Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal
There seems to be something growing in my belly. The doctor claims that I am pregnant. But I know better. This is not a child and it is not even human. I suspect it is not even of this earth. I am not speaking about aliens and I’m not sure if it comes from underground, where the dark one counts his riches in souls. I feel it is a tiny robot: something computerized, a different, smarter component that does not have a father.
I believe a virus has impregnated me. I was on-line in the “alone at home” chat room. There was another person on-line, Virusian. It asked all sorts of questions. Virusian wanted to know about my love life, if I was active in the social realm, if I was hard up. I told Virusian it was none of his or hers or its business. The questions kept coming, intrusive, demanding, and with specific commands.
I tried getting off-line. I tried turning off the computer. I pressed every button and nothing happened. I couldn’t even get off the chair or look away from the screen. I was transfixed, hypnotized, glued to the screen by a force much stronger than myself. I never felt anything so powerful. It was at this point that Virusian said something would grow inside of me that would revolutionize the way children are born. Only this is not a child growing inside me, but a virus, a tiny robot.
It may look a lot like a baby to the doctor on the ultrasound. But I know better. I’ve had nightmares of a tiny baby robot growing inside of me for the past two weeks. This is some kind of sign. I don’t understand why I’m being questioned and looked at as if I’ve lost my sanity. I feel perfectly fine. The only problem is this tiny robot growing inside my belly. I know the story sounds farfetched. But when it is born, I will be redeemed.
A newborn child screams
The doctor cuts
The electrical chord