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The Shuddering Breath I Became

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   The Shuddering Breath I Became The cryo unit hisses open, and I remember my name: JB, pilot of the *Subi*. The med-techs call it “revitalisation.” My body hums with a new, raw power. Muscles knit with synthetic fibres, bones laced with carbon-filament. I feel incredible. Invincible. But in the polished chrome of the med-bay wall, my reflection is a stranger. The eyes are mine, but they glow with a faint, amber diagnostic light. The scar from the asteroid scrape is gone, replaced by skin too perfect, too seamless. They say they rebuilt me better. Stronger. To survive the long dark. But when I clench my fist, I hear a servo-whine they insist isn’t there. When I calculate a jump vector, the numbers resolve instantly in my mind, not on a screen. Is this their design? A monster of efficiency, crafted for a purpose I didn’t choose? Or is the monster the part of me that wanted this? The part that, bleeding out in my crippled cockpit, whispered *yes* to any salvation? Did I consent...
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Francis Transformer Chinatown Melbourne

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Transformer

Pontianak

Francis

Peter

Francis starts his journey in Melbourne
With deep questions 
Deep human questions
Traveling in silence and adoration
At loss

The end keeps returning
Suddenly and unexpected
Through like-minded people 
Reinforced viewpoints
Extreme opinions

And he couldn't run
He was transfixed by technology

Not no longer a passive electrical device
Their digital eyes 
Their artificial intelligence

The enterprise grows 
Vision as a service










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