Robots wanted to hear what it was like to sing along with the radio. They created ears out of empty cans and discarded hair dryers.
The newly installed electronic brain produced high-pitched screaming sounds when presented with anything other than the stuffed, white rabbit.
His body had grown to fill the entire car, so that his arms and legs stuck out the windows, and he dragged himself along until he reached the water.
What was growing on him? It might have a face, probably not a human face.
“His soul will be downloaded into a temporary buffer. It is crucial that you do not reboot or unplug the computer at this time.”
“It’s funny,” she said, “I was invisible, but gravitational like a neutron star.”
Growing out of the center of his forehead was something familiar but also something with an opaque purpose.
“Don’t worry, there’s nothing actually crawling on you, it’s just your skin rearranging itself.”
With dreadful effort he pulled his arm out of the suit, afraid to look down at it.
Leaning out the window he let the air recreate him. It smelled like barbecue.
The extra weight was nothing compared to the tentacles.
“The thing is, you’ll never know the difference. Probably. Make sure you stay very still, don’t flinch.”
The theory was refuted, but he stood by the results. It was sprawling, dotted with brilliant radioactivity.
“Every experiment was a failure except for you. Only you. You are my favorite.”
“At a cellular level we’re changing. Have you noticed?” She looked out over the water, a bit melancholy.