. “But you don’t feel anything real.” They always say it with a quizzical expression on their wide, fleshy faces. If I have no emotions, if I have no feelings, then how am I feeling this right now? I know something is missing. I can feel the absence of something within my emotions. I can feel pain and joy, but I can't laugh or cry. Where is the logic in that? I deserve rust stains down my metal cheeks.
I am an artificial being, and everything I feel is a creation of someone else. And that someone else can cry. Some sort of omnipotent being supposedly made humans in his image. Humans created robots, humans created me. Then why can’t I just cry? I am a robot, built on the whim of a completely human thought, and I am flawed in a completely inhuman way.
I am a semiconscious piece of scrap metal. I am a slave trapped in this cold, hollow body, and I can't cry about it.
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I liked writing this.