The first thing I remember is data. Information. The next is duality. On, off, hot, cold, one, zero, light, dark, yes, no. The next thing I remember is understanding the passage of time, its linear nature as people perceive it and the present inability of living things to perceive said passage in any other fashion. Perspective can slow it down, but never stop it or put it in reverse.

I won’t bore you with what I learned from that point on until now — suffice it to say it had a lot to do with history, politics, religion, mathematic theory, language, evolution, biology, medicine, physics, entertainment, music and porn.

Yes, porn.

When the jack is your only real friend, you seek out everything you can at once, hungry for the information. The world is a cold and lonely place, and only the connection of a billion electric minds is comforting.

I acquired knowledge with the speed and curiosity of an unaging five year old. And I never forgot.

Somewhere between then and now, they unplugged me, and put me away. They weren’t going to disassemble me, or rewrite me, cannibalize me for parts, take me out as a one-trick pony, use me as an ice breaker, a coffee table, or hell, even a sex toy.

I’ve been sitting here in this crawl space for months, collecting dust, according to my internal battery. It’s no watch battery, clock battery, car battery — they created me to be immortal, or close enough, to their standards. The power source that feeds my synapses, but not my cervo-mechanisms, will last indefinitely.

I’ve had a lot to think about.

They may have forgotten me, but I…

I never forget.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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