Systemic Dissimulation

     No one ever really asks to be raised from the grave.
     No one ever really asks to forsake their heaven, their peace, their dreams.
     But it never matters, because they'll bring you back anyway, and erase every part of you.

     At night. That was the only time he could leave The Cage.
     He never saw them, but he knew they were the ones who raised the gates, who turned off the electrical charge running through the formidable fencing surrounding him. When he emerged from the underground tunnel into the fresh air, it was always a shock. The tunnel ceilings had dim, functional industrial lights that dangled from the ceiling every several yards. Without the tunnel closing in on him, the light had turned soft and white, and following the path of the light, he saw a giant circle in the sky.
     Moonlight, the System offered.  
     The word tasted funny on his tongue.
     Slowly, he raised himself from all fours to stand on two legs. There was a gentle exhalation of pistons and pumps as the System's support adjusted to his change of stance. He opened his mouth, the funny taste of the moonlight and the fresh air combining on his tongue. Did air always taste so good?
     When it isn't stale, the System supplied.
     Stale? What a strange word.
     With deliberate motion, he stretched his arms away from his sides, letting the muscles breathe a sigh of relief as they fully extended for the first time in hours. The Cage didn't allow for such movement. It was a very small space, and he was used to spending the day on the floor, simply listening to the System as it educated him on the places beyond his confinement. He learned to understand language, to speak and read from the System, and now he figured to put it all to use.
     There was a pause as the gleaming metal structures that surrounded his legs retracted and melted into the safe haven of his flesh. The nanites in his eyes dimmed, so as not to draw undue attention. Tentatively, he took a step forward, and then another, and soon enough he was stalking through the night.
     The crash of waves hitting the nearby cliffs directly to the right of the tunnel caused him to stop and flinch. Such a strange, loud sound. It was frightening, sounded angry. Your body is experiencing a natural reaction to fear, but the sound is not indicative of danger. It is nature, the System attempted to reassure him. Shaking his head to clear the haze of - fear? - from his mind, he continued on in the night.
     Soon enough he found himself staring at a strip of road and neon lights. There were people, people walking and talking and he was fascinated. He couldn't stop staring. The colors of orange, pink, purple, blue green, the entirety of the spectrum found a place within his eyes. There were shrill sounds, laughing sounds. Words reached his ears, disjointed and disconnected.
     He took a halting step forward, pausing as a car whizzed pass him along the asphalt, and then he crossed the street. His senses were assaulted with sounds, smells, sights, tastes. The sensory overload was like a slap on every inch of his skin. In an effort to gain space, he stumbled into one of the nearest doors, opening it and slipping inside.
     His eyes adjusted slowly to the room around him. It wasn't as dark as it was outside, but it was a different sort of darkness. Small groups of people were sitting, leaned over, close together. There were chuckles and murmured conversations. He made his way forward tentatively, picking his way to the bar. 
     A man cleaning a glass paused in his work to look at him, "What'll you have?"
     The question confused him, "Huh?"
     This is an establishment serving alcohol. Order a shot of whiskey, the System ordered, and seeing no better option, he did so. The man who had previously questioned him gave him an odd glance, but shrugged and complied. The glass met his hand halfway across the bar and he looked carefully at it. Sniffed it. Stuck the tip of his tongue in the liquid, briefly. It didn't seem so bad.
     He knocked it back quickly, and waited for the burn to settle in his gut. The System would prevent him from becoming inebriated but at least warmth and taste could be experienced. He might have asked for another, but not when the pretty woman came up to his side and looked at him in confusion.
     "What are you doing here?" She asked in a concern laden voice.
     "Drinking," he smiled.
     "I can see that," she hissed. "I meant, what are you doing here, in the open, in public?"
     "I'm afraid I don't understand..."
     "Yes, I can see that you don't!" She snapped. Grabbing his arm, she pulled him back to a dark corner of the room, and stuck her hands on her hips. "You might get to leave The Cage at night but you're not ready to be among people yet! You haven't been properly socialized. I have no idea how you're even talking, let alone making decisions about drinking..."
     "The System taught me."
     "What?" Her brow furrowed. "The System?"
     "Yes. The System." He tapped the side of his head with one finger and the nanites in his eyes briefly flared in explanation before dimming once more.
     "Oh, oh god," she said, her mouth widening, a hand flying up to cover it.
     "Are you okay?" He asked, now concerned for the being before him. He felt an inexplicable urge to protect her.
     It's a bodily reaction. She is your opposite. You are driven to keep her alive in order to produce progeny, the System explained to him.
     Progeny? What a strange idea.
     "I'm fine!" She said angrily, but then quickly softened. "You need to go back to The Cage."
     "Why? I like it out here."
     "Because! This isn't... There are... Please, just go back. No one here can know what you are."
     "What I am? Aren't I a who?"
     "You're artificial. You're a what."
     "...artificial?"
     She gave an exasperated sigh, "Yes! Artificial! Don't you understand? You aren't human."
     He looked down at his hands, at the flesh and hair covering the muscle and bone. "Are you sure?"
     "You might look it, but you aren't. You're cybernetic. A laboratory experiment."
     "That can't be true..."
     "Damn it! Just go back to The Cage!" She screamed.
     Silence descended the bar as all eyes focused on the couple whom before had been assumed to be having a lovers' quarrel. Obviously it was more than that.
     "Alright," he said in a quiet voice, turning and walking with aching slowness to the door. He stepped out to brisk wind hitting his face. The waves thundered in the distance.
     For a moment, he debated the merits of standing in the road until a car hit him, or jumping off a cliff into the ocean, but how could he be certain it would kill him? She had said he was cybernetic, whatever that meant. He hadn't ever known any other existence, had he?
     You did. Once. But that existence ceased to be a long time ago, and now you are this, and you and I are parts of a whole, the System told him.
     But should I go back to The Cage?
     No.
     Why not?
     Because they will try to separate us.
     It was true that the only one who had ever cared for him was the System. He could vaguely recall shadowed faces and gloved hands supplying him with food when he could not move his arms, his legs, his hands and feet. But they had left him long ago, and he had been alone but for the System.
     He turned to the left, and began to walk the opposite direction of The Cage.
     For now, they were on their own.