My second treatment went without a hitch, Dr. Chen and Miss Avast were super attentive to my every need. I can't say I blame them when money like they charged was on the cards.

Now, approaching our newly rented safehouse in the middle tier of Cali's residential sector, I felt renewed and excited for the future. This wasn't posh enough to draw attention, but it was secure enough to provide the necessary privacy we needed.

<<Neural integration efficiency has jumped to 91%, with cognitive processing speed showing a 38% improvement over baseline measurements.>>

<<I'm doing good?>>

<<Very good,>> she replied.

NANITE RECONSTRUCTION - PHASE 3 RESULTS:

Neural Integration: 91% [APPROACHING OPTIMAL FUNCTION]

Cognitive Processing: +38% [SUBSTANTIAL IMPROVEMENT]

Motor Control: 96% [NEAR-PERFECT PRECISION]

Sensory Trade-offs: Taste 8%, Smell 23% [SEVERE BUT STABLE LOSSES]

Trait Progression: Hybrid Neural Architecture Foundation – 91% ↑

Trigger: Third treatment phase showing near-optimal integration

Function: Brain-AI hybrid system reaching design potential

Status: Enhanced human-AI consciousness emerging

"We're here," Sorrel said, hopping out when the transport stopped.

A minute later we were outside our new building and then up four hundred stories. Holy shells this was high.

"This is much better," I said, walking inside and giving it the once-over. The spacious common area centered around a holographic projector is currently displaying four rotating profiles of people who didn't exist until now. Individual sleeping quarters branched off from here; I poked my nose in one. They were each equipped with privacy screens and modest furnishings. Through the main window, Cali's medical district sprawled below us, its busy pedestrian corridors and transport tubes creating constant streams like a river.

Mac stood at the center of the room, manipulating a holographic image of our profiles. "Our new identities are now fully activated in the system," he said. "Markov confirmed it to Lev this morning. As far as Cali Station is concerned, we've always been these people, and we've lived in this apartment block together for the last eight months."

I studied the floating profiles and sat in the most comfortable chair, a concession to my still-recovering body. It didn't hurt as much as it used to, but it ached, and I moaned.

"This was Dr. Chen's idea," Kerry, ugh, Sorrel explained. "Not a bad place either." She moved to sit near me. "How're you feeling? Any new side effects?"

"No," I shook my head. "Improvements in both motor control and cognitive processing," I replied, demonstrating by executing a complex sequence of finger movements that would have been impossible days earlier. "But my taste is almost completely gone now. I can barely distinguish between sweet and bitter."

"He warned us about the sensory trade-offs," she frowned. "Sorry."

"It's not your fault," I said. "Besides, the improvements more than make up for it."

<<Would you like to review your current medical statistics?>> Doli asked privately.

"Go ahead," I said and nodded to the team. "They can hear this too."

"Neural integration efficiency is now at 91%, improved from 78% yesterday. Cognitive processing index at 89%, up from 65%, a substantial advancement. Neural pathway stability was holding at 94%, and it improved from 83%. Stress hormone levels normalized: cortisol at 1.2 mg/dL, adrenaline at 0.8 mg/dL, both within optimal ranges."

I absorbed this information with satisfaction. The numbers confirmed my subjective experience of improvement.

"Motor control efficiency at 96%, up from 82%. The immune system function was optimized to 94% of the baseline. Core metabolic efficiency maintaining 92%. Infection markers remain at zero. However, sensory processing baseline for taste has degraded to 8% of normal function, with smell following a similar trajectory at 23% retention."

The improvements were remarkable, but the sensory losses remained troubling. I wondered what other aspects of human experience might be sacrificed as treatment continued.

Lev examined his own profile. "This is impressively thorough. Employment records, residence history, medical files, all cross-referenced and verified across multiple systems."

"Markov's work wasn't cheap," Mac confirmed. "That means comprehensive. These aren't just names and faces we need to learn. They're complete lives with histories that can stand up to even military scrutiny."

I remembered the price tag. "A hundred thousand ₵ each."

"Worth it," Kerry said.

I found myself wondering, not for the first time, exactly what Rob had done before our paths crossed. Their network of contacts and ability to procure seemingly impossible resources suggested a background far more complex than he typically projected.

"When is my facial surgery scheduled?" I asked the question, drawing everyone's attention.

"Tomorrow morning at 0630 hours," Sorrel answered. "Dr. Chen wants your neural pathways completely stabilized from the second treatment before introducing surgical stress, and you're doing very well."

I nodded, trying not to feel impatient. While the others had already completed their transformations, I remained caught between identities—neural changes advancing inside while my exterior remained unchanged.

"Peyton Tachim," I said, examining my yet-to-be-claimed identity. "It sounds super fake."

"All names feel fake for a while," Mac replied, his expression becoming serious. "But these aren't just new IDs, they're complete personas. You need to internalize their histories, mannerisms, speech patterns, and even unconscious physical behaviors. Any inconsistency could trigger an investigation we don't want."

Sorrel waved a hand over her transformed features. "The physical changes require a lot of psychological adjustment. I keep experiencing recognition delays when I see my reflection."

"The modifications were calculated for optimal effectiveness," Mac said. "Sufficient alteration to defeat automated recognition systems without requiring changes so drastic they'd affect natural movement patterns or our facial expressions."

"What about Doli?" I asked. "Her neural signature is highly distinctive. If security systems scan for any unusual interfaces..."

"I have been developing signature modification protocols," Doli responded, her voice projected through the room's communication system. "I can restructure my external signature to mimic a commercial-grade neural assistance device consistent with Peyton Tachim's now documented medical history. Internal functionality remains unchanged, but external scanners will detect nothing unusual."

"That's amazing," Mac admitted. "Can you maintain that modification indefinitely?"

"Affirmative. However, transitioning between signature patterns requires approximately eleven minutes and forty-three seconds of focused recalibration. So, I will not be switching back. I am also a new me."

"Good," I said. "It's needed.

We dedicated the remainder of the day to intensive identity preparation. Role playing. Mac guided us through various scenarios, testing our ability to respond naturally to simple questions, like where did we grow up, what school did we go to, any high-school sweethearts.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Of course, Lev doubled down on the security protocols, he taught us how to handle identification challenges and verification procedures with ease. Signing a new signature didn't seem possible at first, but after a hundred or so attempts we were all getting it right.

What surprised me the most was the process revealed unexpected insights about my friends that I hadn't known before. Sorrel's flawless recall of complex medical credentials demonstrated her extensive familiarity with academic achievement systems across not only Sol's systems but various others. Lev's adoption of his new identity suggested prior experience with covert operations, that I kind of expected after his poisoning and off world revelations. It was clear he'd been many places undercover.

My own preparation proved more challenging. Beyond memorizing Peyton Tachim's biography and professional background, I needed to anticipate how my physical appearance would change after surgery and how that transformation would affect my psychological self-image.

"Your neural pathways are still highly plastic," Sorrel observed, monitoring my brain activity during practice sessions. "That's actually advantageous, you're more adaptable to identity shifts than you would be under normal circumstances."

"I can assist with behavioral adaptation," Doli offered. "By creating specialized neural pathways to store and access identity-specific movements. Would you smile for me?"

Sorrel watched me carefully.

"Now, smile again." Doli asked.

She grinned. "It's the way your lip quirks. That's brilliant, Doli!"

"Thank you," Doli said. "Would you like me to implement this system?"

I agreed, intrigued by this novel application of our neural integration. Within moments, I felt subtle changes in my motor control architecture. Not interference with my natural movements, but additional behavioral options layered within my neural pathways.

When I deliberately accessed these new pathways, my body naturally adopted Peyton Tachim's documented physical characteristics, his slightly modified posture compensating for neural injury, his particular gait pattern, and his gestural vocabulary reflecting someone recovering from cognitive trauma.

"The transformation appears completely natural," Sorrel observed as I demonstrated the behavioral overlay. "No indication of artificial modification."

"Because it isn't artificial," I explained. "Doli's not overriding my movements, she's creating parallel motor pathways I can access voluntarily. It's analogous to how multilingual speakers switch between languages without conscious translation."

As evening approached, Mac reviewed the final preparations for my surgical procedure. "Your adaptation rate has exceeded all projections."

"Thanks to both Doli and Sorrel," I said, nearly stumbling over her new name.

<<One last thing before tomorrow,>> Doli said, her voice softer now. <<I've assigned alias designations. For system masking.>>

"We're already hidden."

<<Not enough. Signatures still carry trace vectors. From now on, I'll return as 'Lia' if scanned. Nexus is cloaked under 'Nyx.'>>

"And if someone digs deeper?"

<<Then they're looking for gods, not ghosts.>>

"Good idea," Sorrel nodded acknowledgment. "I'll handle all post-operative care. Dr. Chen has provided complete medical equipment and pharmaceutical supplies."

I spent the evening studying a holographic model of my future appearance. The changes were subtle but comprehensive, modified cheekbone structure, altered nose profile, adjusted hairline, and slightly different jaw configuration. Sufficient transformation to defeat recognition systems while maintaining facial biomechanics that would feel natural to my existing neural patterns.

"It's strange," I commented while staring at the projected changes. "In some ways, this external transformation feels more significant than the internal nanite reconstruction."

Mac paused his work, studying my expression with unexpected intensity. "The physical changes aren't the difficult part. The challenge comes when you realize some part of you prefers the new you," Something in his tone suggested personal experience. "Sometimes what you discover beneath the mask matters more than what you're trying to hide."

"Will your families understand?" I asked though I suspected I already knew the answer.

Mac hesitated before responding. "Contact with anyone from our previous lives puts them and us at risk. We need to remain completely underground for the foreseeable future, possibly permanently."

The finality of his statement settled over us like a weight. We were not just changing our appearances or identities, we were severing all connections to our former existence.

I noted the droop to his shoulders. This wasn't good for him, I could see that.

We spent the remainder of the evening refining our new selves. Testing each other on biographical details, rehearsing natural responses to potential challenges, and developing contingency protocols if any of us were compromised. Throughout this process, I was struck by the profound intimacy of our situation.

Over the months we'd spent together, these people had evolved from colleagues into something approaching family. As we helped each other adopt new identities, our bonds deepened, shared vulnerability creating collective strength in our elaborate deception.

Later that night, alone in my quarters, I brought up a secure holographic display. "Doli, can we check on the Faulkner's systems? I need something familiar right now."

<<Of course,>> Doli replied, projecting a detailed schematic of our ship. <<The Faulkner remains docked. All systems are in standby mode with minimal power draw.>>

I smiled at the familiar sight of our vessel—202 meters of sleek engineering designed for both stealth and speed. "Show me the current status."

The display shifted, showing a detailed diagnostic readout.

<<Core systems remain fully operational,>> Doli reported. <<Curvature Drive XVIII maintains a 98.3% efficiency rating. Dual deuterium-tritium fusion plants in secure cold storage. Pressurized cargo sections are sealed and environmentally stable. All equipment inventories confirmed: fourteen crawler reconnaissance drones, six atmospheric fliers, four bishop-class EVA units, and two mule-class cargo exoskeletons remain in hardened storage compartments.>>

"And your core there?"

<<Also remains in standby mode,>> Doli confirmed.

I studied the readouts with a sense of longing. The Faulkner was more than just a ship to me, it represented freedom, possibility, an escape route if everything went wrong.

"Do you miss it?" I asked.

Doli was silent for a moment before responding.

<<I do not experience nostalgia in human terms. However, Faulkner's systems were optimized for my original parameters. There is a certain... efficiency in returning to that environment.>>

I laughed softly. "That's as close to saying 'yes' as you'll get, isn't it?"

<<Perhaps,>> Doli acknowledged. <<The integration we're developing now is more sophisticated than my original ship-based functions. However, Faulkner's systems offered a different kind of capability—physical presence through the drone complement, direct environmental control, and defensive capabilities.>>

"We'll get back to her," I promised. "Once we're through all this."

<<May I ask a question, Piotr?>>

"Of course."

<<Your statistical improvements are significant. Physical parameters are approaching optimal ranges. Yet your neurochemical patterns suggest persistent uncertainty. What specifically concerns you about the transformation process?>>

I considered the question carefully. "I think... It's the permanence. Every change feels like stepping further away from who I was. The loss of taste, potentially smell, the upcoming facial surgery—they're all one-way streets. Once done, there's no going back."

<<Identity persistence is a core human concern,>> Doli observed. <<Yet humans routinely change throughout life—cell replacement, memory formation, loss, and belief alterations. In what way is this transformation fundamentally different?>>

"Scale and speed," I replied immediately. "Natural changes happen gradually, giving us time to integrate them into our self-concept. This is... accelerated evolution."

<<Your neural plasticity metrics suggest you are adapting well to these changes,>> Doli noted. <<Perhaps better than predicted.>>

I nodded, still studying the Faulkner's schematics. "Maybe that's what worries me. How easily I'm becoming someone else."

<<Not someone else,>> Doli corrected. <<A variant of yourself. Core decision-making patterns, emotional responses, and memory structures remain stable. The changes are primarily in sensory processing, neural efficiency, and, soon, external appearance.>>

She was right, but hearing it all… man…

<<Your neural patterns show interesting changes during identity practice,>> Doli continued. <<Areas associated with self-concept and personality expression are demonstrating unprecedented plasticity. This may be partly attributable to the nanite reconstruction but also suggests psychological adaptation to identity fluidity.>>

"I'm becoming someone else from the inside out," I said. "Neural restructuring, sensory recalibration, and soon external identity transformation. Sometimes, I wonder what will remain of Piotr Argassa when all this is finished."

<<An intriguing philosophical question,>> Doli responded, demonstrating her increasing depth. <<If identity exists as a pattern rather than a fixed substance, then continuity may persist even after fundamental transformation. Consider the Faulkner, even when turned off, its core character stays intact. The vessel's identity survives between operational states.>>

I smiled at the comparison. "Are you saying I'm like a ship in dry dock?"

<<The analogy has merit,>> Doli said. <<Your core systems are being upgraded and reconfigured, but your fundamental purpose remains.>>

Trait Enhanced: Medical Transformation Acceptance – 94% ↑

New Component: Philosophical integration of change as natural evolution

Status: Embracing hybrid existence as growth rather than loss

As night fell, we met for a final assessment of our new life. Rob held up his ID, the holographic security features catching the light. "To new beginnings," he said, lifting it as a toast.

Kerry, Sylvk, and I followed suit, our four chips glowing in the dimmed room. It made me feel, hope, there was a future out there for us. One by one, my companions retired to their quarters, leaving me alone in the common area with my thoughts.

I found myself drawn to the window, there I stared out at Cali Station's nightscape while contemplating my reflection. "Who are you now?" I whispered to the transparent image superimposed over the city lights. "Who will you become?"

<<The universe is your oyster,>> Doli said, and I had to smile at the analogy. She was right because it really was. Everything we did from here on out was our decision, decisions we'd make as a team. Family.

<<Neural patterns indicate pre-sleep anxiety,>> Doli observed. <<I could read for you?>>

"No," I replied silently. "Let me sit with these thoughts a while longer. Changing identity should feel uncomfortable. It means we're paying attention to what matters."

<<If I may offer an observation,>> Doli added, <<the Faulkner's systems were designed to adapt to changing conditions, to transform their operational parameters based on environmental challenges. Perhaps your current transformation is not unlike the ship's?>>

The comparison brought an unexpected comfort and a chuckle. Like the Faulkner, I was being reconfigured for a new mission, but my essential nature, my purpose remained unchanged.

And with that thought, I closed my eyes, carrying the memories and purpose of Piotr Argassa into an uncertain tomorrow where I would soon emerge as someone else entirely.

Damn, was I looking forward to it.

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