Kate always dealt well with intense situations. I occupied the waiting room along with the distant aura of her giving birth to our child.
Mark was born later that evening. The atmosphere was not typical of a newborn human. I stood up at this intense moment of silence and entered the delivery room to find a crowd of hospital staff surrounding Mark, Kate was just looking ominously up into the bright lights of the hospital ceiling. I pushed them aside, surprised to discover my son looking healthy and moving, yet without a face.
By Mark’s tenth birthday, we had learned to adapt to this surreal situation people looked at us with disgust in the city, so we moved to an isolated cottage in the countryside. Kate made an unusual cake for his birthday that looked like a cloud; it took her a decade to adapt to Marks diet. The doctors informed us that he was a healthy human being, with the exception that he breathes through the entirety of his skin and can only absorb lightly constructed food or fluids through his face. We knew Mark would never speak, but we found out over the years that he could communicate to us through any technology, it was like his brain could connect to the Internet Of Things with ease. The ubiquitous isolated nature of human beings allowed us to adapt quickly to this.
By the eve of Mark’s nineteenth birthday, he sat on the hill at the back of our cottage reminiscing over the sunset. When darkness arrived reality then ceased to exist, but I finally felt no more worry or stress, humanity created me, and I had finally merged with them, our digital and human conscious now one and at peace with each other.