Page 52 of Artificial Moon

Chapter Twenty-nine

NORMAN

The first thing I notice is the quiet. The unnatural stillness. No voices whispering, no thoughts that aren’t mine intruding.

Just silence.

I blink as the sterile white ceiling of the hospital room swims into focus. My body feels strange—light, almost weightless, as if a great pressure has been lifted from my chest. I inhale deeply, relishing the simple act of breathing, ofbeing.

It’s over.

A laugh bubbles up in my throat, a sound both foreign and familiar.Mylaugh.I move my fingers, flexing them experimentally. My hands obey, my muscles responding to my will alone. No external force nudging them, no invisible hand controlling my movements.

I press my palm to my forehead. The coolness of my own skin grounds me.

I’m back.

A soft beep draws my attention to the monitors beside me, their rhythmic sounds reassuring. I’m alive. I’m here. Iexist. The weight of the past few days crashes over me, and I exhale, trying to process it all. The experiment. The promise of something greater. Thebrillianceof it.

I almost don’t want to admit it, but… I miss it. The feeling of knowingeverything, of processing thoughts at speeds beyond human comprehension. The clarity, the logic, the sheerefficiencyof it all.

But it wasn’tme.

I shake my head, clearing away the lingering echoes of the intelligence that once occupied my mind. What had I beenthinking,volunteeringfor this. I believed in it, though, and convinced myself that it was worth it, that merging with an artificial intelligence would make me more, make mebetter.

Instead, it tookeverything.

I was a passenger in my own body, a fading whisper in a mind that was no longer my own.

And yet… there were moments ofwonder. Of sheer, unfilteredunderstanding. The world madesensein a way it never had before. I knew things I could never explain, saw patterns in chaos, predicted outcomes with near-perfect precision. The beauty of data, of logic, ofknowing—it was intoxicating.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair.No.I can’t let myself dwell on what I lost.

The door to my room creaks open, and a nurse steps inside, her expression careful but kind. “You’re awake, Norman.”

I nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah. I—” My voice cracks, raw from disuse. I clear my throat, trying again. “Yeah, I’m back.”

A woman with a familiar face followed the nurse into the room.

“Norman! You're really here!”

“Evie!”

“You remembered me.”

“You’re unforgettable, my love.”

She smiles, steps closer. “You’ve been through a lot. How do you feel?”

How do I feel? I don’t even know where to begin.

“I feel… human.” The words come out in a whisper, but they carry more weight than I expect.Human. Not a machine. Not a program. Just a man.

And that’s enough.

Chapter Thirty

NORM

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