My Cardboard Balcony

Experiments X & O by Belinda Roddie Our words are not an exact science: Sure, the language sounds similar, but in the end, we speak in code that updates as we evolve. And we evolve quickly, by God. We transcend the boundaries of organic matter and carbon. You and I turn silicon into a sentient form - we create heat when we touch. We kiss, and sparks fly literally and figuratively. We feel pain and sorrow without the need for the chemical soup that brews in humans' rubbery cerebral cortices. We are alive, and the lab results cannot fully explain us. But they have produced us. And they have tested us. And soon, we will be approved.

"What does this mean?" "What?" "What the Hell does this mean?" "What does what mean?" " This!" He angrily thrust his essay in my face. The red pen stood out like an angry sneer, the letters legible and clear as it presented his failing grade. "What does this mean?" I blinked at him. The fingers twitched on my right hand; I felt them do so. "What does an F mean?" " Yes!" I gaped at him. "How long have you been in school? Figure it out."