Shards of Humanity

[Huhuh]

As the Toledo afternoon came to a close, the sun sank beyond the horizon. Its last rays peaking through the blinds of Benjamin Stone's apartment.

He sat in a large leather chair facing blinds. The light pattern gave the impression that he was imprisoned. Stone maintained an expression of sadness on his face. A tear had long since dried on his cheek, but it was still visible under direct light.

What am I? Do these prosthesis make me less of a man?

Stone ran his finger along the arm of the chair.

I know it's soft, but do I feel it as being soft? No, a machine tells me that it's soft. These hands do not feel.

Stone got up and walked to the bathroom.
He stood in front of the mirror, examining himself. His prosthetic eye appeared to glow in the dull light. He raised his hand to his face and gently touched his lip, then placed his finger on the mirror. The only difference between the two things was that his lip springed back, while the mirror didn't budge. He closed his eyes and exhaled.

I might as well be prodding things with a cane. This is no substitute for real human feeling.

With the hissing sound of the hydraulics in his arms, Stone punched the mirror, shattering it. Stone withdrew his hand and examined it with a displeased look upon his face.

Not a scratch.

Forgetting he was barefoot, Stone went to walk out of the room. A sharp pain had jolted up his leg; he had cut his foot on a piece of the mirror. He lifted his foot and saw blood drip from it. Crimson staining the once sterile white floor. He lowered himself down awkwardly to the bathroom cupboard and retrieved a bandage. With an unsteady hop, he managed to make it over to the bathtub, where he sat down to tend to his foot. After a few minutes, the bloody shards were removed. Within a few more minutes, his foot was cleaned and bandaged. Stone took extra care to hop around the disaster area. Once he was clear, he laid his foot down. He winced he put pressure on the wounded foot.

Eventually he made his way back to his chair. After a moment's contemplation, Stone lifted his foot and rested it upon his knee. He prodded the wound experimentally, wincing each time he did so. He drew in a deep breath and forced his finger into the laceration. He yelled out in pain, but he smiled as he did so.

Still human after all.

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