This message is configurable.

Everything is now configurable. Don’t like the color of you eyes? Switch them. Why not grow an entire new body? Twelve hours for cell growth required to keep a perfect twenty-something body.

No Hassle. No Mess. The new motto.

There came a time when he decided to switch bodies each day of the week.
Monday — a sassy female
Tuesday — Old man (with flabby ass cheeks)
Wednesday — crooning jazz singing black female, late fifties, as required
Thursday — an older version of himself
Friday — a younger version of himself
Weekend — an electronic bitwise combination

Himself here means nothing. Consciousness has been reduced to electronic signals for years.

****

Say, why not put your brain in a robot body? Might only stand five foot nothing; advantages exist yet. Senses are meaningless. Only signals to the brain. Wishing to have sex? No longer would a partner be a prerequisite. Run a program (preinstalled on all robot bodies) and you feel, see, hear, everything sex with a beautiful, gorgeous, programmed woman.

Had a conversation about this the other late night. She said never. Sex wouldn’t be fun. Of course, she’s wrong. It would be too good. The perfect orgasm every time gets old. I’ve had over five hundred and now can’t enjoy the mechanized senses. Too good. Sometimes I just want to do it the old fashion way. That’s illegal for robots with human brains. Computer robots just don’t want to try. Feelings of the flesh, desire. They can’t feel desire and I can’t anymore either.

****

There came a time when he tried to put his brain back in a human body. He hoped the procedure would help him feel desire. Wrong procedure. The hurt of pain, frustration, everything human overwhelmed his crumbling conscience. Tragic tale.