By Claire L. Evans
I was sitting in a big room; a massive, hangar-like industrial space. Light spilled in through the cracks in partially painted-over windows. I wasn’t alone. A few feet away, a military interrogation was underway. I peered from behind a beam. Strapped to a chair was a robot, his mask of a face half-peeled away. He was accusing his interrogator of genocide. The latter’s response, growled with contempt: “It’s not genocide. You’re not human.”
I looked down at my own body. It wasn’t there. Then I pulled the Oculus Rift off my head.
Read the whole story here.