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Description

Audio version: youtu.be/hKY9bt0F3uo
Ecumenopolis — that's what they call it, when most of the land is covered with a vast city, home to 30 billion citizens. The word sounds Greek, but I bet there is no Greece now, no US or Germany or France. There is just this world-city. I couldn't find a map. I can't see the stars in the hazy sky. I don't know if I'm still in Seattle or somewhere else. The robots aren't very talkative.
They thawed me out. They temporarily fixed me. They gave me my clothes, my camera, and my computer. They even replaced the batteries in them with wireless power receivers. They gave me a watch, only showing the time, some indices of nearby streets and buildings, and my bank account. Yes, I was given a sum in their currency. I have yet to find out how much that is. And they gave me time to think. "You have between a year and 3 years," the robot said, "Before you need further medical intervention. Think." Yes, I have to think. But I'm too confused to make decisions, so I'll use the time I have.
I found this terrace overlooking the endless city. It's a strange sight. It's hardly frightening, but it isn't calming either. I thought it would help me concentrate, but it's making it even more difficult. The choice sounds simple, the decision seems hard. They can heal me time after time, for a lot of money. It's more affordable to replace parts of my body and become a cyborg like many here. And it's even cheaper to become a robot. No human parts at all. An uploaded mind in a metal machine.
Will I run out of money if I wait for too long? Will I have to slowly become one of them, piece by piece? Will I, human, find a job in a world of robots to pay for prolonging my life? Or will I choose death over eternally observing this skyline? After all, I was dead until yesterday. This will hardly be anything new.

Description

Audio version: youtu.be/hKY9bt0F3uo
Ecumenopolis — that's what they call it, when most of the land is covered with a vast city, home to 30 billion citizens. The word sounds Greek, but I bet there is no Greece now, no US or Germany or France. There is just this world-city. I couldn't find a map. I can't see the stars in the hazy sky. I don't know if I'm still in Seattle or somewhere else. The robots aren't very talkative.
They thawed me out. They temporarily fixed me. They gave me my clothes, my camera, and my computer. They even replaced the batteries in them with wireless power receivers. They gave me a watch, only showing the time, some indices of nearby streets and buildings, and my bank account. Yes, I was given a sum in their currency. I have yet to find out how much that is. And they gave me time to think. "You have between a year and 3 years," the robot said, "Before you need further medical intervention. Think." Yes, I have to think. But I'm too confused to make decisions, so I'll use the time I have.
I found this terrace overlooking the endless city. It's a strange sight. It's hardly frightening, but it isn't calming either. I thought it would help me concentrate, but it's making it even more difficult. The choice sounds simple, the decision seems hard. They can heal me time after time, for a lot of money. It's more affordable to replace parts of my body and become a cyborg like many here. And it's even cheaper to become a robot. No human parts at all. An uploaded mind in a metal machine.
Will I run out of money if I wait for too long? Will I have to slowly become one of them, piece by piece? Will I, human, find a job in a world of robots to pay for prolonging my life? Or will I choose death over eternally observing this skyline? After all, I was dead until yesterday. This will hardly be anything new.