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I made my choice on the arm. As much as I wanted the natural-looking one, in a vain attempt to cling onto the idea of being a warm, natural being, it wasn't what I needed. What I needed was something to at least give me a chance to defend myself against Two. It wasn't as if I could actually fight him; he was, after all, in a fully combat-capable frame, but maybe I could fend him off. And then do what? It wasn't as if there was anywhere Kevin and I could go. My best choice was still to stay on Two's good side, to play along with whatever he was doing, and what he wanted me to do was to go ahead with the augmentations.

But the station did have the other conglomerates. Maybe they had a saner approach? They did, from what I understood, use wildly different technologies in this blind quest to save civilization. The problem was that there was no way to actually get to the other sections, at least not through the interior; the station might've been co-financed by all three arms of the research effort, but soon after the beginning they'd all sealed each other off to pursue their own goals. That was my plan, however, if things truly became unbearable at The Company. Somehow make it across to the others, and tell them everything. Maybe they'd at least let me and Kevin live. But it was a distant hope. For all I knew, they might be gearing up for war as well.

What were we even fighting? Why were there so many weaponized frames? Was it merely that base urge for conflict that drove them? Did Two actually have plans or know something that he'd chosen not to reveal? My thoughts, as I laid down to sleep, landed on aliens. I'd read those books, back on earth. Musty old tomes recording the fantasies of the pre-scorching civilizations. Often those dreams had earth being invaded, and sometimes of earth being the invaders. There weren't a lot of books left, but as a scavenger, I came across them every now and then, and even if it was a frivolous waste of time, I couldn't help but read them. So in our free time, when others were mating or drinking, I had always been reading those old books, figuring out what the earth had been like back then, or at least what they dreamt of. My parents had always found it charming, calling me their little librarian.

But it did beg the question. Were we under attack? If we were, I had to imagine it was by Two's inner demons, at most. Glitches created in the conversion process. But if there was a real threat, then I'd only doom us all if I somehow disrupted his plans. Too many questions, and not enough answers. Another night of fitful sleep.

I woke up confused again. It was hard to tell if it was night or day, as if those concepts really existed in space anyway. The station had simulated light, but after spending my entire childhood and then some on the sun-baked earth, it was surprisingly hard to adapt to darkness. My new lodgings had a window, of course (which I worried might break occasionally) but all I saw through that was the black void of space, currently, with a few stars that were too far away to lend me much of their light. I was worried that I'd slept in, and then that I hadn't slept enough.

"Wakefulness detected. You have - no - work schedule for today, Thirteen. You have a - modification - procedure in - eight hours. You should aim to be well rested for this appointment," Uni announced.

I suppose I hadn't slept enough, but not being reminded that I was about to have my arm replaced would've been better for my sleep. It was a necessary evil, I'd managed to convince myself, but that didn't help me like it. At least it ran off the body's natural currents, rather than needing recharging like the full frames. It did, however, require one to eat more - which was part of the reason the modified got better and larger meals.

I didn't pretend to understand how it all worked.

Soon enough, I managed to close my eyes and drift off again, even if it was restless sleep. I woke up confused. It was hard to tell if it was night or day, but there was no night or day in space. There was a simulated sunrise and sunset on the station, sure, but I'd spent my whole childhood on earth, where there was no darkness, at least nowhere that I'd lived.

"Wakefulness detected. A COPY, A SHADE CAST BY NOTHING. You have - no - work schedule for today, Thirteen. You have a - modification - procedure in - eight hours. You should aim to FIND WHICH CASTS THE SHADOW," Uni announced.

I did still feel tired. I felt as if I was dreaming still, even. As if I had woken up countless times and experienced the same thing. Like I was looping through the same events each time I woke up. But that was ridiculous. I tried to fall back asleep, thinking of home, thinking of Kevin. What he'd be up to. Probably sleeping as well, hopefully better than I was. Eventually, I think I managed to doze off, though it barely felt like sleep.

I woke up confused again. It was hard to tell what time it was. I knew it at least wasn't time for my appointment yet, because otherwise the station would already be lit up, my quarters included. There were-

A cold chill ran down my spine. A nauseous feeling of something being horribly wrong. I opened my eyes and realized I was staring at the brightest light I'd ever seen. I couldn't feel anything except the light burning my wide-open eyes and something warm dripping down the side of my head, just behind my left ear.

"Subject is awake," a robotic voice observed. "Everything is going as it should be, Thirteen," it addressed me, but I couldn't reply. My jaw wouldn't move. "We will sedate you again. You may be experiencing some confusion due to new electrical activity in your brain. You will adapt quickly." My eyes fell shut despite the rising panic, and soon, the light was gone, faded away as our sun would fade one day.

I woke up confused again. What time was it? I realized I was a copy, like the simulated sunrise of the station. What was the original? No. It was the memory that was the copy, I was still myself, at least for now. I followed the trail of fragmented thoughts, each version with its own errors, small idiosyncrasies. What was happening? Something had to have gone wrong. I'd only been meant to have a new arm, but they'd clearly done something more than that.

I opened my eyes. It was cold and dark, but I wasn't in my quarters. I was laying somewhere else. A fully converted canine of some kind was sitting next to me, silently observing me with an unmoving, watchful gaze.

"You are awake," it observed, matter-of-factly. "The modification was successful, though you may be experiencing some mental distortion due to new connections. It is temporary."

"I didn't want any-" I began to reply, groaning weakly in response. It was hard to find the words.

"Your new limb is connected directly to your neurons. It is a necessity," the machine answered. "Two also insisted that we begin work on allowing you to easily accept more modifications in the future-" he continued, but my new arm was already at his neck.

"I didn't request any other upgrades," I snarled, feeling his metal neck yield underneath the hydraulics of my new arm. He showed no signs of pain. I was impossibly angry, sheer fury coursing through my every nerve, burning in every molecule in my body.

"You are an investment, now," the canine replied, in exactly the same tone as before, even though I was slowly crushing his neck. I felt something give and snap. And I snapped out of it, my arm falling from his neck. "The upgrades are a necessity," he continued, moving to assess the damage, running a few fingers along the crushed metal of his neck. Was this how Two experienced every emotion? "All that's been done is the installation of a prerequisite neural framework. Your mind is still organic and will adapt, as organic things do. There may, as you've noticed, be occasional _absolute_feelings as you process your new additions. But nothing is wrong, and as we continue improving you, you will be able to enable or shut down any feelings at will."

I tuned out most of his monologue. He didn't seem to mind what I'd done, and why would he? Every part of him could be replaced as long as the mind remained safely stored. Maybe even the mind could be COPIED. COPIED INFINITELY. ONE MIND IN COUNTLESS BODIES.

I shuddered, my mechanical arm whirring as it twitched. Those jarring, invasive thoughts were getting worse. I still had no idea what they were, except - and it was my only hope other than insanity - Uni speaking directly to me rather than via the loudspeakers. It would make sense, given that I know I had some kind of interface that might allow him to do that, now. After all, new limb was somehow connected to my nerves. But how had it happened before, then? Maybe my memories were simply thrown into disorder by the process. It worried me. But there was a fearful truth to them. Once a mind had been fully digitalized, what would stop them from copying it beyond the vanity of the original user?

EACH COPY DEGRADING LIKE A TAPE REPLICATED TOO MANY TIMES. THE PROCESS IS NOT PERFECT.

The canine left once he'd made sure that his neck remained functional, although his head was lolling to the side as he walked. It didn't seem to bother him. That's what was the most unsettling to me, how these bodies of the future could be damaged without causing anything more than an inconvenience to the mind within. Maybe that was why Two cared so little about damage caused. Maybe he'd simply forgotten how it was to be organic. But then again, hadn't I first met him immediately after his conversion? Or, the thought occurred to me, had he merely been transferred into a new body?

I'd have to ask him, I had to know. Yet I immediately felt that lump of anxiety in the pit of my stomach as I imagined doing so.

I had no time to dwell on those worries for long. Only a few minutes passed between the mechanized dog leaving and several men in white robes coming in, to gather around my prone body.

"Normally, you'd be expected to train the use of your new limb by yourself. But Two has decided that you need to be up and running as fast possible," an elderly cat spoke, sounding mildly annoyed, a pair of green slit eyes fixated on me. He seemed to have four robot limbs, leaving only his torso and head organic. "Get up. You wouldn't be feeling anything worse than weakness, maybe dizziness too. And the emotional flux, but with how few implants you have that shouldn't be a dealbreaker," he added, taking a deep breath to balance out how fast he was talking, as if he just wanted to be done with it.

I got up with no issues. My arm, however, was proving harder to control. They led me to a side room with a table and a variety of objects, from balls to eggs. I'd seen Two use eggs to master his arm. Helped him, even. So I knew what to expect.

I managed to grab the ball with a little difficulty. The strangest thing was that I initially felt nothing, but then the tactile sensation of the fuzzy surface came all at once, as if delayed until the object had been fully... analyzed? I didn't know, exactly, but as I moved it back and forth between my new and old hands, I realized that the mechanical one felt more details. Not exactly in the same way, but close enough. Like a machine interpreting something that an organic mind recognized immediately. I couldn't imagine why they'd make a fuzzy ball, though.

"It's a tennis ball, tubeweasel," the cat commented, noticing me staring at it. "They used to play these things called sports on Earth? You know, hit balls with... ugh, never mind. Grab the egg."

I knew exactly what the idea was, so I was already prepared to apply far less pressure than would've felt natural. Slowly, gingerly, I enclosed my fingers around the shell, very carefully holding it until the tactile sensation came; smooth, cold, round, organic. I brought it up to my face to examine it, never using more strength than necessary.

And then it exploded, splattering messily over my face and body.

The cat burst into laughter. "Oh gods, your expression-" he snorted, though he quickly collected himself. "Yeah, that'll happen. You had the right idea, but your grip strength's something like a dozen times stronger than organics, yes? What feels like little would be a white-knuckle grip for your old arm, or harder," the cat chuckled. "It's always best to demonstrate with a failure, that's why we use the eggs. You'll have to rethink what pressure feels like."

I stood there with what must've been a sour look on my face.

"Tell me, do you feel anything out of the ordinary? You're not reacting in the typical way," he asked. "The emotional flux, has it already subsided?"

"How would you expect me to react?" I replied.

"Well, I do believe..." he mumbled, flipping through a few pages on his notepad. "Yeah. You've spend some time assisting Two? That's how you'd usually react. Though with just one limb it's not always guaranteed."

"What is the emotional flux?" I asked. "Do you feel it? I mean-" I stopped, gesturing towards him. He did have four mechanical limbs, after all.

"I'm a scientist. I have no use for aggression," he grinned. "So I had them scramble my amygdala," he added. "Well, what's not required for basic functionality, anyway. In other words, no. I'd highly recommend the procedure. No anxiety, no fear, and no anger. Sure, no sex drive either, but it's not like there's much use for that here, anyway," the cat continued. "Besides, I'm old."

I held my tongue. It sounded horrible, and not only because of how enamoured I was with Kevin. But then, why did Two - who was fully robotic - feel any of those things?

"The emotional flux is probably errors in thought processing, caused by forcing the old consciousness to flow through circuitry rather than nerves," he explained. I did notice his eyes lighting up, and I could tell I'd be here for a while. I grabbed another egg as I listened, focusing hard on regulating how much pressure I was applying. "...the fully cybernetic brains, we don't exactly know how they work. They're of One's design. The man was a genius, though sadly lost, now. We're still trying to catch up with his theories and thoughts..."

I managed to bring the egg up to my face without cracking it, though my arm was trembling, as if having difficulty understanding what I was trying to do. Just like an organic limb might tremble when its owner was anxious about trying something new.

"Oh, that's good. Very good," the feline commented. "As I was saying, though, I think it's a necessary result of reducing everything to patterns of binaries..."

It was all interesting. But it was all way over my head. He went on to explain about how - as I understood it - the pattern that makes up consciousness is replicated exactly in the robotic brains, but that before the user can adjust, there would be an adjustment period, leading to what he called "emotional flux". Meaning that the brains weren't programmed to do much of anything, but rather only to recreate the organic consciousness. At least, that was his working hypothesis.

As I said, all way over my head. What was important was that they knew those errors happened. A thought dawned on me, though,

"Are the copies really perfect, though?" I asked. I was still holding the egg, now daring to move it between my new hand and the old one.

"Well, they'd have to be," he replied. "Otherwise the result would be someone else. And as far as we know - or can empirically prove - the resulting person is the same one that was lost. The continuity is flawless, so to speak." He paused for a moment. "Although... if it was close enough, we'd never know."

"If the person is the same one, what's to stop you from just copying them again? What'd happen to them if they inhabited two bodies?" I asked. Did I really want to know the answer?

"Well, imagine for yourself that your consciousness was shared between two bodies? A dozen? Perhaps a hundred? It'd certainly take its toll, yes? There's a very real reason we have safeguards against that. Each new mind is registered, and copies cannot be produced while they're still active," he stated, his expression suddenly grim.

I didn't inquire any further.

We finished my training routine, and then the cat let me go. I never did learn his name. Names seemed less and less important in this place with each passing day. Well, all except the one that mattered: Kevin. Of course the first thing I did after being allowed to leave the medical deck was to seek him out.

The fact that they'd allowed me exactly two days off so I'd have time to adjust to my new limb in everyday use almost made it worth it. Almost. There wasn't much I really wanted to do, time off or not, but at least I wouldn't have to meet Two. That by itself was a relief. But regardless I felt a gnawing kind of anxiety, worrying about what the fox might think of me. If he'd be alright with how I'd been mutilated. It _was_necessary, I told myself, and to some extent, that was the truth. If nobody sacrificed themselves for this measure of progress, everyone would die on earth, along with civilization itself. I'd have lived a short life, I'd have never even met Kevin, and in the end, there'd be nothing left. The arm functioned more or less as a natural extension, but it was much colder than the rest of my body and several times during my convalescence I'd woken up startled, not recognizing it immediately as my own. And the fact that they'd done something to my very mind in the process left me feeling violated.

I'd suppressed it until then, but the moment I found Kevin - with my new, higher clearance, I'd been able to look up where his lodgings were rather than waiting for him to come to me - I couldn't any longer. He looked at me with a mixture of happiness and trepidation, but he didn't shy away, and why would he? All things considered, it was only my arm that'd changed. But I wrapped both that and my organic arm around him, buried my muzzle in his neck, and cried. It wasn't something I was used to, we learned to show as few emotions as possible on earth, but I couldn't help it. He didn't know what to say, but he did stroke his fingers through my hair reassuringly, simply letting me pour our what felt like months of pent up worries and anxieties, my tears soaking into his fur.

I told him I didn't want the arm, even though I'd chosen to get it. I didn't want to end up like Two. I told him I didn't want to meet Two again, unable to bear the responsibility of having to stop him from outright murdering his staff. I told him about the voices at the edge of sleep, about what they'd done to me to actually make the arm respond to my commands. Throughout it all he didn't say anything, but he never stopped petting me, cradling me close to himself as he simply listened. And then I fell quiet too, quietly sobbing

"I don't mind it, you know," he finally spoke, softly. "As long as you're still you. You could be a robot and I'd like you anyway,"

Somehow, that made it all better. If only for the moment, I felt grounded, despite being so many miles from any kind of real ground. Kevin, in a way, was my ground, my earth. He was impulsive, certainly, and often flighty, but he was always there; a constant in the chaotic scramble for the stars. We talked about everything. He'd never met Two, but he remembered people like him from earth, those who didn't even need modifications to lose control of themselves. I had, apparently, been spared the very worst of humanity. The fox had not.

Then again, I didn't know how Two had been before his modifications. Maybe he'd always been like that. Violent and unpredictable. A thought struck me, then. What happened to One? How did Two end up taking his place? I resolved to ask others. Maybe I could ask the ship's AI. After all, with how high into the hierarchy I'd been suddenly lifted, maybe I had clearance that they'd forgotten about.

Kevin stroked the shaved part of my head, already just about fully healed. I winced, but despite the discomfort, I let him continue, even as he began undressing me, perhaps out of curiosity to see how I was reacting to the new limb. Or perhaps out of genuine desire. I welcomed the interruption, either way; I didn't really want to think about anything but the warm comfort of his body against mine. One day we wouldn't have that luxury anymore, but maybe we'd have more. His presence always inspired a certain optimism in me. Maybe we'd be able to link our minds directly to one another, once we were both fully synthetic. Would it be as intimate as our warm moments together? I didn't know, but at least it was something I could think of to make the future seem less gloomy.

"It's just like nerves, isn't it?" he murmured. "Connections carrying signals between nodes. Only it was made by the watchmaker's hand, rather than blindly..."

I opened my eyes to look at him, a wide toothy grin plastered all over his face.

"I read that in a book I found, once! Well, the cover of it anyway," he laughed. I laughed too.

The tension was broken, at least for a moment. So I snuggled up to him, pressing myself tightly against his soft, warm body from behind. It wasn't meant to be a sexual thing, but as I was quickly learning, being so close to the one you loved - though thinking about it still felt strange to me - always tended to lead to those things. Some parts of you swelling, instinctively, growing firm and ready from just their presence.

I don't know why I even felt shy about it. We'd already done it once. He wanted me, and I wanted him. I tugged my pants down just enough to ease that growing pressure, inhaling deeply to calm my nerves.

But there was that nagging voice of doubt in my mind. Was this what I actually wanted? The affection was quickly kindled into a smoldering lust, threatening to become a wildfire of desire. Faster than normal. That binary thinking, the emotional flux. Was it me, or had the procedure changed me?

My hips nudged against his soft, shapely rear. Not with any conscious input, but rather, my body acting on its own, seeking to sate those needs. It's not like I didn't want it. Every fiber of my being did, desperately so, but still I hesitated, even when I knew for sure that he could feel my bare shaft nudge between his cheeks with another little grind here, a hump there. He didn't move, though I heard and let his breath quicken.

It's strange how readily all that came, those urges and desires. That nagging pressure in the back my mind telling me how good it'd feel to just sink into him, to feel that lithe vulpine body envelop my maleness. Maybe this is how it was all meant to feel, or maybe it was traumatic bonding. I had no point of reference, no way to know. All I knew was what I wanted. What he wanted, too, perhaps even more so.

"Do y-" I asked, but he cut me off.

"Please do," he murmured, arching his back to grind back against my growing erection.

I wondered if he was hard too. I could've just felt it, could've made sure. But somehow I was scared of what I might find. What if he wasn't? Love was full of insecurities, it seemed.

I fumbled for the lube. Company-branded, but yet generic somehow. I didn't even know what he used it for, other than this. Though it made my heart leap to imagine he bought it just for us. It's silly, why wouldn't he? But the gesture was somehow deeply meaningful to me. Then again, everything he did was deeply meaningful. Every breath he took, every shiver of his frame against mine, every twitch of his ears and big, fluffy tail. All of it was imbued by this mystical sense of importance by my lovestruck mind.

I didn't mind it.

He was grinding his ass against me, against my bare, firm otterhood. The tip lodged against his eager little entrance, right in the middle of that incredibly hot part of his body, drawing a synchronized gasp from both of us. I held back the urge to thrust even as he pushed back harder, wanting to enjoy the moment. I felt his body slowly yield, relaxing against my tip, slick with both precum and lube.

And then, with a pop that felt loud but was barely audible, I sunk into him, his pucker stretching around my shaft. It felt like heaven. That incredible heat, the utter tightness, the warmth of his body pressed against mine as we both trembled with pure, primitive need as well as almost virginal affection, despite us already having mated before. It was my first time. I didn't know if it was his, too, but none of that mattered. We were finally joined.

I couldn't hold back anymore. I let my paws clutch him where I could, claws digging into his hips as I surrendered to those animal instincts and began to rut. He moaned, and it egged me on, my breath hissing from between clenched teeth as I drove myself into his eager depths, over and over again in a dance as old as time, one that all our ancestors had taken part of. Maybe we'd be the last to do it.

It only took a few thrusts before my sack was aching, pulling tightly against my crotch, my entire world focused fully on that sensation of his tightness stroking along the length of my arousal, driving me wild with desire. I reached for his sheath, wanting him to feel it too, and a churr escaped my lips as I found him hard as steel, wet with vulpine precum, throbbing eagerly against my palm as I clasped my webbed fingers around that length of his. A gentle pump, the sliding of my fingers down his cock made him moan out again, and the sound was music to my ears. Everything was alright, just then and there, and nothing else mattered.

He pressed himself against me, whimpering happily, clutching at my shoulder, my head, anything he could reach, and I was doing much the same with my free paw. Kneading his soft yet masculine chest, stroking his belly, rubbing over his nipples, I couldn't get enough. No, I wanted every inch of him, every little part of his beautiful body, just like this, forever. I felt his shaft buck in my grasp, a wet heat gathering on my palm as I pumped. It wouldn't last long, no matter how much I wanted it to. But we'd do it over and over again, until... we couldn't. And then we'd figure out a way to keep doing it somehow. We had to. It felt like he was made for me, his body enveloping my shaft in such warm, tight bliss.

A few more thrusts and he came, throbbing heavily against my fingers, another of those sweet cries spilling from his muzzle. I felt his seed spray out over the bed, some of it even oozing out over my paw, warm and creamy, as he squirmed and writhed. And I couldn't hold back anymore, the pressure in my loins growing unbearable. I must've moaned out too, just like he did, as I passed the point of no return, knowing that there'd be no going back, I'd cum either in or on him. And my instincts said in, so I slammed all the way into him, burying my bucking shaft as deep into his wonderful body as I could, and held it there, grunting and whimpering, as I reached my peak. I'd never felt quite like that before. The wonderful satisfaction of feeling his warmth enveloping, squeezing me as I spilled my seed where it belonged, rather than just all over my paw. It felt amazing, knowing that with each ecstatic spasm of my maleness I was leaving my cum inside him, like a token of the love I felt, a part of me shared with the fox. I felt it slosh around inside him, around my tip. And that only made me spurt more of myself into him, in thick gouts. Some of it spilled out of him despite the tight seal his pucker made around my cock, and I didn't mind it in the slightest.

When it was over, I slumped against him, and we both laid there panting, whispering those sweet nothings to each other, giggling and sighing as we basked in the afterglow. I told him how much I loved him. He commented on how he'd have to wear two pairs of underwear to stop leaking my cum all over the station. I laughed. It was so silly, but in that moment I was happy being silly, stupid, and not thinking about anything more important than how cutely he was wiggling against me, teasing our the last few drops of my cum each time a pleasant little aftershock shot through me.

When I finally pulled out of him, the sight of my seed leaking from his well-used rear was almost enough to get me hard again. Almost.

We didn't do anything more that evening, beyond laying there and talking. Yet, even then, time passed entirely too quickly, and soon Kevin had to sleep, to prepare for another day at work. I thought about staying there to cuddle him, but I was still full of nervous energy despite him having soothed me for a while. It was time to do what research I could before I had to meet with Two again.

On my way back to my quarters, though, I met someone I'd seen only briefly on our very first day. A female mink, which was already a rarity, as the station, or at least the company, seemed to prefer males. That wasn't what caught my attention, though. Rather, it was the fact that she sought me out.

"Oh. You. Wait." she stated, freezing in place. I could tell that she was more modified than I was; as not only were her eyes synthetic - scanning up and down my form as if trying to ascertain my identity - but both her legs had been replaced as well. And perhaps not too long ago, given that her gait was still wobbly. Other than that she looked fairly natural; a white mink with short hair, her short tail twitching in sync with the darting eyes. A grin spread on her muzzle.

"Finally found you," she spoke. "Alex."

"How do you-" I replied.

"Oh, the ship's computer told me to find you," she replied, rather matter-of-factly.

"But why-"

"Heck if I know, just told me that we needed to meet, and I had time off." she replied, pausing. "Oh, did you know you're emitting tons of infrared radiation?"

"Is that... bad?" I asked. It seems silly in retrospect.

"Just means you're warmer than usual. Nervous? Never mind, don't answer. It's not important," she added.

"So Uni told you to find me? Why would it do that?" I asked.

"Like I said, I haven't got a clue!" she chirped. "'Find Thirteen' is what it said. So I did. And here you are. I mean if I had to guess I'd say it wants us to talk about something?"

I looked at her more closely. In a life that felt like it had all taken place ages ago, I would've relished the opportunity to talk with someone like her. She was attractive, and none of the cybernetic limbs diminished one bit. I tried not to let my gaze linger on her curves. I didn't even know why I looked to begin with. Instincts, maybe. But right now, I was more nervous than anything, anxious and absolutely not in the mood for any kind of further intimacy. That, and Kevin had done a pretty good job at coaxing out the last remaining fragments of lust from me, at least for the time being.

"It's kinda funny how the computer only talks to you once you've been modded, isn't it?" she pondered, aloud.

That part, I knew wasn't true. What else could those voices at the edge be of sleep be, if not Uni? Assuming that I wasn't going insane, and I had to assume that, given that otherwise every other assumption I could make would be incorrect, it would be the ship's AI someone projecting information into us.

"Wanna have a bite to eat? Eating always calms me down," she quipped, presumably noticing every little twitch of my body with those enhanced eyes of hers. She was skinny enough that I didn't quite believe that, but if Uni meant for us to talk, we probably did have to talk, right? And so I accepted.

The "restaurants" on the station weren't exactly luxurious. Everything was built to encourage the transition from organic to robotic. Sure, we got better food, having taken our first steps, but it wasn't good food. It was just better. You'd never interact with a living person during the whole process, but rather, you punched in what you wanted on the mounted tablets, and after a few moments, food would appear from a hole in the wall on a conveyor. I had no idea if anyone even made it - robotic or organic - or if it was prepared by machines. I mean, mindless machines.

The architecture was hostile, too. I had some measure of luxury in my "inherited" quarters, but in the common areas, all seats were naked metal, kept just warm enough to not be unpleasant to sit on, but that was accomplished just as easily by their hardness. You'd not want to linger there for too long; even if the food was tastier, you were still intended to eat it quickly and then return to your tasks. Food was, after all, a pleasure for organic beings, one that those fully converted would never again experience.

So I sat down across a table from the mink, after we'd both ordered our food. Mine, a featureless metal bowl with a tomato-heavy soup in it, chunks of relatively decent meat-substitute floating next to what I think were real, sliced potatoes. Hers, I couldn't tell; it was a brick of some sort, barely looking like food at all, but rather simply _nutrients._But it had a pleasant meaty smell to it, and as it wafted into my nostrils I realized that I was actually hungry. In fact, I was famished; I'd just not had time to think about eating. And so I began to spoon that soup into my mouth. It was, as expected, decent.

My eyes, though, were focused mostly on her sharp little fangs gnawing at that nutrient-brick, little chunks of it disappearing as she went over it. She seemed to enjoy it.

"What's your name, anyway?" I asked.

"Oh? Names..." she seemed to freeze for a moment. "Jen. It's short for... it doesn't matter. Just call me Jen. We won't have names for much longer anyway, will we?"

"I'll remember mine," I shot back. There was some kind of defiance to those words, a deeper intent. Even when my consciousness had been molded into a digital cast, I'd remember. I didn't know if I would, not really, but I wanted to believe. Though really, it was less about my name and more about Kevin's. That was the name I didn't want to forget.

"If you say so. I don't think we'll need them anyway!" she replied, gnawing off another piece of her meaty dinner. "Why have names if we can instantly recognize anyone by sight, even if we've never met 'em?"

I couldn't truthfully answer that.

"I mean, you're Jen. Not just a mink," I tried.

"Sure, but I'll still not just be 'a mink' even if I'm nameless. I'll still be me, we just don't need the names. Eh, I'm not sure if this what we're supposed to talk about but it works for me. Want a bite?" she replied, holding the meat-brick towards me.

Well, why not? I leaned in to break off a piece of it with my teeth. It was crumbly and soft, almost melting in my mouth, with a very umami kind of flavor. Not unpleasant at all, and actually rather satisfying, even though I usually preferred fish. Still, I'd learned to treasure the little pleasures. A nice taste, a pleasant feeling. They were ever so important back on earth, and perhaps even more so up here, surrounded by cold metal.

"I just think there's some significance to it, I guess," I answered, licking my lips.

"We'll have to adapt if we're ever going to get to visit other planets, you know," she replied. "Any aliens we meet will probably be the same, having long since shed whatever they originally were. Only thing I worry about is, how we'll make more of us when we're all synthetic. Do we just like, generate a new consciousness? It's easy when it happens naturally, but... eh. Would the new mind even be anything like us?"

"I guess we'll all just be robots, making more robots."

"Right, but it could be worse. We could be ash down there," she gestured vaguely towards where she figured earth was - downwards - and got it entirely wrong. Earth was above us, at that moment, I was pretty sure, but I didn't feel a need to point it out.

We fell silent for a moment, eating our respective meals. And sure, we were in that inhospitable cafeteria, and I was talking to a stranger, but actually taking a quiet moment to take care of the creature comforts still felt good. It was all too easy to forget when your environment tried to make you forget.

"Well," she finally spoke, finishing her simple dinner. "I have to get back to work. I guess if you suddenly figure out what we're meant to actually chat about, just... tell Uni. I'm sure he'll tell me."

"Will do," I replied, and we both stood up. The distraction had been welcome; all I had left to do was my own research, which I hesitated to start. Scared of what I might uncover, I suppose. Or scared of not discovering anything at all. But at least I seemed to have two allies now, two people who I could feel were distinctly on my side.

"Oh, and if you'd like to fuck, too," she grinned, swaying her hips demonstratively as she walked away. "You're pretty cute." I couldn't help but look at her shapely rump, unbidden thoughts of it pressed against me forming in my mind. And then she was gone before I could actually reply.

It made sense, really. There was no reason not to; we'd have different bodies by the time any consequences of mating would catch up to us. But I thought about Kevin, and then I felt bad for thinking about her like that. Would he even mind, though?

It was neither the time nor place for juvenile fantasies, either way, and once she was gone that little bit of arousal she'd sparked in me quickly subsided, like warmth disappearing into cold metal. I made my way back to my quarters, not thinking much. It was ironic how often I felt like I was on autopilot, up here, even before I actually had that function. Maybe there wasn't as much difference between the biological and the synthetic. It was an oddly comforting thought. Maybe things wouldn't be so different.

It wasn't really my inevitable fate that I disliked, not so much the necessary shedding of my old body. It was how I was being forced into it, coerced to do it. It was something that had to be done, but I still wanted to do it for myself, not for the Company and most of all, not for Two. The door to my quarters opened automatically as I approached, detecting whatever it detected in my new implants. At least that was handy.

And upon entering that vaguely safe space, the only place in the station that was distinctly mine, I immediately stripped off the uniform I was wearing, stumbled over to my bed, and collapsed, slipping into the comfortable embrace of sleep once more. I only had one more day before I had to get back to work, but I had to rest. I felt as if I'd not slept for months. Hopefully tomorrow would be better.