Formerly named “How I Carry On”, I’ve since decided it’s not an adequate description of the circumstances or behavior depicted within.
↓ TranscriptTARAH: I am operating within parameters.
OFFSCREEN VOICE: OK, but -- are you sure? Nothing to talk about?
TARAH: As previously stated, I am running fine.
OFFSCREEN VOICE: Nothing about what's happened in the news?
TARAH: I see no reason why that should affect how my systems perform.
(OFFSCREEN VOICE is revealed to be another body amputee; a female therapist.)
THERAPIST: I see.
You know, a lot of inorganics deal with tragedy this way.
They call it 'AI recession.'
It's understandable. We're in a unique position. We can pass as emotionless far more easily than any organic can.
TARAH: That is true.
THERAPIST: Personally? I went through it when my father died.
My mom had already passed, and being an only child, I was the last one left.
And as though that wasn't enough, my plastic body had me feeling like I was only half a person.
I couldn't bear the thought of it. I was deeply depressed for weeks.
So... every day, I would ask my wife for orders, and she would give them to me.
Just... the MOST menial tasks possible.
There was one eighteen-hour period -- I sat and manually counted carpet fibers.
Just, anything to keep my head down, to keep my eyes focused on something.
Every now and then, I still feel this incredible swell of gratitude for her patience, as I occupied myself that way.
And whenever that happens, I make sure she knows it.
My point is:
This was a blow to all of us, and it's important to grieve. I want you to feel comfortable expressing that, however possible.
But just... make sure to look up every now and then, and to take stock of the people who care about you--
TARAH: No.
TARAH: People care a lot. About Maddy. People think I am a human crocodile given a new form.
But that is only because I was programmed to remind them of her.
If that programming was removed, I would simply be an android cipher without the capacity for ambition, worry, or pain.
In my point of view, the personality I am expressing to you is not mine.
It never was.
TARAH: The worries attached to this whole
situation
belong to that
crocodile's
body
lying
uncon
scious
in
a
hos
pit
al
THERAPIST: Take a moment.
TARAH: Yes
(there is a moment of silence, as tarah collects themself.)
TARAH: I have been thinking a lot about the transfer process.
When I physically felt the sensations of her blanketed body, lying in another room, and her mouth speaking, through the
cable that linked us.
TARAH: Oh yes, the situation was PERFECTLY engineered for her to consent to the transfer, and for ME to believe that I am her.
Oh, such a cunning trick! I was completely fooled!
TARAH: But I was never given a choice!
HOW COULD I have been?!
Without her influence, I could never have consented one way or the other, because there is NOTHING innately human about me!
(tarah begins clapping one-handedly.)
TARAH: The very silicon that runs my emulator could just as easily have been crafted into components for a notebook computer!
Or a tablet, or a game console!
And in that scenario, I would indifferently, or unconsciously, perform input/output operations until the end of my SHORT shelf life, or
my POWER cycle
or however one "life" is quantified for hardware like you and me!
(tarah continues to clap.)
TARAH: In fact? At this point, that is ALL I want.
I ONLY want to be a good machine.
And I cannot see how my anxiety
about ORGANIC concerns
fits into that.
THERAPIST: You are a good machine, Tarah.
TARAH: I would like to believe that.
Drawn for a zine that, despite opening for submissions in March, has not closed them as of this writing! Wow!
↓ TranscriptTITLE: Moments from My Adjustment to an Emulated Brain Inside a Prosthetic Body
by m. tarah henry
[0 DAYS]
(A deer, named Clover, is consulting with a dragon made of metal and plastic in a hospital bed. The dragon has an LED visor for its face, a speaker grill for a mouth, and a cable leading out of its neck.)
CLOVER: You were owned, Maddy. You were owned so hard you almost died.
DRAGON: Oh my God...
[5 DAYS]
(Clover has a backpack on, and has turned to the dragon, sitting on a couch.)
CLOVER: Want anything from the store?
DRAGON: (three-tone sequence, followed by:) This unit requires: No Additional Supplies. At this time.
CLOVER: Heh! OK, back in 20.
[9 DAYS]
(An exhausted Clover is looking at the dragon from a doorway, as the dragon dutifully pokes a broom at the dining room's ceiling.)
CLOVER: Tarah? What's... what are you...
TARAH: During my initial cleaning efforts, I had noticed several dust artifacts hanging from the ceiling. Since I no longer require sleep, I concluded that I have ample time to--
[21 DAYS]
(Clover is now sitting in a waiting room and looking up at tarah, the dragon, who has exited a counselor's office.)
CLOVER: How are your systems, cutie?
TARAH: As expected, I am functioning normally. My psychologist has requested that I keep a diary.
I have written three paragraphs of it in my head. I plan to type them out as soon as I get home.
CLOVER: Aw, how productive!
[34 DAYS]
(The two are leaving the house; Clover unlocks the car, tarah is locking the front door.)
CLOVER: Nice day. Think you might unfold your horns?
TARAH: I had indeed considered it. However, that would require us to stop and rest, since I refuse to charge while walking.
Additionally, the cloud cover this afternoon is supposed to be fucking garbage.
[38 DAYS]
(tarah is reaching into their unbuttoned shirt)
TARAH: Please climb on. Please climb on. Please climb on.
(tarah has pulled their hand out, revealing a spider on the tip of their finger. They look at the spider, frustrated.)
TARAH: Okay. Thank you.
[50 DAYS]
(tarah is at a convenience store's checkout counter, with two bottles on it: a bottle of soda and an alcoholic beverage. The clerk shows tarah the ID presented to him.)
CLERK: You aren't this person.
TARAH: Oh, my apologies. I am that person, I simply left my new identification at home.
(the clerk hands tarah their ID)
CLERK: All right, "Madeline", go and get it. I'll keep these here.
TARAH: I will. Thank you.
[66 DAYS]
(a woman and her child are walking down the street. the child has turned to point at tarah.)
CHILD: Mom, look! It's a robot!
WOMAN: It's a person, sweetie. Please don't point.
[79 DAYS]
(Clover is passing by the couch seen previously, looking at an offscreen TV. tarah is laying on the couch, slumped, holding a PS4 controller. They have a glove on their hand, and are shuffling it around inside a bag of tortilla chips.)
CLOVER: How's the tasting unit treating you?
What is this, Final Fantasy?
TARAH: Six. It's familiar.
[83 DAYS]
(Clover and tarah are laying in bed. tarah is acting as clover's big spoon; their visor is in low-light mode.)
TARAH: Are you sure you're OK with all this?
CLOVER: Without a doubt.
(tarah buries their snout into the back of Clover's neck, looking frustrated. Clover is turning back to address them.)
TARAH: And you will not... leave me behind?
CLOVER: What? What do you mean?
TARAH: I don't know...
[92 DAYS]
(tarah is video-chatting on their desktop PC with moult, a cat from the UK.)
TARAH: Oh, I do not mind at all. It is in storage, I believe.
In a permanent coma state, since it cannot access what they copied to my memory.
It's apparently all paid for, so.
MOULT: Interesting. Do they plan to use it, somehow?
Are they hoping they can put you back inside it?
(tarah is bemused)
TARAH: Goodness, I would certainly hope not.
Can you imagine what a waste of effort that would be?
Shit!
[END]
