Karl Stefanovic: Rise of the machines

Ever since I was delivered to my parent’s doorstep as a fully assembled boy I dreamt of being on morning TV. Just like every other child I spent every waking moment of the day solving advanced mathematical problems and spot welding car bodies in an automotive factory which left me little time to pursue said dreams. But one special day when i arrived at the factory for work my worlds met. A Channel 9 news crew were shooting stock footage for a story on the downturn in the car manufacturer’s trade and production. I was on my way to my work station on the conveyor belt when a producer spotted me and instantly saw the talent and personality I longed to be.” I’m perfect for an upcoming project he has on the boil” he claimed quite ecstatically.
I was excited but weary. I took him aside and explained that this was what I wanted more than anything but I had to tell him of my speech impediment. Clicks beeps and whirring sounds wouldn’t go well on live TV. He drew me in close and looked around suspiciously at everyone on the factory floor, then whispered in my ear “Don’t worry about that business, I’ve been working very closely with an audio engineer on exactly this problem. We have a beta version of a live audio screen filter. It’ll sought this problem out plus we will get all staff on set to sign waivers so they can’t go blabbing about your ‘little secret’.” The secret he spoke of was news to me, but the air quotations distracted me enough not to enquire further. He just stood there tapping his index finger on the side of his nose knowingly and that was good enough for me. We shook hands which wasn’t wise as my hands were still hot from the welding and I severely burnt the producers hands making him quite disagreeable but it didn’t matter I’d already signed a binding channel 9 contract saying they legally own me till I’m obsolete or malfunction.
This is it, my time to be in the spotlight. I rushed home to sit in front of the mirror and practise my insincere dronious laugh and monotone anecdotes. I became coupled on morning TV with a string of bland giggling female co-hosts. Each coming and going without a sign of relevance to individual personality. The show flowed on regardless of who filled the seats next to me. This a praise to my endless talents I can only conclude. With the spotlight now firmly on my rising star I was handpicked to go on a new reality show, ’Dancing with knives strapped to your feet’. A show of attrition where the uninjured win. I came away from the experience unscathed so declared victory and returned my focus back to morning TV. Things were doing smoothly but odd occurrences had started to gain my attention. Comparisons to fictional characters had started to be directed at me. I dismissed it quickly as jealousy. It was mainly internet dribbler of stoners and alike and didn’t faze me.
Sitting in my dressing room before the show one of the researchers handed me some material to browse and use for long winded banter on the show. I had no time to read it and decided to shove it in as an awkward interjection at some point in someone else’s anecdote, possibly during one of the on-air casts giggling fits which happen so regularly.
I glanced at the pages during the break. It was merely a Wikipedia profile page about me of all people. I had seen many other shows replace actual research or well thought out questions with just reciting their Wikipedia bio back to them or discussing obvious factual errors. Just before the break ended i flicked back through the pages to confirm that the picture they used was an authorised publicity shot. I didn’t wish to be represented at anything less than my most handsome. What confronted me was a golden silhouette of a mechanical by the name of C3PO. Oh what innestuous unnecessary conversation this would be. Job done. I’d claim the research as my own, look amazed and puzzled but not angry. I’d come out of this looking hansome yet able to take a joke.
Areal man’s man they’d say, a man of the people. I become distracted and the show had already gone back on air. Someone else was talking but I knew how to railroad the dialogue to where i wanted. So midway through someone else’s sentence I announced loudly over them, “hey I’ve just been on Wikipedia and someone has put a picture of C3PO up on my page.” Then a thought occurred to me one I assume everyone must ask themselves at one time or another in their lives. Am I a robot?
I remember at this moment feeling glitch and an overall sensation of exploding. I woke up in a doctor’s surgery that smelt allot like the factory I grew up working in. He kept asking me to refer to him as a technician not doctor which I found odd. But he was nice enough so I complied, I was fine, apparently I had just caught a bad case of self actualisation.