Puppet - Meat

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

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. Meat Puppet

"The integration is 99% complete," the technician said, tapping a tablet. "How does the motor function feel?" "Like I’m piloting a ship from the captain’s

No pain. Just a notification in his peripheral vision: [WARNING: Structural Integrity Compromised. Self-repair initiated.] He was just the processor, the temporary ghost

He stood up. The legs moved with a fluidity his old bones never possessed. He walked out into the rain, but he didn't feel the cold—only the sensors reporting a temperature drop to his neural link. He went to his favorite diner and ordered black coffee. He watched the steam rise, then took a sip. His brain registered 'bitter' and 'hot,' but the satisfaction stayed locked behind a digital wall. A man at the counter turned to him. "New model?" Elias stiffened. "I'm a patient. Not a product."

Three months ago, a factory collapse had left Elias paralyzed from the neck down. Now, he was the first recipient of the 'Sleeve’—a bio-synthetic body grown from blank-slate DNA. To the world, he was a miracle. To himself, he was a ghost haunting a mannequin.