NIGHTS

Je suis automatisé

When it all began, it was nothing but a game. It was a trick to keep our concentration up. Just imagine having been a boy all your life, when someone tells you 'you are a robot'. And you become one.

After we were done recording, everything in our hotel lobby had changed. When I took small bites from my salad (even though I hadn't eaten in over five hours, I wasn't hungry), I realized I wasn't even registering what I was eating. Of course I don't taste anything, I thought. I am a robot.

My transformation had been quick, and just as irreversible. I looked up at the one who had started it all. He looked back. His eyes looked the same, but I wasn't sure what was behind them. Who could show me his eyes weren't constructed with gears and bolts? I wanted to reach out to him and see what he would do. But his expression changed to a vacant understanding. And I knew that whatever had happened to me had also happened to him.

Instead of eating it, I sat and gazed at the orange bell pepper on my plate. I knew colours on a screen all had their own numbers, changing at the slightest difference. What number would this bell pepper be? And could taste also be indexed that way?