“It’s 6,” Ming said, seeming troubled.
“Yeah? What time do you want it to be?” I asked.
“Hmm,” he said, frowning at his phone.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“The lights should have gone off. That’s my cue to leave.” It was a day of the week when he serves a morning meal to the hungry with the Las Vegas Catholic Worker.
“Oh,” I said. “Does google control your lights?”
“No,” he said.
“Who controls your lights?”
“Fet,” he said.
“Boba Fett?” I asked.
We laughed. “He would just shoot the lights!” Ming said.
Then I googled Boba Fett. “Wow, it’s boba,” I said. “I thought it was Buhbuh.”
“Yeah, bubbly personality,” Ming said.
“He doesn’t really have the breasts for it,” I said, looking at the picture of Boba Fett that was on my chromebook screen. He seemed very skinny. I thought of Sepulveda Boulevard, Queen I’m a Doll Uh, and how Hans Solo was not really solo, but he definitely had hands. I guess Wookies don’t count.
“Is he an organism? Or a robot?” I asked.
“He’s a Mandalorian by battle, but not by birth,” Ming said.
“Uh…TMI!” I said.
We laughed again. I hugged Ming for a long time, clinging to his tummy, as he was about to leave. “TMI about you!” I clarified. I had no idea he knew so much about Boba Fett. “So is he an organism? Or a robot?”
“He’s a humanoid,” Ming said. What a geek.
I ordered some stamps from the post office that are droids. I’m wondering if Ming will want them. Maybe they’re not the droids he’s looking for?
I’m not super keen on droids–I prefer organisms. Animals, plants, fungal life. But I know many people are cyborgs. You never know–one day you might need a mechanical knee implant and will become a cyborg. Or people might use cochlear implants.
Technology can help, and is carrying it inside of you so different from carrying it outside of you? What about pacemakers and those heart shocking things? Internal defibrillators. Yep.