Writing Prompt No. 65
Guest Post No.2 by Retronaut
His breathing is loud in his ears, in this small space around his head, around his body. He lifts his hands high and moves them spreading his fingers as wide as he can.
Your movements will feel restricted. They said. You’ll think you can’t do anything at all.
He closes his eyes. In. Out. In. Out. He breathes emptying his lungs with every out breath, trying to steady the fear that was rising through his body.
Under the circumstances, this is the best we can do.
He wasn’t sure when the symptoms began. Hives, red and pustular ran all over his skin as if chasing one another. Each lesion leaving a trail. The itching was terrible. Unbearable. The heat from the sun made it worse. A week later his hair began to fall out. The week after that his eyesight began to fail. No one could fathom what had happened. There’d been a fatal breakdown in his system. This wasn’t supposed to happen. The half-humans were built for the work that people didn’t want to do anymore. But they weren’t supposed to break. To fail. The company prided itself on its marketing.
Indestructible. They said.
Yet here he is in a suit attached to tubes to keep his organic self alive. They’d underestimated how the brain might develop and conscious thought. They assumed it would be perfunctory at best. But he's shown the potential, the power that these cells have. He knows they are worried. They should be.
Above photograph is from the capsule ‘1977: The AX-3 Spacesuit’ found at the wonderful Retronaut. Image is reproduced here with the kind permission of Wolfgang Wild.
Feeling brave? Want to share your own version? ‘Let it go’ in the comments below.