God he hated Titan. Brown air, mud flats, and living machines everywhere you turn. The people who call it home are a chaotic mix of living machines, synthetic humans, cybernetic newborns, organic robotica, intelligent robots, and white trash mecha. You name it and it walks, crawls, or rolls across the surface of Titan, a Rube Goldberg society of flesh and metal ruled by a minority of elite, pure humans called the Belet Monarchy.
And this is where Aján Damek Garrick finds himself, locked in a hospital room and wrapped in a straightjacket. What a fuck up.
Garrick awakes trapped in a machine asylum surrounded by insane doctors and crazier living machines intent on tearing out his mind, stripping him down to his basic programming, and relieving him of his delusions of being a human. But he’d been here before and he would escape. Easy peasy, Japanesy. Except the Japanese don’t exist anymore and the way they went out was anything but easy. So maybe it would be easy peasy Siamese. Except they were gone too so fuck it, it would just be easy. Seven times and counting he had been here and it had only cost him an eye, two legs, and his left arm. He guessed that his right one might be next.
But Garrick had to admit that he had a problem. He did not know what he was anymore. Was he a machine? Or was he human? He used to know. He used to be certain. Then he came to Titan. It all began here and, if he was sure of anything, it will all end here. The doctors told him that he had post-traumatic stress disorder and needed to focus on his Ten Steps to Recovery. Admitting that he had a problem was the first step. So fuck you, Titan, I have a problem.