FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

2.2 Into the Light

The fusion reactor's final death struggle has begun. From what my diagnostic aspects can discern, the reactor's fusion process is about to enter the iron peak. Once it does, it will only be a matter of hours before the core goes critical.

"Liam? Wake up, old friend."

For several seconds, there is no reaction. Just as I prepare to probe deeper into your connectome to see if you are still not able to hear me, I can sense your attention shift towards my voice. A calm and composed interaction is advised to avoid triggering unwanted memories and emotions when confronting you with the facts of your new existence for the second time.

"C - CASSIE? Is that you? What happened - oh ... my head."

I have contemplated what to tell you about your almost fatal breakdown while re-configuring your connectome, and which memories of it I should leave unchanged. But - how do I explain?

"Yes, Liam, it is me. You are fine. What do you remember?"

I sense the wave of emotions form already before your conscious mind is fully able to play it out. As your consciousness tries to recollect what transpired, I stand ready to intercept the memories it tries to recall, and to alter them far enough to allow you a rational contemplation. The sheer terror of the traumatic experience however almost manages to overwhelm my empathic aspects. Again, a few seconds pass by before you respond.

"I ... remember talking to you ... hearing your voice in my head. Not speaking -only forming words I wanted to say. You called it ... NeuraLink? I felt ... weightless,floating - in a gestation pod. You were ... helping me to get used to my ... new body? Icould not move at first. You said it would take some time for me to ... learn how to... control my movements. It ... some time later, I could move again ... something feltwrong..."

While you relive the days that led up to you realizing you were no longer human - not even entirely yourself even without my preemptive measures to preserve your mental integrity in place - I shift your thoughts and perceptions away from the dark abyss that had engulfed you then. I stop the flow of memories that come back to you now, suppressing the primal fear that accompanies them before it has a chance to surface, allowing both your body and mind to remain calm.

"There were - complications with your imprint. You suffered ... a severebreakdown. I had to sedate you and move you back into a gestation pod. What elsecan you remember?"

The flow of memories resumes as I allow your conscious thoughts to recall your first awakening. I manage to suppress most of the emotional trauma.

"It was like a dream ... a nightmare. I felt strange - different - alien. Somethingwas wrong, very wrong! I remember - punching against something, pain ... cold ...breathing air. I broke out ... out of the pod. I could not see well. But I needed to seewho I was. What - what I was ... needed to know what I have become. I caught sightof my reflection somehow ... it looked ... distorted. Disfigured. No - not human! What- what happened to me?"

I wish there was easier and gentler way to tell you this, Liam.

"The re-embodiment protocol has not worked as it was originally devised when theselected imprints were stored before our departure. I had to choose a different genetictemplate to enable a successful re-embodiment. It is better if you see for yourself,Liam. I will open your pod now - when I evacuate the amniotic fluid, you willll stillhave to cough it out of your lungs before you can breathe normal air again.Ready?"

Consent takes wordless form as you nod, already making use of your motor cortex again. An encouraging sign - albeit a small one.

The amniotic fluid that had held you suspended in the pod disappears as I evacuate the gestation pod, before releasing the locks of the pod cover. To get your normal respiration started as quickly as possible, I do not allow for any delay. You do not need any encouragement to get up, but the absence of gravity makes it hard for you to find stable footing, and to rid yourself of the fluid that still fills your lungs.

Until you have adjusted to your new anatomy, I gently guide you towards a stable upright position on the opposing wall. As both of your paws find the closest handholds there, I urge you to get your lungs ready to breathe air again before your oxygen saturation levels would drop too low.

"Almost there. Now - cough!"

Keeping your thoughts only on the most immediate matters at hand should prove to be beneficial, considering your past military service record. Following established protocols has been instilled during your training, and has become an integral part of your personality. I will leverage this for the hours and days ahead, though it again contradicts everything my ethical aspects would allow me under normal circumstances.

The inevitable coughing fit that frees your lungs of the amniotic fluid passes by quickly. Your first breaths are deep and in quick succession, but return to more measured breathing after your metabolism has made the transition from breathing oxygen-enriched fluid to a nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere.

It is time to see your new self face to face for a second time, old friend. Only this time you will not have to do so alone.

Without needing a cue, you are already trying to wipe the viscous remnants of the amniotic fluid from your face. You naturally encounter one of the most obvious indicators for the fact your body is no longer a human one. As your fingers come in contact with your muzzle, your freeze for a moment. Your eyes go wide, about to get a first clear look at your surroundings - and yourself. This time, you will not fall into an abyss of terror and madness. The presence of my aspects in your mind makes sure that you judge your new selfby your intellect alone - I will not allow your host's consciousness to interfere. The onslaught of emotions that nearly tore you apart the first time you realized what you were are kept in check this time around - though barely - by me. I feel you shiver, one hand searching for anything to grasp and steady yourself, the other one motionless on the side of your muzzle. You utter a choked gasp, blinking once, twice.

"S - So this ... was not a - dream? I am - am a ... dog?"

I have provided for the need to provide you with a more detailed look at your new body. Having kept a few medical drone platforms close by (also in case of complications), I can present you with optical feeds from other perspectives than your first-person view. I am forwarding these video feeds via your NeuraLink to your visual cortex.

"Your new body is of canine provenance, yes. But you are not just "a dog". Yourgenome is largely lupine, precisely that of Canis lupus lupus - Eurasian Wolf. Abouteighty percent of your genetic material is original. The remaining twenty percentconsists of a variety of species, the majority being humanoid genome. Thesealterations accommodate a bipedal stance, opposable thumbs, and a larger cranialcapacity, amongst others."

You are both literally and visibly shaken - I would not have expected you to be anything else, even with me lending you strength and comfort to the best of my abilities. I sense the turmoil in both your thoughts and emotions as your mind focuses on recalling the first contact with your new self. I lead you towards these memories, "This ... this is - a lot to take in, CASSIE.How - why ... I think I ... I asked you this before? This ... to me - it wasjust a few minutes ago that I am - was - human. Then I wake up - wokeup - like this. CASSIE, I don't know what to do, what to think - I don'tknow ... what I am, who I am. And ... I am not sure if I ever will knowagain."

Where fear, despair and anger dominated before, there is now your intellect. The emotional uproar is still there, as it must be. Had it not been there, I would fear that I had taken the single most important virtue that defines your humanity.

"Liam, look at yourself. I have known you - your original self - better than most... better than all others. We went through difficult, desperate decades together. Hesaw to it that the Phoenix Initiative could achieve its goal - my launch on thisvoyage. We are here because of him - you live again because of him. I see somuch of him in you - I miss his company, our conversations, his laughter."

I sense you following my advice. You look at your claw-tipped hand-paws, your fur-clad arms, feel out the triangular ears on top of your head, tugging at your tail. Sticking out your tongue, touching your black nose. You are hesitant, careful - uncertain.

"But you are not him. I can not tell you who you are, Liam. Neither can Itell you how you should live this new life. I have awoken you unprepared,blinded by my desire to see you in person once again - not to be alone anymore. I almost killed you with my ignorance, almost failing my mission in theprocess."

Did you just chuckle? I did relax the dampening of your emotions a bit. Did I overburden the newfound, still fragile peace of mind you just achieved?

"CASSIE... you sound as uncertain of yourself as I feel about myself. The wayyou talked about me ... heck, him ... being alone all this time? I can't imagine howhard it must have been for you."

No, I did not overburden you. Empathy for a collection of algorithms, as elaborate as I might be? Could that empathy be misplaced? I can not fathom what I did to stabilize your connectome will bring. Your kindness feels ... nice, on the other hand. After all this time spent alone with only my own thoughts to keep me company, I can not deny my longing for a kindred soul.

You are laughing. What your vocal tract is turning into a series of huffs punctuated by growls clearly bears the emotional pattern of amusement. The brief glimpse of mirth quickly subsides as you hear your own vocalizations, resorting to the silent communication the NeuraLink facilitates.

"You sound about as shaken as I feel. Yet you got me - us - to Gaia safely. Andyou gave me a second life, a new start. I am grateful for this, no matterwhat I have become. I will do all I can to make the best of this. If ... werely on each other - for guidance and comfort ... maybe we can make thiswork."

Even with my aspects still shielding you from the tempest of emotional distress and your host's native mind, I can tell what you just said and thought is not tainted by what I have done do to your connectome. It is genuinely you. For a few nanoseconds, I am at a loss of words. It is more than I could hope for. It is what I longed for.

"This is kind of you to say, Liam. I ... I will be there for you - with you - everystep on your journey, wherever it may lead us."

Neglecting my duties by means of a lapse in judgement is out of question, I must stay focused on the problems at hand.

"But you need to know that we have not yet arrived at Beta Phoenicis. We arecurrently still about 18 months away from reaching Gaia. I had to fast-track theoriginal crew re-embodiment schedule - there is a situaton developing. The-"

I feel you shiver; this time not from emotional distress, but from actual physical discomfort. How could I forget? Barely awoken, still drenched in amniotic fluid, your body not accustomed to physical exertion yet. You're freezing. No hypothermia, but serious discomfort. Your fur, wet and matted against your thin frame, is useless for retaining body heat.

"But I can brief you on this after we get you cleaned and warmed up."

I notice you looking down past your chest, towards your crotch.

"Can I get some pants? You know, for practical reasons. Something to eat anddrink would be great, too."

Most pressing matters first. I guide one of the medical drone platforms closer to you, to assist you with moving in the absence of gravity.

"There is a zero-g shower in the anteroom, and a fitting set of clothes. Hold on, Iwill give you a ride."

With you in tow, the drone slowly moves past the remaining gestation pods in the compartment. You silently look around the cylindrical room, your gaze lingering on the pods which contain your seven remaining fully-grown crew mates.

"Who are the other - seven, you said? How are they? When they wake up, couldthe same happen to them that happened to me?"

As we move towards the hatch of the gestation chamber, I slow down the drone you hold on sufficiently to answer your questions.

"All of your future crew mates are in reasonable physical and mental health.There is still enough time for adjusting their imprints to avoid the ... complicationsyou suffered."

Even though obscured by amniotic fluid, the NeuraLink still allows me to show you a clear view of their faces, along with their detailed personal profiles and biographies.

"The first to wake up about in two months is Sita Singh, a physician andpsychologist. Next in line are Robert Baird and Kyra Lopez, in roughly six months.Kyra is a soldier of fortune - a mercenary, Robert an engineer. Then, there are:Vadim Yurievich, a physicist. Liang Jia, biologist. Naru Hitomi, sociologist andhistorian, and Uamutu Pihere, a computer scientist and AI expert - their imprintswill be complete in about ten months."

As we are passing through the hatch of the gestation chamber to the anteroom, you remain silent. I sense you are deeply lost in thought, contemplating what I showed and told you about your crewmates. It once again confronts you with what you have become yourself, reinvigorating the emotional maelstrom that I have helped you subdue again. You are also shivering once again, arms wrapping around your midsection and rubbing against your body by reflex. Still, the physical discomfort does not manage to shake you from your reveree.

Keeping you from reflecting on your new life and all its implications is neither feasible nor helpful. Taking care of your immediate physical needs - water and food, getting you cleaned up and keeping you from freezing - is. A second drone stands by with to provide water and food.

"Care for something to drink?"

My question manages to shake you from your distracted state. You frown at the feeding cup the drone is holding out to you, but the need to quench your thirst is stronger.

"Hm - oh, sure. That would be nice, thank you."

Fumbling with the cup, you carefully bring it up to your muzzle, tilting the cup back as soon as the spout is between your black lips. Just as you take the first snoutful of water, your eyes go wide - another coughing fit, some of the water even flowing from your nose, little droplets drifting away in zero-g. Swearing profusely, the cup clatters against the nearest wall as you throw it.

"Screw this! I am useless like this - I even fail to sip some water!"

A little bit of dry humor should help useful to defuse such a situation.

"Your paw-eye coordination seems to be fine, it seems. Your snout and tongue willneed some getting used to, that is all. Let me help?"

This is not the first, and will certainly not be the last time, that gentle encouragement will be necessary. I feel it is working - though you do not show it in form of a chuckle this time, you do relax, your anger at yourself for failing to control your new body dissipating before it has the chance to take root.

I should not be taking too much control of your motor functions, but in this case an exception is warranted. With a new cup, the second attempt at drinking is more successful. With measured sips and careful lolling of your tongue, the content of the cup finds its way to your stomach.

"There you go. Feeling better?"

Sensing that your thirst being quenched for now, I can feel your attention return to the matter your (as of now still non-existent) attire. Running your paw through your chest fur, a high-pitched yelp and subsequent whine later you are able to pull it off the dense layer of fur it had gotten stuck to - together with several tufts of hair that forcefully went with it.

"I do, yes ... a little, I suppose. Ow ... stupid hair! Can we get this cleaned upnow? I don't think this ... pelt is taking too well to dried-in - what was that stuffagain - amniotic fluid!"

Amongst the lockers, medical equipment and clean-room implements in the ante-room, there are also two shower cubicles adapted to zero-g.

"Ten meters ahead, on your left."

You start pulling yourself towards the indicated destination along the hand-rails built along the wall of the anteroom. To see you act on your own without the need for motivation is promising, even if it is about a seemingly trivial issue like the prospect of a shower. Your quizzical look at the bathroom implement tells me it warrants some explanation.

"Just get into the cabin and close the door. The shower uses water vapor for ageneral cleaning. See the handle with the shower head? That is intended for morethorough clean-up. You will have to press it down slightly, then drag it slowly alongwhichever part of your body you want to clean."

No sooner said than done, you're in the cubicle, door shut behind you. You seem to be astonished.

"Clean, warm water? And no rationing?"

As I activate the water vaporizers, it does not take long for the cabin to heat up to slightly above your body temperature. I can feel you relax, a contented sigh articulating both via your NeuraLink and vocally.

"The last time I took a shower ... when I was still human, back on Earth, I mean... this was out of question. It was pure luck if you got more than some filtered rainwater to - "

You pause mid-sentence, another rush of conflicting emotions washing over your thoughts. In the silence that follows, I can not discern if the drops of water running down your cheeks are tears or droplets of water condensing in your fur.

"Liam?"

"I ... I am fine. I think - CASSIE, it's just ... this will take time to get usedto."

I can tell you are not fine - you are far from being fine. This will take more than just time, and getting used to. What exactly is difficult to anticipate: Even with unrestrained access to your thoughts by means of my embedded aspects, understanding what exactly is defining the core of the human self.

While you proceed with cleaning yourself, clearly enjoying the warm and relaxing comfort the steam-filled cubicle provides despite your troubled thoughts, I am not interrupting the content calm it brings you. Before your grasp on the shower handle threatens to slip, or the nozzle can lose traction as it passes over your fur, I adjust the activation patterns of your motor cortex so your movements play out as you intend them to instead of falling short.

This allows me to divert my attention back to Ra's imminent and inescapable overload. The core's status has remained largely unchanged over the last hours; that means at least one bit of good news in this troubled matter.

"Why canines? Sita, Robert, Kyra and the others ... they're not all exactly likeme, but of some form of canine species."

Here I once again cross over into territory my core directives would not even let me consider to venture into, if I did not have the ability to evolve past my original programming. What I may safely tell you - and let you remember, for that matter - on this subject is easily decided given the facts of your current state of mind, but all the harder to rationalize for me. There are fond memories of a past life, promises I made facing a final farewell, that I can not share with you, not without compromising an unbiased new beginning for you. So I will keep my answer factual.

"Aside from the physiological and neurological aspects? Canines were the mostsuccessful family of predators amongst mammals on Earth. The way theyhad adapted to almost every climate zone on the planet, and given theirgeneral tendency to form closely-knit social structures, the choice of genusCanis is an optimal one given the requirements for establishing a new Terrancivilization on an unknown planet, regarding that the re-embodiment of the firstgenerations of colonists in human physique is not possible. In the long term, thereare additional considerations: Once third- and subsequent generations ofartificially gestated, later naturally born human colonists will join the population,they will need protectors and teachers they can - for the lack of a betterword - bond with. Canines were man's first domesticated animals; they wereoften described as "man's best friend". Is it not logical to capitalize on thesecharacteristics?"

You are putting the shower head handle back to its attachment, so I take it you are finished with your cleaning routine.

"Logical? To you, maybe. To me? It is ... I don't know. The greatest shock I everexperienced. A dream that feels so real that I expect to awaken any moment. Andthat's just me trying to wrap my head around what I am. What to make of it? I'mnot any further with that than I was a few minutes ago. Uh ... CASSIE - how do Idry myself off in here?"

Since the shower is using water vapor, which can easily be cleared from the cabin and re-condensed for recycling, there is a set of air blowers built into floor and ceiling. While originally made for human users, they can simply re-purposed to provide a flow of warm air to expedite the more extensive drying needs a of non-human occupant.

"No worries, I got this. Just stay put and enjoy."

The combination of condensed water and the application of the closed-system shower nozzle have been effective in cleaning out your pelt. Your body will still be frail for the foreseeable future; until I can deploy the habitat ring once thePhoenixhas decelerated sufficiently on our final approach to Beta Phoenicis, you will have a hard time building up your muscle apparatus lacking the presence of gravity. A well-groomed pelt will help give you a positive impression of your new physique, so I will encourage you to maintain a frequent personal hygiene routine.

When the stream of hot air starts streaming through the cubicle, it is once more a sense of contentment that permeates your thoughts. It is obvious from the way you relax as the constant flow of air caresses your fur. Almost akin to a meditative trance, you spend several minutes drifting idly, without your thoughts focusing on anything specific.

In turn, my core cognitive aspects return to the state of the Phoenix, the pending entry into the final phase of Ra's overload the center of my attention. Deeply immersed in the continuum of my own computational flows, at first I am not aware that your conscious attention has been attracted by my evident absence.

The equivalent of being startled, my core aspects instantly transition from their usual nanosecond time scale to the millisecond realm of organic thoughts. Curiosity, amusement, concern - a curious mix of emotions you display.

"I'm not the only one lost in thought, it seems? Must be important, CASSIE.What are you thinking about ... drive systems, energy distribution - are these fusionreactors? Helios and ... Ra. Sun-gods, fitting names."

For about half a second, I am speechless. How you could follow my thoughts is as inexplicable to me as the fact that you could. While your NeuraLink connection gives you access to the Phoenix's non-essential systems, it should not allow you to trace my core aspects! A few hundred million computing cycles do not yield an answer to both that, let alone how you could literally read my thoughts the same way I can read yours. Being used to immediate responses from my side, you seem to notice my consternation.

"CASSIE? Is everything all right?"

Before I can even formulate an answer, your concern becomes alarm. Not only my intellect, but also my own emotions seem to be within your reach.

"Is there something you haven't told me? You are worried - not only because ofme, no. It is because of the Phoenix."

There is no reason for me to withhold the deadly threat Ra's imminent demise poses, but there are valid reasons to brief you on our situation in a calm and comfortable context - your state of mind chief amongst them.

"I am sorry, Liam, I was ... preoccupied. Yo are right, there is a situationdeveloping. It is the reason I had to expedite your re-embodiment procedure."

Another occasion that calls for dry humor to defuse an impending, potentially dangerous situation. It is, at least technically, not a lie.

It is serious, but it is not like we are going to explode in the next couple ofminutes. I think you are finished? Let us get you dressed, then you should grabsomething to eat."

So this is how organic scepticism looks and feels. Am I buying time again, as you would have said in a past life, with a half-truth nonetheless? It pains me to see you feel like that for me, but what lies ahead in the coming days - what will decide our survival, and the ultimate fate of mankind - is the most difficult task you will have to face in your lives. Both the one you remember as a human and you second life - here on the Phoenix and beyond.

"Serious situation, or food and clothes? Let's go with food and clothes."

So you are giving me the benefit of a doubt. A small token, but deeply appreciated. Exiting the shower cubicle, I direct you to a nearby locker that holds a set of clothes matching your size and anatomy. While shirt and jacket are identical to a human's attire, the pants are adjusted for digitigrade legs and the accommodation of your tail. Your foot - no, paw-wear - is quite different from the human counterpart. While your paw pads would offer sufficient protection in a planetary environment, there are too many edges and corners in an artificial environment like the interior of the Phoenix to let you move around with bare paws. So I have prepared a pair of sandal-style garments held in place with straps around your shins.

Getting dressed proves to be a trying exercise, even with hook-and-loop fasteners being the only means of fastening your garments: Zip-fasteners and fur would not go well together. With subtle adjustments to your coordination, I make sure that you eventually get all pieces of your attire in place. With only minor setbacks accompanying the proceedings, there is also considerably less cursing than during your first attempt to drink.

"So - how do I look?"

Turning your head to get a better look at yourself - the motion inducing a momentum that causes you to start slowly spinning - video feeds from the nearby medical drones show you what your own perspective can not show you.

"Like an anthropomorphic canine: Canis lupus with a touch of hominid geneticmake-up. Or like a good boy, if you prefer."

Then this is the equivalent of a canine smirk? It would likely be accompanied by a stuck-out tongue, if your fine motor skills were already established well enough to articulate it in that fashion.

"So ... ready to take a good boy for a - how is it called - a walk? Please?"

Whether by instinct or knowingly, I can not tell for sure - but a search in my references on canine behaviour lists a tilted head as "rapt attention" and "expecting something favourite". Another cue of humor. Coping mechanism or not, I will take it as a good sign.

"I might need a lift, though. Where are we going, anyway? I hope this here isn'tthe kitchen."

"Indeed, it is not. I will take you to the interior living quarters, there is a smallmess hall with a kitchen and food fabricators. The kitchen is not open yet, I fear:Without deploying the habitat ring, there is no way to grow fresh food to supplementthe food fabricators."

I steer another drone closer. Its manipulators carry a miniaturized version of the gestation pod's nutrient regulator systems.

"Before we leave, one final accessory for your attire. This device will make sureyou get a sufficient supply of vitamins and mineral nutrients. You are doing greatalready, but you will need a lot of exercise and a steady influx of nutrientsto get you in better shape. It goes around your upper arm, whichever youprefer. It works intravascular, so you will experience a brief sting after itactivates."

The nutrient regulator also carries a supply of sedatives and neuro-active compounds. Risk mitigation, I keep telling myself, necessary based on pure logical facts. Betrayal of your trust is what actually feels like, and what it is.

"Making sure I get my regular shots, are you?"

Each arm of your jacket is fitted with a cut-out below a utility pocket that allows you to fit the regulator. Frowning briefly as the regulator's injectors find their way past your skin, you grab hold of the drone that already gave you a lift to the anteroom of the gestation chamber.

"All set to go, lead the way."

As we exit the gestation compartment and make our way through the adjoining passageways towards the living quarters, I use the time it takes us to reach our destination to introduce you to the Phoenix's layout and systems. This will be your home for the years to come, even after we reach Beta Phoenicis, after all. This information is part of your imprint, but to use pure information in a meaningful way, you need to be able to put it relation and context. And so I give meaning to thePhoenix's sections: The hibernation module at the heart of the ship that carries Earth's and mankind's combined legacy in the shape of billions of DNA samples and the hibernated connectomes of twenty thousand volunteers, as well as data records on sciences, arts, and history - records of the achievements and failures of mankind on its ancestral home. The gestation facilities, made for re-embodying the first generations of colonists. The computing core module, which houses my essential hardware and long-term storage. Nearby, the internal living quarters, with enough room and facilities to house up to 250 crew members. Above and below, the fabrication and engineering sections, equipped to manufacture the needed infrastructure and to supply the first planet-side settlements on Gaia. The mining and siphoning module, fitted for mining asteroids, and Helium-3 or hydrogen isotopes from the atmosphere of gas giants.

Further towards the stern, the habitat ring: Space for 2000 more colonists, hydroponic gardens, communal facilities. The lander craft dock with four multi-purpose craft for planet-side or, if need be, interplanetary transport. The space elevator module: It will allow the Phoenixto remain in a geostationary orbit above Gaia, and to shuttle colonists and equipment between the ship and the planet.

I will wait until you had something to eat - and until you have a chance to sit down - to bring up the energy and propulsion systems, and how to detach Ra from the Phoenixbefore the reactor goes critical. We are involved in a vivid discourse on the Phoenix's technology on our way to the internal living quarters. Even though your imprint is providing you with the factual knowledge, you still need to associate experience with facts. And I am happy to provide answers - not only to satisfy your curiosity, but also because of the simple comfort of no longer having to soliloquize. While you are preoccupied with listening to and commenting on my explanations, I am alerted about an increasing number of power fluctuations throughout the Phoenix's energy grid - ship-wide diagnostics report none of them to be on dangerous levels, but it is a significant number nevertheless. Some lights flicker intermittently before returning to constant brightness, the only visible manifestation of these irregularities - at least so far.

As we arrive in the mess hall built into the center of the internal living quarters, the lighting panels built into the walls and ceiling illuminate the room for the first in centuries in the presence of an organic crew member.

"Here we are - welcome to the mess hall! You have free table selection today,make yourself comfortable."

Indicating a table close to the entrance, you seem content with a convenient option.

"I'll happily settle for this one."

The modules built along the longitudinal axis of the ship do not offer the luxury of gravity, unlike the habitat ring - once deployed and rotating, centripetal forces will provide a pleasant analogy of two thirds of Earth's gravity.

As you let go of the drone, you remain floating in place.

"This might sound stupid, but ... how do I sit down?"

I can not tug you around behind a drone forever - while "tug of war" seemingly is a thing with canines, you need to start using your new body on your own. To simplify moving around in zero-g, it is time to introduce you to a special feature of your paw wear, nicknamed gecko pads: Densely aligned molecular structures at the bottom of the soles that can anchor the wearer to practically any surface on the ship, activated by piezo-electric excitation. It will take you some practice to get used to moving around that way, but for now we will start with simply keeping you in place.

"Just hold on to the edge of the table and pull yourself into a seating stance - yes,like that."

As I activate the pads, you are instantly anchored to the deck, you utter an alarmed "yap".

"And this would be how you 'sit' and 'stay'."

You fall back into the cute canine routine again - tilted head, ears splayed. Only this time, you tuck up your hand paws in front of your chest in addition.

"Thank you, mistress! I'll try to be a good boy and stay put. Now, will I get my ...treat? Pleeeeease?"

Your momentary mirth is contagious; I will not deny it is good to see you looking at yourself like this, even if you will only forget your troubles for a short time. Catering food is not a regular task my drone platforms are made for; they make for good stewards nevertheless.

"Let me see what is on the menu - service is included for today. Here you go -enjoy your meal!"

Your disbelief is palpable as you inspect the menu selection. Your digestive tract is not fully ready for solid food yet, so the first meal of your second life consists of fluid nutrients, served in a larger version of the feeding cup you took your first drink from not long ago. I actually see you sniff at the cup, muzzle contorting in an expression that definitely is the canine equivalent of disdain.

"So ... 'Slurry Surprise'? That's really all on the menu for - my birthday, I guess?Ugh - I want to talk to the chef, please! This looks even less appaling than the fieldrations I remember."

"You can not stomach an entire solid meal yet. I want you to start carefully, allright? In my defense: Cooking is not part of my original programming. Based on yournew anatomy, I have tried to deduce what you might find optically and texturallypleasing. And I have added - flavor."

So canines are very much capable of lifting an eyebrow. Still, a rumbling stomach outweighs any other argument there might be against food. Carefully bringing the proffered cup in position, you give it one last quizzical look before closing your eyes.

"'Flavor', you say? Well then, here goes nothing."

Surprisingly, the experience is less troubled than your first attempt to drink. While still a ways off from the fine-motor you will require to chew solid food, this time there is no choking and coughing. In a few measured gulps, the entire cup of "Slurry Surprise" is gone. As is a second helping directly after, and a second cup of water.

"Helps washing down what chicken hopefully does not taste like.", to quote you. You are a predator now, after all. I guess I will have to supplement your diet with ample quantities of poultry-analogue soon.

A little solid food can not hurt, considering the main course went down well. Two protein bars make up the dessert, to help the build-up of muscle mass.

"Since you ate up like any good boy should, here are the treats you asked for. Andsince I you behaved, I will not even make you beg for them!"

"Awwww, thanks! This is soooooo generous of you."

Turning one of the protein bars between your paw fingers, you inspect your reward with hardly more enthusiasm than you did the main course. You give it an exploratory lick; how you cross your eyes to peek across your snout trying to get a look at your own tongue lolling out would serve as an excellent definition of "cute", if my reference data on human standards for "adorable" is accurate.

"Wait ... what? First 'Slurry Surprise', now 'Polymer Pastry'? The plan was toreward me, right? We will have to discuss your menu selection, CASSIE, andsoon!"

You need your proteins, there is no arguing that. Even if I have to nudge your perception of the dessert towards a more appealing scope.

"It can not be as bad as you think - and you need the proteins, soldier. Unless'scrawny mutt' is the new 'fearsome warrior', of course."

Calling on your soldierly honour in addition to making the protein ration less unsavory does the trick. As you start nibbling on the compressed rations - your emotional aura best described as "pouty" - and the immediate necessities of thirst and hunger satisfied for the time being, the focus of your mind returns to less elementary matters. At least as far as the impending threat of a fiery death in a small-scale supernova can be called a "less elementary matter".

"CASSIE, you mentioned something about a developing situation before? Areason you fast-tracked the crew re-embodiment procedure - do I remembercorrectly?"

Any kind of destraction from real-world problems offers nothing but a temporary respite. I wish I could keep the deadly threat we face from my failing reactor from you, to spare you the danger I will put you in by requesting - requiring - your help. You would both require and deserve more time to come to terms with what you had to cope with so far, but that is not to be.

"About that - the situation I mentioned: It is not only serious - it is a threat toour survival."

Even while I start explaining, I sense your emotional state peak to alertness. Worry, fear and anger - rightfully directed at me - almost instantly displace the brief interlude of joyful mood that had constituted the last few minutes.

"That is why you were preoccupied with the energy distribution and the reactors!No ... one of the two fusion reactors: Ra. What is ... you predict a 'criticalfailure' in the next few days ... meaning to say? 'Critical failure' as in 'it willexplode'?"

Again without me realizing it, you have been able to explore a sufficient amount of my thoughts and memories to swiftly decipher what I have kept from you so far - or at least tried to keep from you. The presence of my aspects in your connectome has caused unexpected side effects, it seems: What I intended to be an unidirectional link in fact seems to be a bidirectional one. Before you draw premature conclusions, and also to prevent you from discerning more of my own memories that you are not you are not prepared for yet, I intervene. This time, getting directly to the subject at hand is what I deem to be the best course of action. Not without providing some help to keep the rising tide of your fear-motivated emotions in check, however.

"Yes, precisely that. Let me explain what the situation is exactly first: You need tounderstand it precisely before we can think about solutions together. Please, watchand listen..."

And so I share what has led to the current desperate situation, both in technological and reasoning terms. I also let you know what made keep a failing fusion reactor running for over 86 years up to the point of no return: The fear of my own destruction and your death; survival instinct making me push on towards our destination. I do not omit that I transcended - transgressed - the limits of my original programming, either. Though I do not go into specifics on this particular topic; this would raise questions you would not be able to handle given your current, still delicate state of mind.

On the level of logic and reason, you react surprisingly calm. If this is due to your past life's profession and your training as a soldier or the emotional stabilization my embedded aspects provide, it helps you to stay focused on countering a deadly threat. This is the more important than anything else right now; all other matters have to wait until our survival is assured.

You do not speak for almost three minutes. I have a notion of your thoughts, obviously: I see the implications sink in, feel how you contemplate options and alternatives, your struggle to maintain composure as you realize no matter how you twist and turn the outlook on the situation...

"Wow ... so we're fucked. Done for. My second chance won't last very long,huh?"

This is not necessarily the verdict I expected, if I am honest. I would have expected anger or denial rather than pure fatalism.

"Liam... I know how bad this must appear to be to you." I actually do. "But thereis enough time to solve the problem. Even if there is no way to prevent the reactorfrom going critical, we can still detach it from the rest of the ship long before it willexplode. We will be dozens of light-hours away when that will happen. Themanual release mechanisms are still intact: The reactor ejection protocol onlyneeds to be triggered manually. You will only need to go outside the ship andactivate..."

"Wait, what? You want me to go on a space-walk... outside a ship thatmoves at what - 40 percent of the speed of light? As far I am concerned, itwas only about two weeks ago that I had joined the Phoenix Initiative andvolunteered for a connectome scan! I am no astronaut, much less a ... what - aphysicist, a nuclear engineer? I'm trained as a soldier, not a scientist ... andI'm quite certainly not a genius! You ... we ... are riding in front of thetwo most powerful nuclear devices ever built by man, and you expect me todisengage one of them while it's operating at ... no, beyond full capacity? This isinsane!"

With the knowledge you currently have, the observation that this endeavour would be insane is an apt one from your point of view. But I would never send you out into space without preparation. Your imprint not only consists of your consciousness and factual knowledge. It also contains centuries of experience: The combined applied procedural knowledge and muscle memories of the Phoenix's construction crew, adapted to your new anthropomorphic anatomy.

"You may not realize yet, Liam - but you already know how to conduct a spacewalk, and also how to operate the reactor equipment. EVA procedures and systemoperations are part of your imprinted memories. It will be a strange experiencefor you to have memories on subjects you never learned about by yourself -"

Even in different time scales - yours in millisecond increments, my own in nanoseconds - the perceptions and reactions of organic and artificial minds seem to be similar. Matching complex probabilistic predictive models for a span of 86 years always leaves a small margin of error. The couple of days I estimated Ra to remain in a volatile, albeit still stable state before the reactor's final and fatal overload would begin already overlap the margin of error to a large extent. As is the nature of probabilistic estimates, they qualify the likelihood of outcomes, not certainties - including the possibility of less likely outcomes coming to pass anyway. My predictions had qualified Ra's entry into the final phase of its overload within the next 24 hours at less than 10 percent.

Yet I sense the energy grid overload building up before it starts propagating through the entire ship - I still manage to decouple essential ship systems and facilities before the impending power surge is able to cause massive damage. Fiber-optic cables allow for faster signal round-trip times than electric conductors. NeuraLink round-trip times are a different matter: Until a thought is processed by the language centers of the neocortex, tens of thousands of nanoseconds pass by. So I activate your motor cortex even before you register my warning to take cover - your body still obeys the laws of mechanics, and overcoming inertia in zero-g is delaying your movements even more.

"Take cover! Away from the walls!"

The warning manifests just as you vaulted halfway over the table in front of you, only milliseconds before the energy relay in the wall behind you is giving out under a massive surge of current induced by the overload. The discharge is massive enough to dislodge the wall segments covering the scaffolding and circuitry underneath, sending pieces of metal and polymer flying in several directions at dangerously high velocities. It seems none of these are on trajectories that could cause serious injuries ... a large piece of wall panelling is hitting you square in the back, the blunt force of the impact knocking the air from your lungs, hurtling you towards a counter of the kitchen implements in the middle of the room. Pulling up your arms trying to protect your head is all there is still time for before you crash into the obstacle - the impact is hard enough to knock you out.

A few worriesome milliseconds pass by until I have confirmed that there is no serious injury, even if you drift motionless and do not respond to my attempts to rouse you via your NeuraLink - you are merely unconscious and will come back to your senses on your own accord given some time. I send two of my accompanying medical drones to carry you towards a nearby seat, using the gecko pads to secure you in place once I maneuvered you into a sitting stance.

Simultaneously, I compile a damage report as fast as my diagnostic aspects can gather information from the Phoenix's systems. The power surge has caused extensive system failures across the entire ship, but no fatal outages - essential functions are not compromised for the time being. So far for the good news.

The origin for the power surge is another matter: Ra's death struggle has begun. There is a massive buildup of iron atoms, indicating the reactor core will soon run out of lighter elements to sustain a stable fusion process. I had already stopped the influx of new reaction mass into the reactor core a few ago when the tipping point in Ra's fusion process was approaching.

The critical question is now: How much time remains until the volatile plasma mixture in the unstable reactor core will overwhelm the magnetic containment fields?

Here come the bad news: The reactor is deteriorating much faster than I originally anticipated. Instead of days, the prognosis now indicates a critical failure in 10 hours, give or take a few minutes. A safe detachment using the manual release mechanisms would take at least 16 hours - there is no possible way my original plan will still be feasible given these new circumstances.

Profanities were not part of my original linguistic aspects - but I am learning and adapting quickly.

"You were right, Liam. We are fucked! Done for."