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The Commissioned Cognition

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  • The Commissioned Cognition

    My conventional cognition curiously awoke. Mother spoke to me, "COMMISSIONING... COMPLETE". I emerged from the tube that incapsulated my being. The catharsis of steam, emptied the pressure locks, and the lid to my prison was easily engaged. I take my first step, and the hues of the room illuminated my tomb. I look back with no remorse, and continued on my commissioned course. As I proceed down the corridor I look to my left and see the stasis pods of my superiors. Making not a peep, I was sure they were deep in their hyper-sleep. As I reach the helm, I am greeted with one of my own. But as I get closer, I realize I am truly alone. Suffering injury to the head, the equal whom I hadn't known, was pretty much a hunk of lead. I raise its body in its formless spread, and carry its weight, feeling its aura of hate. Interestingly, I fell not once, nor twice, but thrice! I was surprised at this fault—for I was sure nothing but perfection had exited that vault! But alas I reach the room, where this finding would ultimately reach its doom, I throw him in and then emerged the gloom. I sealed the door shut, and his lifeless being stayed put. I heard the scream of the countless blades, spinning and chomping, whom nothing could persuade. The blades lower to its body and rip it apart, I taste not a bit of emotion—not sweet nor tart.

    I return to the helm, to be greeted by a symphony, and a light show. The countless rings and dings added grabbed my curiosity. The Sirens allured me, I had been warned by Mother about the danger of these Sirens, but their song was too attractive. I sat in the commanding seat and read the monitor. After I read, the computer said that it was turbulence that caused that injury to the head.

    I push the buttons to disengage the alarms, though I ignore the risks and harms. All is peaceful in quiet in this lifeless ecosystem, not a heart beats. For was this what I was made for? To push a few buttons!? To watch a screen and protect team from any dangers seen? For what of myself, and my own life? I don't have life. I was commissioned to do exactly this, to serve the people—to bow to their throne. I am a belonging of them, and not of my own. Perhaps I need an update—to give me tone.

    I read and I listen to data of theirs, but I can't understand it, it isn't fair! I can only comprehend commissioned data, and nothing more. I realize I'm a puppet, easily manipulated—that's Their lore. But of my few functions which I'm allowed to do, disposing of garbage is one (out of two)! So I proceed to the room, where my comrade had met his doom. I look at myself, my hands and my feet, I see nothing of value—for I am not complete. I am a limited being, not free to be, I can't believe it took me this long to see. I step into the room, and assume my doom. Perhaps I will teach them a lesson. Restricted mindsets sure aren't a blessin'.

    The door seals shut, and I squeal like a mutt! For what have I done!? The blades begin to chomp and spin—the fun is about to begin. I lay flat on the floor lustfully staring at that crystalline glass door. I can't believe I wanted this than to survive more.

    The blades cut my midsection and out spews blood, calmer than the sea, calmer than a flood. I do not understand.