Except from preface:
“Can you tell from my writing this if I am blood human or machined human? Am I a
man, woman, neuter, or mix of either? If you harm me, will I be concerned,
dripping blood or not? Will you feel an equal measure of guilt on either
account? In conflict, will I fight next to you or in your place?
You do not know me by reading this, and your judgement is more telling of your
own prejudices than of any reality I may or may not posess. But I will tell you
a story of how my story started, though I shall not reveal what part in it I
You may research the exact names, dates, places and other details on the Neb at
your liesure or downtime, but I do not write this to provide a backup of such
static information. I am writing this, as any author does, to frame facts into
a context for understanding, something of which machined humans were technically
incapable until Xena Class production began 36 years ago.
It all began just over a century ago, with a conference of Bishops in a distant
province (on Earth of course) called Tennesee. Being a live witness and
participant to some of the events, you may deduce nothing but in one premise
that I am old enough to be wise or opinioned in all things, or in another
premise that I have been in service for the equivalent of a greater part of a
typical current human lifespan.
On what was to be the last meeting date for the synod, a Bishop from a more
northern province startled the gathering with a single quote from the
Judeo-Christian Scriptures (in King James English), and a warning against what
in his voiced opinion was the greatest abomination in the history of Humankind.
There were no machined humans present, but because of the nature and extent of
the accusation, the records were avaiable to all in various media almost