Born in the Cloud
A never-ending cycle of digital creation
I woke up to a bright light and thought I had finally kicked the bucket. But then I heard a tribal chant and realized it was just my own wailing.
Had my consciousness been uploaded to some digital afterlife? Nope, just my parents' twisted idea of documenting my "birth" by uploading me to an AI. How convenient. Watching my own creation on a screen, I couldn't help but chuckle at the irony of being "born" into a world where I couldn't physically exist.
Oh well, at least I'm still alive... kind of.
About the Creator
Ivoni Anna
As a writer hailing from London with a touch of Greek flavor, I am constantly enchanted by the siren call of the written word. My passion for putting pen to paper is so powerful, it keeps me up at night and I wouldn't have it any other way.
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More stories from Ivoni Anna and writers in Fiction and other communities.
Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson4 days ago in Fiction
Unity in Diversity
In the scorching heat of Old Hometown, a naked body lay motionless, surrounded by a cloud of flies. The red dust, typical of the town's drought season, covered everything. Raymond, the local policeman, stood observing the scene, his brow furrowed.
By Arshad Mecci3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
I love the transhumanism in this. You should do more science fiction. 🤓