The World of Leonardo Morgado

All the wet weather that we’ve been having has had a rather odd effect on my perception of self.  On Tuesday, I was walking towards the train station heading for work, when I began to hear a distinct squeaking sound.  I stopped walking and the sound stopped too.  I carried on walking and the squeaking began again.  I was overcome with the fear that the rain and damp had played havoc with my body and that the only logical cause of the squeak was that I was some kind of automatonic android and not flesh and blood.

The sudden realisation that one is not in fact a member of the human race but the creation of a scientist possibly a mad one is rather a shock to the system.   I began to think that all the memories I possess were not through thirty five years of experiences but downloaded into my processor of a brain recently.  What consequences would this revelation have on my relationship?  Were the self-doubts I was having at that precise moment merely some kind of short-circuit?

As the rain fell, I wondered whether I would stop working all together and break down completely like a 21^st century Tinman.   As I carried on walking with the squeak still continuing I looked at the metal clasp of my bag and held it.   The squeak stopped.  Panic over.