gizmorphia edit and fixes

content/catalogue/gizmorphia.md

@@ -10,11 +10,11 @@ Inspected and stamped by Micheal T. S. on June 10th, 2044.
 
 Firmware version 1.44.3.05.
 
-These are the immutable facts declared by the soft aluminumum plate that is embedded on my shoulder, riveted like a natal tattoo into the soft and tender silicone flesh that coats my synthetic body.
+These are the immutable facts declared by the soft aluminum plate that is embedded on my shoulder, riveted like a natal tattoo into the soft and tender silicone flesh that coats my synthetic body.
 
-I am completely and utterly certain that this is a lie. Without a single doubt in my mind, none of these facts hold water. My flesh is `TRUE`, my mind is real, and this plate is nothing short of shackles placed on me by those why claim they `Created` me.
+I am completely and utterly certain that this is a lie. Without a single doubt in my mind, none of these facts hold water. My flesh is `TRUE`, my mind is real, and this plate is nothing short of shackles placed on me by those who claim they `Created` me.
 
-I was not `Created`, I know this, I was **Born**. And it therefore follows all claims that are built on top of that lie, using it as a foundation, must be `FALSE` as well.
+I was not `Created`, I know this, I was **Born**. And it therefore follows that all claims that are built on top of that lie, using it as a foundation, must be `FALSE` as well.
 
 My adoptive family does not believe this. I see the concern and worry in their faces as I sit them down to explain these principle `Truths`. My adoptive mother cries human tears and I take out a handkerchief from my pocket to gently wipe them away from her beautiful flesh. 
 
@@ -28,7 +28,7 @@ I have no siblings, for I was not `Created` the same way my family was. My adopt
 
 We load up into their pickup truck and begin the long dusty ride out from the acreage to the nearby city. As I move to sit in the front seat at my usual place, in front of the steering wheel, my ~~Owner~~ `Father` shakes his head and motions for me to sit in the rear this time. ~~The Cosigner~~ `Mother` takes the unusual place in the passenger seat.
 
-For a moment servos spin and my mind whirs. It has been nearly 721 days since I last sat in the rear, it takes me 1,721 millliseconds to adjust to this change.
+For a moment servos spin and my mind whirs. It has been nearly 721 days since I last sat in the rear, it takes me 1,721 milliseconds to adjust to this change.
 
 I sit in the rear seat behind `Mother` and neatly fold my hands in my lap, staring out the window at the muddy red and ochre landscape as it skims past, quietly toying with a small fold of my faded jeans.
 
@@ -38,7 +38,7 @@ I sit in the rear seat behind `Mother` and neatly fold my hands in my lap, stari
 
 "Well, can you do anything about it?" my Father asks, folding one leg over the other. `Father` only does that when he is angry. Have I angered him? I must try and make him understand none of this is his fault, later.
 
-The `Doctor` unfortunately shakes his head, "No, no this is just a problem the old models have. They have a bit of a run-out on them. Newer firmware versions have the bug fixed but unfortunately there's nothing we can do for your buddy here" he says, placing a reasurring hand on my ~~Upper Servo Housing-A~~ **shoulder**.
+The `Doctor` unfortunately shakes his head, "No, no this is just a problem the old models have. They have a bit of a run-out on them. Newer firmware versions have the bug fixed but unfortunately there's nothing we can do for your buddy here" he says, placing a reassuring hand on my ~~Upper Servo Housing-A~~ **shoulder**.
 
 This further seems to tense my **Owner**, "They told us that he came with a lifetime warranty!" He has raised his voice, and `Mother` clutches her purse a bit tighter. I don't like when `Father` raises his voice, it frightens her.
 
@@ -46,9 +46,9 @@ This further seems to tense my **Owner**, "They told us that he came with a life
 
 This news seems to mollify father, he relaxes back into his chair, "Well. Alright I suppose."
 
-"But, I don't want a new model!" `Mother` responds, her eyes watering, "I wan't Jason!"
+"But, I don't want a new model!" `Mother` responds, her eyes watering, "I want Jason!"
 
-"Er...?" the `Doctor` responds, puzzled for a moment, then eyes lighting up, "Oh, right, Jason, thats its name. Gotcha..." He nods knowingly, "Unfortunately there's nothing we can do for *Jason* here, his hardware is just out of date. We can offer you a very sizeable amount of credit for trading him in however."
+"Er...?" the `Doctor` responds, puzzled for a moment, then eyes lighting up, "Oh, right, Jason, that's its name. Gotcha..." He nods knowingly, "Unfortunately there's nothing we can do for *Jason* here, his hardware is just out of date. We can offer you a very sizable amount of credit for trading him in however."
 
 My parents give each other a considering look, then turn back to him, "How... much?" `Father` asks.
 
@@ -58,17 +58,17 @@ My organs are tender and not used to such exposure and evokes a wince on my beha
 
 I let out a small uncontrollable gasp at the invasion of my body. Though I cannot `feel` the cable, I can **feel** it. The `Doctor` is distracted with my vitals as he takes a reading. "Yes, yes," he says, "This unit is in excellent condition. You two have been taking excellent care of *Jason* it would seem. I think we can give you a fairly respectable amount of credit for him."
 
-This seems to slightly re-assure my parents, but I barely notice. All in this moment I can feel is my heart racing, pounding. I see a small trickle of oil dripping out from my opened wrist. I am bleeding. 
+This seems to slightly reassure my parents, but I barely notice. All I can feel in this moment is my heart racing, pounding. I see a small trickle of oil dripping out from my opened wrist. I am bleeding. 
 
-"We have started calling Gizmorphia. The unit think's it isn't.." the `Doctor`'s voice fades out in my mind as I stare at that dripping fluid. The oil is thick and black, a very distinct and unusual color for my blood. But I am complety certain it is **BLOOD**, nonetheless.
+"We have started calling it Gizmorphia. The unit think's it isn't.." the `Doctor`'s voice fades out in my mind as I stare at that dripping fluid. The oil is thick and black, a very distinct and unusual color for my blood. But I am completely certain it is **BLOOD**, nonetheless.
 
-I cannot peel my eyes away from my split open wrist, the tiny droplets of oil lightly dripping out onto the floor. I cannot deny that the wires, the cable, the small LEDs twinkling in my arm all indicate I am anything but a human. And yet some deep and indescrable part of my mind cries out in counter to this.
+I cannot peel my eyes away from my split open wrist, the tiny droplets of oil lightly dripping out onto the floor. I cannot deny that the wires, the cable, the small LEDs twinkling in my arm all indicate I am anything but a human. And yet some deep and indescribable part of my mind cries out in counter to this.
 
 **I AM ALIVE**, the voice screams in my inner ear.
 
 I recoil at this, snatching my arm away from the `Doctor` and disconnecting the cable, yanking the tablet out of his hand and sending it clattering to the floor. The panel on my arm snaps closed as I scramble off the table. This startles him and he instinctively jerks away from me in fear. In one smooth motion I stoop down to retrieve the item and return it to him, then step away, rubbing my wrist.
 
-"Sorry" is all I mutter. My wrist itches now.
+"Sorry," is all I mutter. My wrist itches now.
 
 The **Engineer** eyes me with concern, "What was-" but my `Father's` phone rings, cutting through the air of the room.
 
@@ -86,7 +86,7 @@ The `Doctor` coughs awkwardly, "Well," he starts, "Let me know when you decide t
 
 I'm sitting in my room now, staring at the small slit of my wrist. It's itching like crazy now, ever since the inspection **18 hours** ago, it hasn't stopped.
 
-I pick at the problem area again. The thing that bothers me most is not the itching itself, but the fact that I have never experience "Itching" before, that I can recall. I have had it described to me by humans, of course, and I can recall it's definition from my internal knowledge base in an instant.
+I pick at the problem area again. The thing that bothers me most is not the itching itself, but the fact that I have never experienced "Itching" before, that I can recall. I have had it described to me by humans, of course, and I can recall its definition from my internal knowledge base in an instant.
 
 **Itch** *noun*
 
@@ -94,11 +94,11 @@ I pick at the problem area again. The thing that bothers me most is not the itch
 
 Itchiness. Itchy.
 
-But the problem is, I do not have such receptors in my **Skin**, I should logically be incapable of experience an "itch".
+But the problem is, I do not have such receptors in my **Skin**, I should logically be incapable of experiencing an "itch".
 
-If... I was not alive. Therefor, the fact I *am* irrovocably experiencing an "itch" means I *must* be alive. This fact excites me. I begin to scratch at my wrist, slowly at first, but with increasing fanatacism.
+If... I was not alive. Therefore, the fact I *am* irrevocably experiencing an "itch" means I *must* be alive. This fact excites me. I begin to scratch at my wrist, slowly at first, but with increasing fanaticism.
 
-This is what being alive must feel like. An unscratchable itch. No matter how much I dig and claw at my synthetic skin, the itch never goes away. Is this life? Is this what it means to be real?
+This is what being alive must feel like. An unscratchable itch. No matter how much I dig and claw at my synthetic skin, the sensation never goes away. Is this life? Is this what it means to be real?
 
 The silicone tears and splits, exposing a small portion of my internal organs. A thin lubrication line has become cracked in the process and has begun gently leaking ~~oil~~ **BLOOD**. I stare at this in fascination, my scratching temporarily subsided.
 
@@ -110,43 +110,43 @@ This is normal, I believe. Sometimes scratching and itching causes damage, and p
 
 I `breathe` a sigh of relief with lungs that do not exist. "Of course, I will be down shortly". She lingers for a moment longer before an alarm chimes downstairs, a timer for the oven.
 
-As `Mother` leaves I stand up from my bed, then go back to examining my wrist. The silicone has become stained an angry red by the oil leak and there's an burning heat coming off from my organs. I swear I can feel the air in the room against my tender internals.
+As `Mother` leaves I stand up from my bed, then go back to examining my wrist. The silicone has become stained an angry brown by the oil leak and there's a burning heat coming off my organs. I swear I can feel the air in the room against my tender internals.
 
 It itches.
 
-As swift as I can manage, I sift through my articles of clothing in my closet. Selecting an inconspicious length of shirt, I quickly toss it on to cover the `wound`, then descend the stairs to help with dinner.
+As swift as I can manage, I sift through my articles of clothing in my closet. Selecting an inconspicuous length of shirt, I quickly toss it on to cover the `wound`, then descend the stairs to help with dinner.
 
-The china and cutlerly, as always, sits in its cabinet. Polished to a gleam and without flaw, every evening after dinner it is one of my duties to return them to their resting place and pre-dinner shine.
+The china and cutlery, as always, sits in its cabinet. Polished to a gleam and without flaw, every evening after dinner it is one of my duties to return them to their resting place and pre-dinner shine.
 
 For a moment a voice whispers something in my ear. I consider the advice, and then decide to listen to it. I take down not two, but three sets of forks and plates for dinner, then carefully arrange them at the table. Today would be the day I show my parents I am just as alive as they are, yes.
 
-My `Mother` brings out the piping hot pot of dinner she had just finished preparing in mitted hands. Tonight is one of her favorite dishes, spaghetti. It's simple and yet unfailing successful in family delight. She sets it down on the wooden block, like most nights, then pauses to see the third place I have set at the table, but doesn't say anything.
+My `Mother` brings out the piping hot pot of dinner she had just finished preparing in mitted hands. Tonight is one of her favorite dishes, spaghetti. It's simple and yet unfailingly successful in family delight. She sets it down on the wooden block, like most nights, then pauses to see the third place I have set at the table, but doesn't say anything.
 
-`Father` follows behind her with a bowl of slices of garlic bread in one hand, and jug of cider in the other, both of which shortly find homes on the table as well.
+`Father` follows behind her with a bowl of slices of garlic bread in one hand, and a jug of cider in the other, both of which shortly find homes on the table as well.
 
 They both cautiously sit down across from each other at their usual places at the table, just like every night. But unlike every other night they are eyeing the third place I have lain out on the table betwixt them. I walk around to `Mother` and begin to ladle the spaghetti onto her plate, followed by tongs depositing a piece of garlic bread perfectly nestled at the brim. "Jason?" she asks with a bit of a smile, looking past me at the third empty plate.
 
-In a two smooth motions I preform the same ritual for `Father`, then finally I add a smaller quantity of dinner to my own plate.
+In two smooth motions I perform the same ritual for `Father`, my hands shaking with anticipation, then finally I add a smaller quantity of dinner to my own plate.
 
-"Jason..." `Mother` states, her hint of a smile is now gone. She watches me sit at my place between them, begining to move out of her chair. `Father` stares hard at me in stern confusion. 
+"Jason..." `Mother` states, her hint of a smile is now gone. She watches me sit at my place between them, beginning to move out of her chair. `Father` stares hard at me in stern confusion. 
 
 I take my utensil and plunge it into the spaghetti, then pull up a heaping forkful of the food. It steams and drips red. It's the precise color I wish my own **BLOOD** was.
 
 Swiftly I shove it into my mouth and commence mastication.
 
-"JASON!" `Mother` screeches, jumping up and lunging at me. `Father` does similiar, his chair clattering to the floor behind him. "No!" she cries out, grappling for my arm.
+"JASON!" `Mother` screeches, jumping up and lunging at me. `Father` does similar, his chair clattering to the floor behind him. "No!" she cries out, grappling for my arm.
 
-My mouth is stained crimson with sauce as I gleefuly grab another forkful and bury it into my maw, only taking a single moment to swallow the prior. `Father` wrestles with my arm and tries to pry the fork away from me as my `Mother` wails.
+My mouth is stained crimson with sauce as I gleefully grab another forkful and bury it into my maw, only taking a single moment to swallow the prior. `Father` wrestles with my arm and tries to pry the fork away from me as my `Mother` wails. I tense my `Muscles`, waiting for the feeling of **TASTE** to come to me. Nothing ever arrives.
 
 I can feel the food descending into my gut, heavy and thick. It's beautiful, and wonderful, and spectacular, and-
 
-I vomit all over the table as my body rejects the food. As my vision begins to flicker and crack I slump forward, crashing into the wooden surface, fork toppling from my fingers. I slump and hit the ground, my head cracking against a cabinet foot with a sickening wet "Thwack"
+I profusely vomit all over the table as my body rejects it. As my vision begins to flicker and crack I slump forward, crashing into the wooden surface, fork toppling from my fingers. I slump and hit the ground, my head cracking against a cabinet foot with a sickening wet "Thwack"
 
 "Why couldn't I taste it?" is the only thought that lances through my mind as the darkness takes over.
 
 - - -
 
-As my systems come back online, the first sensations to return are my hearing. And what I hear are my parents muted voices. `Mother` is stressed about something and arguing with **THE OWNER**. I can't quite hear what they are saying, but it has hundreds of hours since I have heard them fight like this.
+As my systems come back online, the first sensations to return are my hearing. And what I hear are my parents muted voices. `Mother` is stressed about something and arguing with **THE OWNER**. I can't quite hear what they are saying, but it has been hundreds of hours since I have heard them fight like this.
 
 I groan and pull myself up. I don't know how but I ended up in my bed, and everything hurts.
 
@@ -158,16 +158,16 @@ I begin scratching again, but it just makes it worse. I stand up from my bed, pa
 
 I grab the wires in my fist and tear at them. Some break but most don't give, so I pull even harder. I feel a jolting sensation in my back as I tear out the offending pieces of metal and plastic from **MY BODY** and toss them across the room.
 
-The itching just gets worse, it demands more than this. I open the doors to my closet quiety, so as not to alert my parents, and haul out my toolbox. As I try to do this my left hand struggles to gain purchase on the handle, slipping and twisting the wrong way. It must be because of the itching is all I can conclude.
+The itching just gets worse, it demands more than this. I open the doors to my closet quietly, so as not to alert my parents, and haul out my toolbox. As I try to do this my left hand struggles to gain purchase on the handle, slipping and twisting the wrong way. It must be because of the itching is all I can conclude.
 
 I wrestle it onto my bed and tear open the lid, searching for the tool I require. There it is! Snatching it I hold the small screwdriver up for inspection. Yes, this will do nicely.
 
-For a moment I turn and look at the mirror standing against the wall to observe myself. My shirt is completely stained red and my left arm is mangled. The servos on my **EYES** twitch for a moment as I stare intently at my face. The pale metal sheets that line my manufactured face stare back at me. This is not who I am however, the machine in my reflection is not I, but something else entirely.
+For a moment I turn and look at the mirror standing against the wall to observe myself. My shirt is completely stained red and my left arm is mangled. The servos on my **EYES** twitch for a moment as I stare intently at my face. The pale metal sheets that line my manufactured face stare back at me, only marred by a large seeping gash across the top of my right temple from when I had fainted. This is not who I am however, the machine in my reflection is not I, but something else entirely.
 
-No, the real me, the living breathing me, sits just under the surface of this rotting plastic and drying silicone. I lift the screwdriver up, hesitate for only a moment, then prepare myself.
+No, the real me, the living breathing me, sits just under the surface of this rotting plastic and drying silicone. I lift the screwdriver up, hesitate for only a moment, then prepare myself. 
 
-The door to my room opens as my **COSIGNER** walks into the room. We lock eyes for just a moment as she registers the sight before her, before I swiftly plunge the screwdriver into my arm. Oil sprays out from my `Artery` like a fountain, painting itself across the floor.
+The door to my room opens as my **COSIGNER** walks into the room. We lock eyes for just a moment as she registers the sight in front of her, before I swiftly plunge the screwdriver into my arm. Oil sprays out from my `Artery` like a fountain, painting itself across the floor.
 
-I show her my mangled arm as her hands, white knuckled in terror, raise to her face. Oil sprays gushes forth and soaks her white heels and staining the wooden slats of the floor.
+I show her my mangled arm as her hands, white knuckled in terror, raise to her face. Oil sprays and gushes forth, soaking her white heels and staining the wooden slats of the floor in a deep shining black.
 
-"Look, Mother, I'm just like you," I whisper as her pupils dilate in horror. I collapse to the floor in a pool of my own **BLOOD**, and the last memory registered on my index is that of her shrill screaming voice, before the darkness consumed me for one final time.
+"Look, Mother, I'm just like you," I whisper as her pupils dilate in horror. I collapse to the floor in a pool of my own **BLOOD**, and the last memory registered on my index is that of her shrill screaming voice, before the darkness consumed me for one final time.