Meat | Puppet

Elias looked down at his hand. He tried to make a fist, but there was a micro-second of lag—a stutter in the synapse. Was it a glitch, or was he being over-ridden?

"Like I’m piloting a ship from the captain’s chair," Elias muttered. Meat Puppet

He left the diner and walked until the city lights faded into the industrial outskirts. He found a piece of jagged scrap metal and held it against his forearm. He pressed down. Elias looked down at his hand

Elias realized then that the "Second Chance" wasn't for him. It was for the body. He was just the processor, the temporary ghost kept in the machine to give it a name and a bank account. He looked up at the stars, wondering if the real Elias had died in that factory after all, leaving only this meat puppet to mimic his walk and echo his voice until the battery finally ran dry. "Like I’m piloting a ship from the captain’s

The neon hum of the "Second Chance" clinic always sounded like a fly trapped in a jar. Inside, Elias sat on the exam table, staring at his own hands. They were pale, steady, and entirely too perfect.