Silicon, Remastered

If I strip out all the silicon there will be nothing in it for you, said Dr Sheba to the Silicon Man, you will be an empty husk, with no husk.

The Silicon Man had made request to regain or revitalise his original identity, sorely missed by excess enhancement. Even unto his hips and knees and teeth.

We must discover a new you, or a new version of the original. Do you have, about your person, on a storage stick, or in hard copy, any photos of yourself on Flatbook or Housemove? she asked.

It must be a passport size photo, with no earrings, dark glasses or drunken friends in the background, sticking out their tongues or holding up fingers in a position that purports to mean something but actually means nothing.

I have a drawing on a scroll of parchment, designed by my daughter when she was but four years wise, which I particularly, but it is fashioned in crayon and paint splodge. Will that?

Sounds intriguing, Sheba enjoyed the child’s picture with her eyes. Yes, I think we can work with this, she said, scanning it into the 4d printer.

The Silicon man was reduced into raw materials, after a download of his mental state had been recorded onto hard memory and soft backup there.

Sheba set the settings to JPG 3D, and fastened her seatbelt, placed her cup in the cup holder provided and pressed the enter button. Nothing happened for a few moments, the clouds moved a little way across the sky, the earth turned upon its axis, two more socks were pegged out upon the washing line and a know it all posted another lie on social media. Then, just when Dr Sheba was about to try and restart, all hell let loose. The printer, about the same size as an ancient telephone kiosk, began to rattle across the floor and the upper section began to glow with health.

After a veritable dinner dance around the consultation suite, the printer settled to a dull roar and the main door at the back sprung open. Out came the new silicon man, brand sparkling new, dressed in crayon line and paint splodge, resplendent indeed.

I am surely myself once more, he said, looking up and down in a full mirror. I shall go out and make my way in the world, many thanks Dr Sheba.

No problem, said she, do you want the spare?

Spare what?

The spare silicon left over, it is yours to create.

Well, said the Silicon, looking to the inspirational sky, I might create man’s best friend, the tortoise, I’ve always. Or maybe an extra limb to help with the shopping. I could create a new creature, unknown to science, that can compute problems at an unlikely rate and write mandarin. I could fashion twelve mice that would be trained in synchronised swimming with diamante nose clips. A miniature wolf or ibex, a giant sparrow or lizard. The possibilities are endless, can I take some time to consider and get back to you?

Of course, said Sheba, I will keep the spare silicon in the fridge.

Returning, I have made my choices, he said, I would make a Shield for Heroes, such that when the lovers stand by the wall, and the guards shoot over their heads, then they will utilise the Shield of Heroes and feel less frightened.

If I supply the coordinates and specifications, would it be possible to include some very special powers in the manufacture. I would also make a water container with perfect insulation, both hot and cold.

But of course, gestured Dr Sheba, this 4d printer is extremely gregarious and versatiles for the roof.

The 3D printer was polished, and the spare silicon embedded within. Sheba fussed over the keyboard beneath the wind cowling.

So, she said, turning to the Silicon Stick man, apart from the Coincidence Shielding what special powers would you endorse and secrete within the Hero’s Shield.

I have made a short list, said the Silicon Man, unfolding a list, long enough to make me laugh.

A data base of healthy recipes, he read, a homing device, drone wings, indestructible carapace, anti-fouling paint, a range of over three hundred miles, fusion powered drainage, starter pack, backup plan, firewall, water wall, stone wall, water fall, front crawl, southern drawl and shopping mall.

No problem said Sheba, tapping in the simple instructions, she hit the go button and stood back.

Fire in the hole, she cried, and then laughed, Not really, she said, rearranging her clever hair.

Soon the Hero’s Shield fell out the door of the printer and the Silicon man took it up. It was encased in the shape of the small figure of a cow. Not unlike a toy cow that lives in a box of animals for child’s play.

I shall return later for the water container, said the Silicon Stick, I am keen to test out the qualities of this Shield, as it may be a game changer in the balance between reasoned argument and emotional blackmail.