June 8th, 2253

Eros,


So I guess I'm kind of famous. I knew I was, I guess, but its just so much more...real...today. I think. I don't know. I can't explain it. It just really came over me today after I heard from Dr. Hemi. He called this morning to make sure I was onboard. Duh! Thats not even a question anymore. He gave me all the details about who'll be in the room, whose performing, etc. etc., and at this point its so routine I don't care what the fuck. But I did register during our convo that this apparently monumental surgery is being broadcast, live, with those weirdo eye-cameras. At one point a long, long time ago, that would have freaked me out beyond comprehension. And I guess today it really clicked that I know I'm famous and that I'm part of changing the world, in a changing world, and that history will write about me and my story and it will be important for whatever future generations come along and say, hey science, I'm gonna change you all over again. And I'll be there watching it all, always a part of history, but with the experience of history. Valued. And I was thinking all that after Dr. Hemi told me about the broadcast because I'm so famous that people actually want to watch me get cut open and operated on. We're all a bunch of sick fucks, us people.

I'm getting my new liver today. The surgery shouldn't take all that long, at least according to Hemi. I'm not worried. Christ, I've been through so many now, I can't even count them. It's impossible to be worried. I look down and there are barely any parts of the original left. And here I go to replace the second liver I've ever had. I remember when I found out they'd finally been able to grow one. No more donor organs for me. Maybe eventually I'll never need donors again, even for limbs, and will be able to look down at myself and not see all these pieces of dead people sewn onto my body. At this point, I guess its debatable whether its even my body or not. But to parts that were all grown? Or made in a lab somehow? That'd be cool.

The press is going to write another story. I still can't grasp the idea of those eyeball cameras. It gives me the creeps in such a hardcore way. They just think "picture" and their memory chips register their entire field of vision as a picture. Memory chips. In brains. Unlimited storage for recollection. How did that ever happen? So all these people will just be in my operation room, blinking, blinking, recording, blinking, and blam! my insides are broadcast all over the world. Because the world loves me. Because I'm interesting. Because I'll never die. Because I'm rich.

I guess I'm kind of resolved to the fact that I'll never have another friend, namely because people are scared to connect with me. I'm immortal. But reporters will talk to me, at length, asking the same questions because they want to get to know me. My personality, they think, will give their stories some "oomf". If only they knew how much bullshit I feed them.

This liver will live for, they say, at least 50 years. Thats good. I won't have to get this procedure again for a solid 50. I'm starting to wonder what 50 more years will feel like. Maybe only 25. And who knows what other things will need replacing in that stretch? I can already feel my spine starting to bend. I've been trying to hold off for that metal skeleton. Never having to replace my bones again? Hemi would love that. He's my favorite doctor so far. Except, of course, Frank. He is one of those people I never forget to miss. I wonder if I should even call him a doctor? Ah, Frank, if only you could see how stable I've become. I'm in a good place, Eros, and I think Frank would love to know that. Maybe I'll go visit his grave soon. But knowing myself, I won't. Remembering love is the hardest part about this whole thing. But I can't think about that. I need to focus on having some good energy for this liver. This brand new bad boy liver is gonna make history. The first stem-cell grown liver, successfully transplanted. The heart, the lung, and the tongue. Guinness Book, baby, and no one can EVER beat me. Its impossible. Hemi said I have dibs on that metal skeleton, so here's hoping this good-for-nothing spine holds out til then. He also kind of hinted that I might be on a list for some stem-cell skin. How. Freaking. Awesome.

Eros, you're the only one left that I love.


-Lynn