Chapter 3
“If we studied well the horrors we visit upon ourselves in waking moments, it’s a wonder that we might ever willingly close our eyes to sleep.”
Miranda stepped out of the shower. Her mind was already turning, pieces within pieces, things within moments. She stared at the reflection of herself, naked, through the mirror. She liked to think that perhaps a vicious, beautiful redhead started back at her. Tall, but definitely not the willowy damsels of yore fairytale. Miranda was iron for a spine, compact muscle and the physique of a dancer who knew it.
Her form was trim and the only marr on her flesh was a juncture of scars between her breasts. A blossom of lines that could’ve been painted by an artiste. A thin scar she knew also ran just alongside the back of her ear, but that one was all but invisible. Her lips twisted through a series of expressions, and then she added the eyes, staring back through the glass. Eyebrows moved, raised, lowered, differing glances of intensity and intent, finally she settled on a demure one, slightly downtrodden but also with a spark of life.
Her irises flared in colour, burning a digital-glow blue first, before she mentally pushed them back to their preferred sea-glass green. Strands of digital hair twisted as they braided and corded themselves in a fashionable pulled back look, and her lashes separated themselves, curling upwards without the need for product.
She watched, carefully over it all, every choice a decision, every decision carried with it a weight borne of professional experience.
She had left her garment hanging on the back of the door already, a stylish wrap of silk and tight black denim jeans. But before she bound herself in the wrap, she reached for the scar and brushed its hardened ridges.
This was always accompanied by a touch of hesitation, a sort of professional pride thrilled her that this was always painful, but pain was a necessary taskmaster.
She pressed twice, sharply on either side of the blossom, and agony rippled through her. Her pride again prevented her from doubling over and grasping the marble countertop, instead she swayed unsteadily as the world exploded. An artificial heart, tied into a system of cybernetics rushed to life, supplanting her natural one. Chemical blood, digitizing instantly tore through her system, flooding pathways and activating a twisted, strange secondary series of organs.
She gasped without breath, lungs were switching over now, pushing against muscles that were ill-defined under shifting skin. A throbbing pounding beat through her ears, underscored by a keening that she knew was her own voice, even though it was almost impossible to detect.
Then it was done. A distinctive snapping, and everything switched over. It was the feeling rushing through her, everything was faster, everything was more...precise.
Miranda opened her sea-glass green and red eyes. Biotech was a painful reminder, but a necessary one. A chiba grown nano-tech heart supplanted her natural one, wafer filament lungs filled with air, and oxide chemical liquid was like nitrous through her veins. Beneath her long fingers, microfilament blades coiled and twisted like vipers.
She dressed in the wrap and denim...and walked out.
People needed killing.
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