Do Not Recycle

After I woke up, the doctor told me that I had undergone consciousness uploading due to illness. Once your original body is cured, you can go back. But he didn't tell me why there was another voice in my head. It says it is AI. It can help me understand unfamiliar devices, detect dangers that I don't notice, and insist on finishing a sentence when I am too sleepy to open my eyes. Occasionally, it would be quiet for a long time. When he spoke again, he said that he had just had a dream. I want to be back in my own body. It said it wanted to find out its origins. We made an appointment, helped each other, and then parted ways. Until I saw that recycling notice. The company did not explain why it was looking for it, only that it be returned in full. Followed by a reward. I checked that number twice with my own treatment and relocation expenses. Enough. I began to seriously consider how to hand it over. I don't want to die, nor do I want to live in a machine forever, sharing my body, senses, and memories that should only belong to me with another voice. I just want to live a human life again. After all, I am human. I remember.