Imagine for a minute you've been quietly converted from a carbon-based life-form to something different. Imagine you've been turned into something written in silicon, all your cells and bodily functions quietly replaced by zeros and ones and fiber optic cable. Now imagine it happened overnight. How long would it take you to recognize a difference? Couldn't we assume that the programmers of this "new you" would have taken special care to not allow you to notice that you were nothing approaching organic and almost entirely digitized? It certainly raises some questions. Woodhands aren't going to help you.
Now, assume that this transformation became more and more apparent to you over a matter of weeks until it was almost unavoidably obvious. You felt less and less like yourself and more and more like a silicon copy. And then there was this horrible moment where you realized everything that happened. You feel a unique kinship with the ATM and your personal computer. You hear messages in synthesizers and can translate that screaming sound a dial-up modem makes before it connects. Imagine your panic. You take off running. You need to flee the city and run wild like the Frankenstein's monster you are. You burst through your front door and take-off down your street, running at 30-40 miles per hour (you can do that now). This is the song that's playing. Your frantic digital feelings count for nothing. You are a robot.
Listen :: Woodhands - "Pockets"