The Curse of the Cyborg 03-December-2010
Being a Cyborg is tough, to say the least. We’re not well known, we’re rarely understood, and for the most part, the world is full of humans! The best we can do is try to ‘blend’. It’s just not always possible.
And then the kids blurt it out at the oddest times… Now and then Sophie will just toss that out at random, “My Dad is a robot inside. That time he died, the doctors cut him in half and put wires and stuff inside him.” I think it’s healthy for kids to think you’re a robot inside. Even though the doctors claim it’s impossible, Sophie also says she can hear the generator in my chest making beep boop noises if she puts her ear directly over it. I believe her. Just because a grownup can’t hear it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist…
So since I’m a Cyborg, I have to be careful of various hazards… the most deadly of which (not that I believe that, given that I’m also immortal, which is an entirely different issue, not at all to be confused with ‘invincible’, it’s a common misconception) is giant magnets. Specifically, MRI equipment as well as those giant junkyard magnets they use to pick up cars and toss them into the crusher. I think that only happens in movies, but still, I do watch out for them everywhere I go.
What was I talking about? Oh yeah, the airport! The security sign says, “Please notify security if you have an implant or metal prosthesis.” So I did. And I wished I hadn’t. X-Ray equipment does not bother my implant. But given that 9/10 doctors have no idea how my implant works, I gave up on explaining it to airport security, and just let them pat me down so they didn’t have to worry about the X-Ray machine killing me. I’m assuming that creates all sorts of paperwork?
On the way home I was standing in the security line, trying to decide whether or not to tell them about the implant. I’m assuming it would trip the X-Ray machine and I’d end up tazered. Which doesn’t harm a Cyborg mind you, but likely to royally piss me off. (This is ALL Cyborgs, not just me for future reference.) Then I noticed that one of the security guards was an absolutely lovely young lady. I DO need a patdown! Wouldn’t want to break the rules. I’m just that docile. And finally an UP side to being a Cyborg!
When I reached the front of the line, I walked up to her and said with a smirk, “Hi, I need a patdown.” She must have been able to hear the voices in my head or something, because she grinned from ear to ear. It was apparent that she knew I had chosen my security guard wisely! She gave me a big smile, and while grinning from ear to ear, used her radio to page a big fat guy to come pat me down. Then happily reported to me that HE would be right with me. *sigh*
While it was bitterly cold and harsh rejection, it was so damn nicely done that I just had to respect it!!!
Bill was a perfect gentleman by the way. In fact he even told me he was embarrassed about his weight, and I told him the story of when I used to weigh 300 pounds. We bonded. And not just from him cupping my package.
If a Cyborg approaches you and asks for affection, you’re under no obligation to humor him. But, for the love of God, don’t have a fat guy cup his package. It’s just hurtful, and Cyborgs have feelings too!!!
Cheers from The ThreeFiveZero Cyborg