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I was born into the world the usual way. My parents were happily married and excitedly expecting their first child… me. But something went wrong. My mother went into labor over a month early. The doctors warned her that the early labor could cause a miscarriage. At the very sound of losing me, she panicked and had a heart attack. The doctors urgently revived her and told her that she was dying unless she took some medication. They warned her that the medication would save her life, but would be fatal to me, the baby inside her. My father told the doctors to give her the medication, but my mother refused. She died so I could live.

My father never forgave me for my mother’s death. As soon as she was buried and I was out of the hospital, he fell into a spiraling depression. He began taking various drugs, most of them illegal, and started losing his temper often.

As soon as I could walk, my father started leaving me home alone a lot. Sometimes it was for hours, sometimes it was a few days. I can even remember him leaving me home for a week once. Eventually, my aunt started sneaking over to our house and would feed me and take care of me. When I was six, though, she died of cancer.

As soon as I was four, my father enrolled me in preschool. He never drove me to school, and never drove me home. I had to ride the city bus every day, and at my age, it was dangerous thing to do.

Although home was a troublesome place for me, my popularity in school skyrocketed from the start. I’m not really sure why… Maybe it was because of my over-sized sunglasses, which I always wore to hide the black eyes I would receive during my father’s outburst of rage.

By the time I was in junior high, I was considered one of the coolest guys in school. I would always lean against a wall chewing on a toothpick in my sleeveless jean jacket and sunglasses, which were still too big for me. The girls would always crowd around me and attempt to flirt.

After junior high, I moved on to high school and eventually learned to drive. Are ready for the real story to start? Are you sure? Well, here it is. My story.

I was16 when the accident happened. I was driving my father to some bar because his license was suspended.

“God dang it Ace! Where’d you learn to drive?” My dad screamed at me in his Boston/western accent.

“You taught me! Stop shouting! You’re making me nervous!” I yelled as I took a sharp turn to the left.

“Ace! Don’t you talk back to me!” He yelled, slapping me in the back of the head.

My name is Andy Carter. Everyone used to call me A. C., but eventually, they started calling me Ace. I got so used to it that when someone would say “Andy” or “Andrew”, I wouldn’t know who they were talking to. Eventually, my dad even caught on too.

“Ace! The light is red! Stop! Red means stop!” My dad shouted again.

“I know dad! The truck isn’t moving! Stop shouting!”

“The light is green now! Watch the road, not me! Drive!”

“Just shut up! You’re the one whose license is suspended! Not me!” I kept my hands on the steering wheel as my dad hit the back on my head again.

“Alright, now turn up here. God Dang it Ace! You missed the turn! Dang it!”

I was already past the turn when you told me to!” I turned on the next block. By now, my hands were clenched on the steering wheel in an angry death grip. I passed a Corvette in my dad’s old Ford pickup and waited for him to give further instructions.

“Drive straight for awhile. I’ll tell ya when to turn.” He spat out the window and coughed. I just nodded in agreement and kept driving. I noticed a semi truck with a gas tank trailer coming towards us.

The next part seemed to happen in slow motion. Suddenly, a speeding Mustang sped towards the semi truck. The truck swerved and nearly collided with our truck. I quickly swerved, but collided with the Mustang, and my dad was thrown through the windshield. The car hit the gas tanker. I quickly jumped out of the truck to help my dad, but the gasoline spewed out the tanker and drenched me.

"Dad? Dad where are you?" I was screaming like bloody murder. The horrible stench of gasoline stung my eyes and nostrils. "Dad? Answer me! I can't see anything! Where are you?" I was reaching out for something to grab. Tears welled in my eyes. The sound of car horns and sirens blared around me.

Then the worst thing happened. The Mustang exploded, igniting the trail of gasoline, leading to me. The tanker blew up too, and a huge, firy explosion launched me nearly 20 feet. The heat was incredable! My skin, hair, and clothes were all on fire. I fell to the ground, burning, screaming, and swearing.

I died.


Or so I thought…

The next thing I remembered, I thought I was dreaming. All I could see was blackness, but then, out of the darkness, appeared a flashing word. It said “Rebooting…”, and directly below it was what looked to be a computer loading bar. The bar reached its 100 percent point and I woke up.

I was lying on my back and staring at a ceiling. I seemed to be in an old abandoned warehouse, but I wasn’t sure because I couldn’t move. I attempted to lift my arm, but a voice stopped me.

“Please do not attempt to struggle, Mr. Carter.” It said in a British accent.

“W-who’s there? W-why can’t I move?” I asked through clenched teeth, unable to move my jaw.

“Please relax. You are simply restrained by titanium bars. It is much too dangerous for you to be up and about; your body is still running a system check.” The voice seemed to be coming from somewhere to my left.

“System check? What are you talking about? Who are you?” I was beginning to raise my voice in both annoyance and fear.

“All in good time, my newly reengineered son, but first, please tell me. What do you remember? About the crash, I mean.”

“Crash?” It all came back to me. The crash, the explosions, and the pain. “How… how am I alive? I was on fire! How did I get here? Tell me!” I began twisting and turning.

“Calm down. I brought you here, of course.” He said as if I should have known. “Now, please stop struggling until the system check is complete.”

I stopped squirming and sighed. “Fine. After this ‘system check’ thing, then you answer my questions, but could you at least let me see you?”

“Very well.” The flat surface that I was laying on rotated and started humming and tilting upward. It stopped at about 75 degrees. Sitting in front of me was a man sipping tea. “Hello Mr. Carter. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Cornelius James Soul. To some, I am the most intelligent man to ever live. To others, I am just a foolish inventor and scientist. You may decide for yourself.”

He looked to me to be about 45 years old. His head was bald and shiny, and he was wearing a ripped up, oil-splattered lab coat and faded blue jeans. He was probably about six feet tall. I was going to say something smart about his appearance, but a beep heard throughout the room cut me off.

“Well, sounds like your system check has finished” Soul said, sipping from his cup. “Care for some tea?”

“Um… could you let me out of here? Please?” I was starting to get annoyed.

“Get out yourself.” Soul said casually.

“What? Me? Break the titanium? No way.”

Soul sipped more tea. “Just try. Humor me.”

I sighed and started struggling to bend or break the bars. With no success, by the way.

“Try again.” Soul said, glancing at a computer monitor.

I got angry then. I pointed my finger straight at him. “Look man! I don’t know who…” I stopped talking when I saw my arm. It had broken free. But, it wasn’t my arm.

My hand was not the hand I had before the crash. It was metal, rectangular, and blue-gray in color. I layed there staring at it.