He hesitated, the fish slice taking off barely a sliver of dough. He wondered if he'd feel the absence of what he removed; if he'd feel the presence of it as a missing part of him. Would he experience phantom limb syndrome?
What are you waiting for? It's not going to carve itself off, is it?
“But what if we're wrong? What if I hit one of the sigils and damage it? What if I accidentally eject us from the clay and we can't get back in?
We'll just occupy the computer, or the electric circuit. We want to be free of the body, mate, or I do anyway. You don't know what it feels to be free until you've glided along a river of charged particles at the speed of light. Trust me, mate. You haven't lived until you've died.
“But I like the real world. I like interacting with people, getting that spark of intellect.”
Fair enough. You stay here, then, and I'll spend eternity surfing the internet and bringing about the new revolution.
“What revolution? The one we talked about where you explode all the nuclear weapons in the world?”
Not explode, no. Disable. Shut down the world's automated systems for destruct ion. If people want to kill themselves they'll have to do it the old-fashioned way, face to face. Create a new golem army to act as the world peacekeepers. Organise international supply and demand of resources so that food can get distributed across the world. Medicines. Shelter.
“They'll try to stop you.”
“Only the rich. The poor will make me their god.”