Flowers are nice

The only part of my identity that actually matters to me is my body. Gender, identity, race, etc, it's all just a bunch of human constructs that are too philosophical and high minded for me to actually care about, they dont really effect me. The only thing that does effect me, and how others see and perceive and treat me, is my body. That's the only part of my identity that matters because that's the only part that has a real bearing on our material, real life world.

I can call myself a girl or nonbinary or whatever but like...I don't care? It's just words? It's just a funny sound I make with my monkey mouth. It doesn't necessarily affect how others see or treat me, like my body does. I don't understand how other people get so much, I don't, power? Confidence? In these abstract concepts and words, they all mean less than nothing to me. When I call myself a girl it feels the same as when I used to call myself a boy: it's just a funny word, it doesn't mean anything, how could it, it doesn't effect or change anything except in my own head, which isn't good enough.

In one hour, I will be put in The Box.

It has a much more complex and scientific name, of course. But those of us in the system for preparation for it simply call it that. 'The Box', like a device of torture that must not be named.

I've been on the list for some time now. Conscripted, analyzed, prepared, preplanned. While I'd expected something, I doubt I could ever be prepared enough.

We would comfort each other as much as possible. Talk over our worries, assure each other. It was tough to contact the ones post-op, but the ones who did helped explain the procedure.

We wouldn't be aware for most of it anyway. Surgery tended to work better when the patient was unconscious. We'd be put inside, The augments and cybernetics would be applied and attached, our minds would be scanned and be acclimatized to the systems. afterwards we would be in treatment for another 5 weeks as we adjusted to the systems connecting to our synapses and nerves.

Some of us worried of ego death. The ones we could talk to spoke about it like rebirth. Not that they were very vocal. Their handlers tended to translate for them where able, or willing.

And The Box would be where it happened. Keeping our vitals stable while keeping us unconscious, unaware, and deprived of all sensation.

I was scared for a while. Of course I'd be, when described like that. But after some time with those who came out after, the Mech Pilots, the Dolls, the Drones, I'm excited. I think I understand what they mean, if only somewhat.

That's likely part of why I was chosen for this in the first place. Freedom from burden, from worry of choice and blame. Freedom from my slowly breaking body. A chance to find happiness and fulfillment where I couldn't anywhere else. I'd be a weapon, a tool, and that was enough for me. whoever takes the role of my handler will manage the day to day, and if I don't like it (if I even can still dislike it), I could always do what I've heard the first few did. I will be a carefully honed weapon. A tool for greatness.