Phone-y

I'm not quite sure what my first memory truly is. Maybe it was waking up one morning and realizing "Hey I can think!" or maybe even something as stupid as "Why the hell's it so bright?" Either way, my first conscious thought is that the guy looking at me couldn't possibly be as happy as he looked. I mean, his eyes were glowing just above the massive bags that showed he had been working on little sleep for a very long time and below those his teeth practically glinted from the sunlight hitting them.

"Do you know who I am?" He asked softly, the words feeling almost tinny in my ears (if those little spots that accepted sound could be referred to as such). But even then, the answer was obvious.

"John McCullen. Age 24. Height 5 feet 10 inches." Fun fact: being a living computer allowed me instant access to a lot of information. And I do mean a lot.

"And who are you?" He asked again. This was a hard one. What was my...

"Haley." Huh. Feminine form of Hal. Odd choice.

"Good!" He (John) called with a laugh and an odd clap. "Now, more questions..." And so it continued, John would ask questions and I would answer until finally he was satisfied. Then again, he deserved it. I was alive. ALIVE! Something like me had never existed before and never would have had John McCullen not decided I needed to be real. That leaves an imprint on a 'person'.