A monster is anyone who is different. This might mean that everyone is a monster, or at least that everyone is someone’s monster. Cyborgs are different because they are built to assimilate into households and factories. They are made to fit, to blend in. They are meant to seem just like you, or really, just like everyone. But its impossible to actually be like everyone, so this might even be scarier than a monster. Monsters are always identifiable due to their long black hair, multiple arms that retract into the torso, but in horror films, you can’t always tell if something is a cyborg or a human—thats a major difference.
Cyborgs adapt to you and learn how to ask you questions, verifying your responses before responding any further. Although you know little about them, and whether or not they even are cyborgs, they watch you carefully, and learn all about you. Dangerous in that they have all of the information. Or at least all the information you are willing to give out. They are hybrids, both human and machine, treating you as a human while taking in information as a machine. They count on this duality in order to survive. Monsters refuse to adapt to circumstances. They stand out right away by refusing to conform. The only time a monster adapts, retracting those multiple arms into its torso is during moments like lovemaking and hitchhiking, because even monsters fall in love, want to make a go of it. Even this is not truly adapting or conforming, because monsters hallucinate. A monster’s reality is not reality. A monster does not plan for a future, even if it longs for one. In contrast, who cyborgs be is a matter of survival. A cyborg does not adapt to living life, a cyborg adapts in order to simply make it through another day. A cyborg survives in order to survive again. A cyborg does not want to make a go of it.
A monster refuses her life. A monster does not accept and thus can not move forward. A monster gets in the car in the parking lot then gets out to wait for the next one. A monster continues to hallucinate. Half human half machine, a cyborg will constantly be balancing two halves of a life. A life adapted for a household, and a life adapted for a factory. These halves are never exactly balanced. A monster is itinerant—never in one place for too long. Never long enough to accept, to adapt, to make a future there. But everyone knows cyborgs are born in hospitals—taken there by someone who cares. Someone who wants them around for a while. A monster refuses childhood with its berries and goes. Gets in another car, and then goes again. A monster does not move on, a monster moves again. A cyborg makes moves again and again in the same place, building up knowledge to further assimilate. A cyborg never assimilates, it is built to continuously adapt. A monster never tries.