I cracked my tooth on a nacho and now I’m a cyborg. The transition to becoming mechanically better than everyone else was difficult and full of pain. But in the end, it has been worth it for a piece of me will live forever. That piece is, of course, my new fake tooth.
I’m not the six-million-dollar man. More like the two-thousand-dollar man. My dentist, part of a secret government conspiracy meant to create the man of tomorrow, used a pair of pliers that I’m pretty sure came out of her garage. She yanked the substandard part of humanity right out of my mouth. Then, she took a drill that looked like something NASA developed and began the transformation.
Part of my bone has been replaced with a metal post, so in a way, you can say that I’m just like Wolverine now as I have metal almost grafted to my skeleton. That makes me almost indestructible. For example, if I go down in a plane crash, my tooth will survive and live forever. That metal post is threaded and will accept a screw soon. On top of that screw will be the best tooth medicine technology that two-thousand dollars can buy.
It’s tough being better than everyone else. The sunrises look ordinary to me now. An act of the Lord that can’t be as perfect as my new tooth. Sunsets are beautiful in their simple way but can’t compare to the machined awesomeness in my mouth.
The next question that I have to answer is what to do with my newfound dental power. The obvious answer is to become a superhero. I could fight crime, inspire the population, doing public service announcements on public access television. But that seems kind of boring.
The supervillain route may contain more excitement. Rule by fear and force the world to change into the dystopian nightmare that it deserves. A place where dental insurance actually covers dental work and dentists don’t want to see you cry. There’s a lot going for the supervillain route, but it does seem like a lot of work.
With great power comes great responsibility. That is the saying. But does it? I don’t think so. Like any superior being, I just want to be left to live my life. I want to be able to go to the grocery store without signing autographs. Or just sit at home and ponder the greater mysteries of life, such as why does my dentist need tears? Is it sustenance with them? Do they calories every time my gums bleed? Are dentists the true supervillains of the world? If so, I want no part of that. They terrify me.
I have my final procedure next month to complete my cyborgness. This is where I receive my upgraded tooth. It’s more than a crown or a dental implant. It is the product of millions of years of evolution that culminates into me. I leave behind the old human form and take the next great step for humanity. I’ve asked that there be no fan fair and no parades but won’t be disappointed if I do get one. But please, my family and I ask for privacy in this exciting time. I’ll hold a news conference sometime in the future.
I will instruct my public relations team to release publicity photos though because the paparazzi can never get enough. My social media team, which is my teenage daughter, will make posts to all the relevant platforms. Please feel free to take screenshots and use them as your phone background.
And finally, to my detractors. I can hear you whispering out there. Or I will be able to. I’ve asked my mad scientist dentist to enhance my tooth with the internet, voice recognition, and a mint flavor. I should be able to pick up all your conversations like a one-man NSA.
I know that there are rumors already circulating that all that is happening is that I’m getting old and lost a tooth. That soon I will be nothing but an old man gumming a banana as I use my joints to predict the weather. And I can also hear all of you saying that I’m suddenly terrified of my own mortality. Hogwash, as my grand-pappy used to say.
I’m not getting older, I’m getting enhanced. And this is the first step. I’m sure that in a few years, I’ll also get a new cyborg hip, knee, and probably more teeth. Does that sound like I’m afraid of getting older? Absolutely not. I’m embracing my cyborg culture and becoming whom I was meant to be.
Many of us don’t know what tomorrow may bring. But again, I’m no longer like the rest of you. I am something better. A being that has transcended the normal bonds of mortality. Pieces of me will live on for thousands and thousands of years and may very well end up in a pawn shop or scrap yard. All I can say is to believe in yourself, believe in your dreams, and that there is no shame in getting up three times a night to go to the bathroom. Even us cyborgs have to deal with that one.
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This Post is republished on Medium.
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Photo credit: iStock