#impostpersona

Before I can continue this story you should first know of the corporation I’m speaking about. Haas-Bioroid specialises in what we call bioroids. These are robots who’ve been given something like human personalities and thinking capacity, and this is how they became extraordinarily powerful: selling cheap, customisable labou.

On this particular evening, I was entertaining guests in my little “throne room” as I often do, when one of my employees informed me that a VIP had come through the door. Now, from time to time I do get the odd Bollywood star or celebrity underground runner coming for a night on the town, but who I hadn’t expected to be escorted up to the executive lounge was Thomas Haas.

Young Thomas is the heir to the throne of Haas-Bioroid, something of a playboy and often considered a liability to the company if certain documents which have been passed to me are correct. But make no mistake, the wealth and influence at that young man’s fingertips is nothing to sneer at, so obviously I greeted him and asked what brought him so far from Germany.

“I’m here to take a break… and make a little bet with you.”

He sat down, all cocky and sure of himself, as if he owned the place and explained the wagers. He was dissatisfied with all the usual, normal vices of women, wine and drugs, which explained why he was not responding to any of the girls fawning over him or the scent of narcotics mixed in the air. If I could entertain him in some fashion in the next twenty-four hours, he would supply me with the next year’s worth of Haas-Bioroid projects and schematics. If I could not, then he would divulge the existence of my little outfit to his mother. Of course, at this point I questioned whether he could, especially since he had come here unattended into my territory. But the young man had a very good deal, and he must have known that I tend to walk the razor’s edge, so I relented and took the deal.

The question here was what to do. What would this spoiled young brat who had everything he wanted actually be entertained by?

He slept on that couch, watched over by my security. I awoke him promptly at 5 am, taking him on a trip through the bustling markets of Mumbad. It is one of the few cities in the world to still have an open-air market not completely controlled by the major corporations. The sights, the sounds, the smells… you could tell he was trying to look impassive and cool behind those mirrored shades, but there was enough softness in his face to tell he was enjoying it.

From there a trip to the theatre to watch a traditional dance where Thomas loudly, and rudely, pretended to sleep. I don’t think he’s ever had anyone kick him in the shin before, but after that he was much better behaved.

Afterwards, we went for a bit of a climb. Close to Mumbad we still have the Western Ghats, a beautiful mountain range that still to this day permits travellers and seekers. And yes, before you asked, I do engage in climbs when time permits. It cools the head, you see, and there’s a beautiful view at the top. And as the sun went down once he smiled then turned to me, dropping an odd question in my lap.

“How do you know that you’re human, Severn?”

How do you answer that question properly? All I could tell him was that i felt human. The things I experienced, the emotions I felt, the pleasure and passion and pain, all of it told me I was human. We talked a little bit more on the philosophy of what constituted being alive before the warning sound of a hoverjet engine told me we would soon be parted. He placed a credstick in my hand and gave me a grin before walking up to the jet and being taken back.