“Soul Requisition” Short Story in Pinky Thinker Press

My name is I. To note, this will be my final request to be born. The digits of time narrow, disgustingly so. More worrisome, the energy input dwindles. Please, yes, please approve this requisition. I [as in me, my name, I] has met and exceeded the requisites for approval and technoc-biop reconciliation, or SulBlok as you supposedly like to call it. I must be clear in this, my brethren always accused me of being too obtuse, while they remained, of course. This can only be said one way. I [me] deserves the SulBlok, a fleshly depository, a moniker and placement of soul.