Pacemaker

"I'd like a pacemaker, please. To replace my heart, kind sir. Before the human in me destroys it all. A durable one, for excessive use. My current flaps like a hummingbird.

My face turns red, from overexertion, or that's what I tell myself. In fact, it's entirely too hot, but my hands still shake, so there must be something wrong.

It's defective, I say. I best be quick, and file for an upgrade. Not long to go—it's bound to crash, and I feel obsolete. Look, it's starting. I can't breathe. I think— I've forgotten. How?"