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  Dr. Erlen Ibarres, and Dr. Ala Rayburn. The two names quickly became synonymous with routine change. A strange contradiction. If they were together, 017 would be made to switch rooms, or undergo an exam in a different section of the medical wing, or she’d be given new clothes, or some such busywork nonsense. The fervor with which Ibarres began to move and study her tests would start to unnerve 017, whereas Ala seemed perpetually… nervous. And impatient. He was eccentric, and she was neurotic, 017 would think to herself.

  The first day saw her moved into a room with a proper bunk. Or, some facsimile of a proper bunk. It was a room, with items that could be called decoration, and a slab that looked like it was supposed to be a bed. A bed that was constructed like an operating table, with a body-shaped indent on it where she was meant to lie, with little ports along the spine that would open while 017 was resting to connect needle-like inputs into tiny little sockets in the DNI that ran up her spine. It was at this time she also found out that half of her DNI was only temporary, to let her body - particularly her nervous system - adapt, and that before she was released she would receive a full, “real” DNI implant. When she questioned the doctor about the rest of her implants, she was told that they were all as permanent as she wanted them to be. 

  They were as standard as implants got, but most could be swapped if the need arose. Yet despite the specs insisting they were, at most, rudimentary, 017 would frequently found herself fascinated, studying how they were implanted, how they rested against and underneath the skin, or how they replaced the skin entirely. How some would be set into existing organ systems, whereas others replaced them entirely. For instance, while her lungs were now fully synthetic, her liver only had one small piece of tech attached to it, helping it do its job in a much more sustainable way, for the long term. Some of the tech was biosynthetic, meant to mimic organic tissue as closely as it could, and the rest was full-send cybernetics. Metal, rubber, polymer, the works. Her “heart”, for instance, was roughly the shape of a heart, but was composed of one solid chamber that housed the pump system that kept her circulatory system functioning. Interesting side effect: she no longer had a heartbeat. When she discovered this as a note in her charts, she asked the first person she met to feel their heartbeat. It had been Ala, who had tentatively obliged. 017’s fingers had pressed into the side of her neck, and the sensors built into the pads of her fingers relayed  to her that, not only was Ala’s heartbeat faster than standard for someone of her age and fitness, but the longer she lingered, the higher it got. She recoiled, realizing she was inspiring fear, and had quickly shuffled off to the far corner of her room and made herself small, giving Ala as much room as she needed to run her errands. 

  The day had finished with long hours spent alone, sitting on the floor, flicking through the tablet Ibarres had given her that morning. More research on herself, but also a bit of time, as the lights dimmed, she spent some time scrolling through photos. She had access to all standard Interplanetary Research Institutional Society archives and databases, which was more information than she could ever hope to read, but, conveniently, they had a vast amount of photos of planets and their surfaces, of beautiful nebulas and constellations and volcanic mountain ranges and deep-water trenches. She stared at them, at all of them, and felt something inside her stir. It… hurt.

strange…

  Dinner, served to her just before her “mandated rest period” was very similar to her breakfast that morning: too thick to be a soup, but not dry enough to be cereal. Something more akin to a bland, earthy mix of mashed potatoes and oatmeal. Except it was neither, and tasted almost exclusively like protein. With a hint of brown sugar.

  On that note, she’d left the screen of her device displaying a large fungal colony, the cap spanning nearly 50 meters, and figured out how to lay down. Ala had given her tips, but putting them into practice proved difficult. She seemed to have to scrunch herself up in order to get the needle-like inputs into their sockets. It was not comfortable. The “cushioning” (which was a strong word) seemed to be endlessly cold, and did not warm up no matter how long she laid in one spot. She laid stone-still for what felt like hours before finally drifting off to sleep.

  The second day started with 017 waking up and feeling as if her torso had been bound to vertical metal poles. She was so stiff it physically hurt to bend over and touch her toes when Ibarres asked her to. Still, she did. She also took the opportunity to ask the doctor if, perhaps, she could have a bed slightly larger. Or an implant slightly smaller. To both requests, he shook his head no. They would be planetside in only a couple days, he said, so she would only have to endure another night or two. It struck 017 as strange that Ibarres didn’t seem to know when they would land. 

  She had picked up from procedure notes and implant requisition and fabrication forms in her files that Ibarres was the lead intellectual aboard the Szuras. She used that catch-all title to avoid the myriad of specialized ones the doctor had accrued. Chief Researcher, “Sentient Energy-Neuron Transmitter” Specialist, I.R.I.S. Representative to Kozpont, Cybernetic Implant Specialist, to name a few. No one ever seemed to outrank him, but perhaps that was just by design. Perhaps he sought to suggest to 017 he was the top of the food chain, when in fact three rooms down was the actual head of the ship… 017 doubted it. He was a liar, but he rarely bluffed. 

  The rest of the day went much the same as the first. Long hours staring at screens and sifting through information all in the hopes that she would find something that helped her put the pieces together. She found it troubling that, while she had very little idea what many things were called, she felt an instinctual familiarity towards most objects in her vicinity. She could pick something up and, usually, use it. But she couldn’t tell her observers what it was. Once she learned the names, however, they stuck. And she felt very confident with her current memory. She was just missing almost three decades of her life. That was all, that small bit… Dinner was the same as it had been the day before, and the same as her breakfast. Both days were two square meals of “nutrient glop”.

  She sighed, and set the tablet at her side. Her room lights were dimming. She laid herself out onto her bed, and wriggled herself up into position. The inputs slipped into her DNI, and her breath caught in her throat as she adjusted. In the smallest way, it was like someone sticking their fingers into her spine. Closer to a pinprick, however, in terms of strength. “Adjusting” was easy at that point. She couldn’t move, really, so there was not an option to adjust. Simple. 

  She closed her eyes, and waited for sleep to take her once more. 

  Day three started early, and consisted of a long, intimate visit to the ship’s exercise room, after a short breakfast of, just as she guessed, whatever the hell she’d been eating for two days. It had been a bit of a walk to get to, an entire thirty meters or so. As short a walk as it really was, 017 relished the chance to stand and walk around a bit. Seeing more of the ship’s interior was a nice change of pace as well. It was almost enough to distract her from the general shiftiness of the crew whenever she walked by. All she got was stares. Some of fear, others wore distaste or contempt, yet others seemed curious. There were also the crew who couldn’t have been less bothered by her presence, most of which were conversing with their crewmates or were nose deep in digital paperwork. 

  However, once herself, Ibarres, Ala, and their armed escort had all arrived, the door shut and the tests began. No more time to ponder why the ship seemed to be so densely populated, considering standard crew size wouldn’t have warranted so many engineers in the medical wing alone. The tests were simple but rigorous. They asked her first to run on a treadmill, built into the floor. It started slow, and built up to where 017 was in a full sprint to keep up. Just like that, it was over. No endurance portion, just raw ability. And as she was instructed to do pushups, pull-ups, crunches, jumping jacks, and a range of other activities, what she noticed is that she would be told to do said activity, and then she would be stopped at a specific amount, varying based on exercise. She would reach a certain point and then Ibarres or Ala would move her to the next set. By the time she was done, she could feel herself slowing down, tired. She sat herself on the floor as the doctors discussed their notes.

  “…-rything we needed,” Ala spoke, her voice soft. Soft, but not hushed. “Only worries are a little bit of sluggishness relating to physical strength.”

  “And signs of physical fatigue?” Ibarres asked. They both turned and looked at 017 for a moment. She met their eyes, and saw they were both giving her a once-over. That was… uncomfortable, to say the least.

  “None. Breathing normal, no perspiration, no alarms or warnings, circulation in a healthy range…” Ala listed off her observations.

  “Wonderful,” Ibarres turned to face 017 in earnest. “Great news, seventeen!”

  what happened to 017? 

  “You did great, everything looks fantastic. And guess what that means?” Ibarres spoke to her as if she was stupid. Her voice grated against the inside of her skull.

  “Do I finally get to get off this ship?” 017 already knew the answer, but wanted to ask anyways. Any chance she got to express a desire for a change of scenery, she took. She’d been throwing hints at both of the doctors during any sort of questioning, interviews, sometimes even just when they were passing by. She’d seen pictures of Kozpont, the planet they were orbiting, on her tablet. It wasn’t very pretty: lots of whites and grays, dead trees, shattered mountain ranges, and lots of buildings. Lots of buildings. Interrupted by vast stretches of seemingly endless wasteland. Ash fields as the remnants of burnt forests, deserts where seas used to swell, canyons that collapsed and filled themselves in under the assault of total ecological collapse, and the new canyons that formed as swathes of land shook and collapsed into the planet. Which was all to say nothing of the shifting ice fields around the poles, which would grow and shrink under the oppressive darkness and freezing temperatures of totally-occluding superweather. It was a hellscape, and she was dying to see it for herself. 

  “Actually, yes,” Ibarres conceded, seeming pleased with himself.

  017’s eyes went wide as she looked up at him. Stunned. She stood.

  “You’re serious…”

  “I am, 017. One small bit of business, though, beforehand…” 017 looked at him expectantly. “…We need to put you through a system-cleanse.”

  “Why? Is something broken?” 017 felt herself tense with worry.

  “No, no no, it’s just, some pilots who undergo full augmentation have pretty strong reactions to it, and need some help keeping their biological bits from trying to reject the synthetic ones.”

  or keeping the synthetic bits from killing the fleshy ones… the thought occurred to 017 as a fleeting moment, lost in the torrent of nervousness and excitement. 

  “…serious, it’s more like a bath than anything else, really. Just with a couple extra tubes,” Ibarres finished. 017 hadn’t realized he’d still been talking. She realized she felt hungry.

  “How come this hasn’t come up yet?” she asked. Her voice was almost more accusatory than inquisitive. 

  “Well, it’s meant as a stabilizing measure, not a preventative one. It’s to treat you, every few days or so, until your body adjusts to the new pieces. The “new pieces” in question making up over half of her total mass. She’d seen the specs, she was more machine than meat, not by a small margin. The important stuff remained. The brain, for example.

  “Okay. I’ll do it now.”

  “Seventeen, uh-,” Ibarres stuttered, a bit surprised at her sudden shift towards cooperation. “It’s good to have enthusiasm, of course, but it won’t be until tonight. And we won’t be landing until around midday tomorrow. just to give you a timeframe.”

  Meanwhile Ala stood at his side, occasionally tapping the screen of her equipment or shifting uneasily in place. She was a skittish thing, especially for a doctor. She struck 017 as closer to a jerboa in stature than Ibarres or even herself. Jerboas were very cute, though. Ala was very… stringy. Messy brown hair, a lean, almost lanky build, tall, big round brown eyes, and a jaw that never seemed to unclench. She was working on something, sure, but it still struck 017 as a bit strange that she really did not say anything. 

  “Fine. Are we done here?” she didn’t take her eyes off Ala. Not even when she noticed and shrunk away from her. Ala was, in some strange abstract metric, fascinating. She held so much power, yet seemed so… meek. 

  Ibarres told 017 that she’d be brought back to her room, and fed soon, and that the rest of her day would continue as normal until her scheduled cleanse, and to follow the guard et cetera et cetera et cetera…

  She decided to ignore him as she followed the guard back to her room, staying almost literally on the back of his heels as they went. The guard seemed calm enough, certainly the serious sort. Tired. Slow. For hell’s sake, he was slow. And she was impatient. And he fucking reeked of… something. Too sickly-sweet to be fresh body odour. Disgusting. Without truly deciding to, she strode past him down the hall toward her room, which was just around the corner. People started staring. A voice called out from behind her. Both of these were concerning signs. But, she swore on her life if she had to stand behind that sluggish, awful twat for one more fucking second she would lose it. She continued towards her room as people began to talk. The voice yelled louder. She heard the clattering of a something being raised at her back. 

  She still felt hungry. She felt… she felt sick. She’d felt like this all day. Why was she only just now noticing? Something wasn’t right. Something in her guts. Another warning popped up in her periphery. 

  ABNORMAL BIOCHEMISTRY DETECTED

  CONTACTING EMERGENCY SERVICES

  EMERGENCY SERVICES EN ROUTE

  She felt a hand on her shoulder. Firm, stern, commanding. She could smell him. She heard Dr. Ibarres down the hallway, shouting something.

  ah, shit…

  017 doubled over and fell to the ground, bile and what might’ve once been food ejecting itself onto the floor in front of her. Oh, she did not enjoy this…

  “Christ, kid, that fuckin reeks…” the guard had let her go and recoiled away from her. The irony of him criticizing her on scent made her want to both strike him, and fall over laughing. She settled for laughing exactly once mid-puke and choking on her own bile. She sputtered, and leaned into the retching. 

  EMERGENCY SERVICES NEARING LOCATION

  ADMINISTER EMERGENCY SYSTEM PACIFIER?

  As she retched again, she felt something inside her… shake loose. Something clattered against something solid in her stomach- no, just above it. 

  SECONDARY RESPIRATOR: ERROR

  PLEASE SEEK NEAREST I.R.I.S. TECHNICIAN

  At some point, the warnings had moved to the center of her vision. They only faded to the next section of dialogue when she got sick of them, strange coincidence. She was still upset she couldn’t turn them off.

  0-7 retched again, dry heaving. A hand came to rest on her back. Ibarres’ hand. That nearly made her feel worse. Her mind was starting to spin. This was horrible. Bile and half-digested protein paste was beginning to pool around her hands. It was warm. Burned a tiny bit. Realizing where she was and what she was kneeling in sent another heaving retch up through her guts. She felt that secondary respirator shift into something. A sharp pain in her insides. She yelped, and clasped at her stomach, staining her plain-white shirt with breakfast. 

  She recalled the offer for a system pacifier. She wished it was still available. She would’ve taken it at this-

  ADMINISTER EMERGENCY SYSTEM PACIFIER?

  Well, son of a bitch, good timing…

  She tried to say “yes” but it was lost in sputtering gasps as emergency personnel grabbed at her arms. She nodded her head, to no avail. The white-red-and-green clad folks that were now lifting her onto a little floating table made unintelligible noises and several hand gestures at each other. As they laid her back, conversing with Dr. Ibarres, she looked at Ala, who happened to be trailing her superior like a sad lost animal. Surprise surprise. She mouthed something to 017.

  i’m sorry

  017 intended to figure out exactly what she was fucking sorry about, after she felt better. She focused herself, did what she could to clear her mind as best as she could and, laying on that little table, closed her eyes and thought,

  YES

  A half second later, every inch of her body tingled as if she was being electrocuted, and a new line of text appeared:

  DEPLOYING SYSTEM PACIFIER. 

  thank you…

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