Loft of an Eldritch Metaphor

going to US: personal statement 1

Posted on 27 Nov 2014

I pull an all-nighter again. Having caffeinated beverages at my disposal, a long night filled with slumber is hardly an option when there are a lot of tasks and projects need to be done. Datelines are intimidating. But, the project under my fingers right now calls for an urgent fixation.

On my right, there’s a body lying on the stretcher with saline solution dripping from the bag. She’s dying as the clock ticking. I’m too scared to lose the only little sister I have, and right now I’m pouring an unprecedented level of efforts to save her life. On my left, as I glance sidelong, there are four personal computers blinking with blue screens, waiting to be fixed. Those are my computers and all of them are infected with ferocious computer virus. Computer virus is not a big deal. I can deal with it single-handedly.

As I’m holding tools for stitching, I’m wringing out my brain to make sure that she can breathe again. The blinking screens of the computers spark an idea: I could disassemble parts of the computers and turning them into a mechanical flesh, implant them into my sister. That idea is really ingenious, but I fear it is going to take too much time. Time is the luxury that I do not have at the moment. Attaching robotic organs could help, but with manpower of a person, I’m inclined towards the negative thoughts.

I try to clear the fog that have clouded my mind. I get out from my office and walk to the kitchen at the end of the corridor, striding through the brain imaging room. Brain imaging room with a Functional Magnetic Resonance Imaging, or fMRI. Bingo! A fMRI. Like a child, I scamper back to my office and push the stretcher to the brain imaging room.

If my hunch was right, I would be able to lease a new life for my dying little sister. All I need is to scan her brain, and using a certain specific algorithm I can imprint her thoughts, personality, and consciousness into arrays of digital codes, and run the codes in my computer. It is like having a voice assistant application on your smartphone, except it is a digitalized living soul.

With the zest to bring my little sister back to my side, I carefully thrust every fingers onto the keyboard, writing a program that can contain my sister’s consciousness. Then, I put her into the fMRI, let the machine scans her brain. This will take time, but I’m asserting myself that everything will be fine. My love for her shall be the pendant of luck that will bring her again into this world.