Microserfs

by Douglas Coupland

“They injected all sorts of isotopes into me and I found myself part of a literal body/machine system—being bodily radioactive—and inserted like a fuel rod into a body-scanning machine. I remember saying, to myself, ‘So this is the feeling of being a machine.’ I felt more curious about death than I felt afraid; I felt glad to be no longer human for a few brief minutes.” “Was there a blood clot?” I asked. “No. Simple sunstroke. And the feeling of my being a machine evaporated quickly, too. But the whole incident made me decide to discover my body, pronto. Here,” she said, scratching my tender inner forearms lightly with her fingernails, sending me into paroxysms of delight. “How does that feel?” “Glrmmph.” “Just as I thought. People who do repetitive work on keyboards tend to have highly erogenous forearms and shoulder cuffs. Now, you scratch me.” I did, and then we scratched forearms together, and I felt like the two of us were in a nature documentary on mating African veld animals.