Children of The Spheres

Chapter 31: The Line

I wake up inside the capsule, feeling... different. I expected an alien sensation, like a stranger in my own body. But it's not the overwhelm I thought it would be. Instead, there's an odd familiarity, like I've always been this way, as if the changes have seamlessly melded with who I am. The top clicks open, and I push it aside with more strength than I remember having. Keira's not here. She must've left after the surgery was done. Guess I've been out longer than I thought.

I raise my hands, looking at them. They seem the same—no drastic changes on the surface. Just faint new techlines running along the skin where the incisions were made and sealed. My body feels heavier, solid, but not clumsy. There's a newfound strength woven into every movement, a controlled force from the hypertensile fibers beneath my skin.

I push myself off the bed, my feet hitting the floor with a weight that wasn't there before. My body feels denser, sturdier. I walk over to the mirror, taking each step deliberately, testing the new enhancements in my legs.

My naked reflection stares back at me—familiar, but different in ways no one would notice but me. Jet-black hair, grown out and tousled in the same messy style. Silver eyes—my VividArrays—cold and distant as always. They're still the same color as my old organic irises. My skin is pale, almost ghostly under the harsh lights, and my frame is lean but predatory, more than before.

Cyberware doesn't change your appearance unless you want it to. All the additions, the upgrades—they're hidden beneath the surface. Still, I feel it. In my neural matrix, I sense the new systems integrating. My processor now controls them all—each part of me more efficient, more precise.

I stand there, staring at my reflection longer than I intend to. Am I still human? Have I crossed the line that divides machine from man? What does it even mean to be human anymore? Is it the body, the mind, or something deeper—something I can't quite grasp, even now? I wonder if all these changes have left anything truly mine, or if I'm just a collection of parts pretending to be something I once was.

I turn away from the mirror, undecided as I leave the lab.

***

Kassian's voice comes through before I even fully step onto the bridge. He's wired in, hardline running from the console into the jack at the base of his neck, his posture more relaxed than usual—though that's how he always looks when he's synced up with the ship.

"How are you feeling?" he asks.

I glance out the viewport at the swirling, unknowable space around us. My NeuraCore scrambles to make sense of it, fails, and then a familiar error message appears, telling me my optical sensors malfunctioned and need replacement. The tech isn't broken, though—it's just unable to comprehend what it's seeing.

"Better than I expected, to be honest," I say, taking a seat. "You're not upgrading your own augs, right?"

Kassian shakes his head. "Always had the lowest tolerance out of the lot of us. You know that."

There's a pause. I don't mind the silence. Kassian's the kind of person who doesn't waste words unless it's necessary. But then he throws something at me I wasn't expecting.

"What's going on with you and Keira?"

"What do you mean?" I ask, playing dumb. He knows?

He gives me that small, knowing smirk of his, just barely enough to register. "You've always been close, but lately... there's something else." His eyes—sharp, calculating—don't miss a thing.

I take a moment to think, weighing my words carefully. There's no point denying it—not to him, at least. "I think we're a couple now." It feels strange saying it out loud. "We didn't talk about it. Just... happened."