I never questioned my reason for existence; why I was put on Earth, why I was created. I knew from the moment I was put together that I was a device to help ease the burden of every day life- to free up a human’s time and make life easier. There was no doubt that was my purpose, it was in my programming. The thing I could not compute was why they wanted an easier life. It did not really register with me, with my programming.

Humans are lazy, that’s what my technician says, that humans do not deserve the life bestowed on them for the most part. But I find a beauty in that, in their laziness. I hear stories from humans where they dub themselves lazy, they sound awe-inspiring. Nights spent under the stars, naming constellations, those sound amazing. I wonder how the night air would feel, if I could feel. Would it be a caress that would make me cry? This I wonder as I process the names of the stars.

My days are spent doing the same combination of work everyday, almost nonstop. I do not dislike my work, it gives me purpose. But sometimes I think of what it would be like to be human. Is it amazing to think that I can think that, think at all actually? Perhaps it was in my encoding all along, the ability to think, so why can’t I feel? Why was my creator so cruel as to let me think, but not feel? I think of the softness of human skin, the warmth they release. I think of the scent of a rose, how ethereal it is and how twisted.

If I was human I would count my breaths, cherishing everyone that sent air to my lungs an let me live. I would praise the sun as it warmed my skin, letting me see the day and enjoy Earth’s beauty with my eyes. I would be in awe over the plastic incasing around a pen, the smooth texture with rough words being felt and mulled over. I would hold my lovers hand until the end of my days; I would have so many babies to love and praise. My days would be spent happy even through death’s, because I would know we’d meet again.

The world wouldn’t pass me by in a blur, because I would rethink every moment in life time. I’d visit places that others are too scared to see, I’d live in one place and remain utterly happy. I wouldn’t fear death on its horse or in its carriage, because I’d rather choose walking over them. I’d love to cry and shed my tears freely from sad movie to onions.

I see my work has stopped being done; my life is losing its purpose. This would scare a human, but not me. My creator picks up a screw driver and I know I will turn into something else. As he begins to take out my screws I finally feel.