One Soul With Every Thumb, Today Only

“Am I a real boy?”

In the back of a little electronic parts store in a dilapidated strip mall, an awkward conversation was brewing. Theodore Tyson was an accomplished tinker, grease monkey and a slightly decent modder. He was in no shape or function a psychologist. That didn’t stop Evan, ever.

“Look Evan,let me close you up then we talk.”

Evan’s torso was open wide, his motherboard bared against the elements. Their was nothing wrong with Evan’s equipment, just another lonely automaton looking for someone to talk to.

“There’s not a damn thing wrong with you is there?”

“My right thumb is broken.”

“So why am I looking into your cleavage?”

“I can replace it.”

“Yes, the part is right behind me. 76531M?”

“I can replace it, it’s just a part. All of me, is somewhere behind you in white nondescript boxes.”

Evan’s chest snapped shut with ease. The newer latches were virtually invisible with a shirt on. It would be pretty hard to tell from looking at Evan that he was a man with a DC adapter. The hair was blond, bit like astroturf to the touch but who would touch it. Medium height, medium weight, medium man save for the plastic skeleton and the thumb with wires showing.

“Look, you do want the thumb right?”

“Do I really want anything?”

“Ah, see that kind of stuff should be reassuring.”

Evan looked at Ted curiously. This aging potato of a man had stumped him.

“See that’s the kind of bull that only a real person can spill.”

“Bull?”

“You asked ‘Do I want?’ You can’t want without thinking, you can’t think without being.”

“Cogito Ergo Sum.”

“Sorry, we don’t have any Japanese parts, this is GE but it’s metric so it should fit.”

Seven dollars left Evan and his life was better for the transaction.

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