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AUTHOR'S NOTE:- well this is it for me. That this is one of my shorter stories is the main reason. As much as everybody writes for themselves it got ridiculous with my last story. I spent ages writing a very long story for a few hundred views and two brief comments, which is foolish on my part. Maybe more efficient to do more reviews. So I thought I'd go out with sweet and sentimental rather than horror or action adventure. TO LIVE AGAIN I died in March of 2072. As in died for real, there was a funeral and everything. I don't feel dead, but I do know that I'm a personality animating a series of extremely powerful computer programmes. My name was Brian Masters but I present to the world as Katie. I was pretty suprised when I woke up after dying, like everybody I have a memory implant but almost all attempts to upload a person from one after death fail. They try a lot because we, the rare successes, are so valuable. After serial disasters in the 40s true AIs, artificial intelligences, are illegal across the world. Simulations of humans who grew up in human society are much safer, we don't have a compulsion to follow logic beyond reason. So for important jobs we can bring the full capabilities of the computer network to bear. Why so few make the transition isn't entirely clear, maybe the experience of dying does something to the memory implant for most. I've asked other Uploads and we don't see a clear pattern, although there's a statistically significant mumber like me. I died doing my job, Search and Rescue. I drowned off the coast of Cornwall, even if I was off-duty at the time. It's astonishing how stupid people can be, a major storm and some crazy woman decides to show her son the amazing waves breaking on a pier. Kid got swept into the sea and, even if I knew better, I lashed a rope around me and went in after him. By some miracle I got him and managed to haul myself shoreward, but I was utterly exhausted when I handed the kid to his mother and a sudden surge dragged me back out. It went quick after that. I still work S&R, manage the whole of Britain in a sense. It's a good job, being "Katie" is no hassle. It's just that first responders react better to a female voice. I usually only directly interact when it's a really serious situation, so I don't get flirting and such. Happens sometimes with guys, they're in a scary situation and maybe it helps to distract them from the danger. I haven't created a female persona as such, but I go along. My virtual life is pretty good. I live in a palace, dine on the finest foods and I have a harem. It's all simulations of course, but it feels real. Uploads get a generous salary so the royalties on porn-star's simulacra is well within my means. I could go a lot faster but unless I'm working I only live at around five times normal time. I like to work, to contribute to society. Boredom isn't really a problem, I have a Wimbledon champion to teach me tennis and so forth, I can attend concerts. I have a social life with other Uploads, Patty for instance is a close friend. She's an American who manages their nuclear power stations, in between kicking my ass on the tennis court. We did have sex a time or two, she animated Belle Fleur, one of my porn- star collection and I did the same with one of her studs. But Uploads mostly don't sex each other. All sex for us is recreational, it's a drawback of our situation that we can't have meaningful sex in the same way the living can because there are no possible consequences. It all seems very real, I am created to react as my human self would. The first responders I still feel part of, I experience fear, excitement or satisfaction at a good outcome. I know that I am not Brian Masters, he died for real. If I go by Katie that's just to remind myself that I'm not a living human, I still identify as a man. Another of my friends is Peeler who was based on a guy called Gurjag Singh, he was a cop who got shot dead in 2065 during a hostage rescue. He's the Upload for the British Police, since we would often work together he was my mentor when I first became an Upload. It'd be pretty dystopian if Peeler could solve every crime, but he can't. I mean, he can do a lot, like search public CCTV intelligently and real fast. But it still takes flesh and blood police to prevent or solve crime. Unless it's something truly appalling like a serial killer they're discouraged from leaning too heavily on Peeler anyway, they need to develop skills. What Peeler faces are a lot more ethical dilemmas than I do, I'm pretty flattered that I'm one of the friends he talks them out with. There were seven of us visting his palace when he laid out his latest. Gurjag's is much more modest than mine and he predicted I'd go that way soon. Mine is kind of Versaille on steroids and he said after a while you couldn't be bothered with the size, his central residence was still large, but he put more effort into his gardens which were pretty spectacular. It was in a pavilion straddling a stream that tinkled merrily below us that we met to talk. His problem was that he'd identified a dealer in Blast but the information wasn't obtained legally. Blast is the streetname for a drug used in psychotherapy and in my opinion you needed psychotherapy to even contemplate using it outside a hospital. In some ways Blast can create in the user some of the experience of being Uploaded. Reality becomes a matter of choice, as in if you don some VR contacts and a pair of earbuds you act out the scenario as if it were real. People use it for sex, as in a woman loads porn and acts like it's real, comes over and over. A guy really thinks he's got a ten-inch dick and can screw non-stop for an hour. Or extreme sports, cliff diving and the like. You retain the memory of it too, the whole point of a memory implant is to give the user an eidetic memory. Which all sounds great and all, there's even people argue Blast should be legal. But it's horribly dangerous even if it's not actually addictive in the normal sense. You remember an unreal experience as an event that actually happened. That can have bad effects on your sanity, Blast users are prone to psychotic breaks. But it can mess you up in other ways. Like you're a normal woman or man, porn-sex isn't normal sex. Like I don't think all it takes is me dropping my trousers for a woman to get hyper-horned, nor is it likely they come a dozen times. It's not to my taste anyway but I don't think most women like being hard face-fucked while they make gagging noises. But more than one woman has ended up a clinical nymphomaniac from too much Blast, and more than one guy either charged or narrowly avoiding a charge of sexual assault. Getting a taste for extreme sports if you're not fit and trained is dangerous too. There are dangers in even mainstream VR when on Blast. Like the experience of being the action hero can give you a hero- complex, get you punched-out or arrested for vigilante shit. Or with tastes you simply can't afford. If I sound hypocritical because I live in a palace catered to a Michelin standard and with porn-stars on tap bear in mind that I'm dead. My lifestyle is just a bunch of trained electrons dancing, all it costs is a few royalty payments. But the worst danger with Blast is dosage, get it wrong and the side- effects can be severe. In hospitals they use computer-controlled micro- infusers under the control, in the UK, of Minerva who's an Upload that does the extreme medical cases. If it weren't the case that therapy with Coperamanol, Blast's correct name, is so effective it would be too dangerous to use. That it takes an Upload operating at 1000 times normal to be safe you'd think would give even the densest the idea that Blast isn't a good idea. Blast works on memory, a trained therapist can identify those who have memories, traumas mostly, they simply cannot live a normal life with. An example might be a rape victim, with a memory implant when triggered they relive the experience in excruciating detail. Before coperamanol therapy often the only treatment was to remove the implant, in a world where everybody has an eidetic memory it could be hard not to feel brain-damaged. Therapy can be used to create new memories, or establish a memory of a history of coping with the trauma. Since it operates through the patient's own mind the implant will accept overwrites which are almost impossible to do by remote accessing the implant. For obvious reasons the implants are hard-wired to only accept input from their owner. Too high a dose and you can scramble the implant and you have to spend months in guided therapy to get it functioning again. A bad enough OD and you don't just scramble the implant, you scramble the organic brain too. That's rare but it happens, and you end up in a coma. Victims pretty much all die in a few weeks, it's speculated that the experience is so horrifying that they "turn themselves off" is the translation of the technical terms. Higher brain function ceases, so most next of kin pull the plug. Minerva was one of the Uploads Peeler asked to consult with. Some cop had screwed-up, he'd applied for a legitimate search warrant on a suspected bank-robber's devices. Devices are sold with unbreakable encryption but it's key-escrow, a warrant and you can get in. Bad guys though will add their own encryption, but Peeler at full speed and using certain highly classified programmes can break pretty much anything that isn't the stuff only governments have. But people take their privacy seriously, the laws on that are very strict. The consequences when the AIs didn't give a shit about such things were so severe that voters learnt well how dangerous modern surveillance capacities were. So, for instance, Peeler wouldn't just hand over everything on the suspect's devices. Strictly limited to criminal evidence, like if he had a bunch of gay porn but claimed to be straight with his associates that wasn't any of the police's business, they didn't get to pressure him if there wasn't direct evidence by threatening to out him. The problem was that a cop transposed two numbers when he applied for search warrants on two suspects. He got the one for the bank robber but was turned down on the suspected Blast-dealer. So when Peeler got into the Blast dealer's business he found ample evidence, but on an illegal search warrant. We went to full speed to talk because there was a major problem. Minerva, who treats Blast victims was in disbelief. "Seriously? Not only can't you give the cops the evidence, you have to inform the bastard that he's been illegally searched? So not only does he get away with it he knows the cops suspect him and never to use electronic devices again?" Peeler nodded. "It gets worse, he's enititled to compensation. The tax-payer will be funding his next buy from whoever is cooking up the stuff for him." We'd gone to full-speed, around 100,000 times normal. We could spend a year on it and it would only be a few minutes in normal time. What Peeler wanted was for us to figure out a way to either legally inform the cops or put the dealer away in some other way. Easiest would be for him to tell us and one of us leak it, but that wasn't an option. Peeler got his job because of his profound respect for the law, he'd been a by-the-book cop when alive. We only gave it two days, there really was no way round it. If he'd been surveilling the bank robber and the guy scored some Blast from the dealer he could have reported that. But his evidence was inarguably obtained illegally, he couldn't even tell the police that they were correct in their suspicion that Carstairs dealt Blast. But Electra, who used to be Elaine Myers and is Patty's British equivalent, thought we worried too much. The cops suspicious of Carstairs were competent, one way or another they'd bust him. I didn't give much thought to the matter myself, too busy liasing with Chantelle, my French equivalent. It should not have been possible, but in an odd co-incidence Blast was involved. The captain of a tramp- steamer out of Greece was a user and, to use the vernacular, went bat- shit crazy. Became convinced he was the hero of his favourite sci-fi VR. At the climax that hero disabled the safeties on his ship and rammed the Dark Lord's battle-cruiser before it could incinerate a planet housing the Resistance. The Channel is the world's busiest waterway and heavily policed, so when the ship's transponder went dark the French Navy reacted fast and had a chopper over the steamer in short order but they assumed some sort of catastrophic system failure. So when their radar track showed the Nikolais on a collision course with the Marie-Claire, a French passenger ferry, Chantelle ordered the Marie- Claire to alter course. She figured out fast that the steamer altering course to still line-up the Marie-Claire was bad news. Unfortunately Uploads can't order fatal force used, a missile from the helo to the steamer's rudder would have avoided a catastrophe. But by the time she could get a human in the loop to order firing on a civilian vessel it was too late. The Marie-Claire was a well-designed ship and the crew were superb. But it wasn't designed to resist being rammed by 30,000 tons of steel. Both me and Chantelle went to full speed but it was a kind of torture, the helicopters we were vectoring in seemed to crawl toward the Marie- Claire. Despite her automatic systems sealing the breach she was sinking fast. We helevaced less than we'd like, but that crew stuck to their duty, got a lot into lifeboats. It sucked, the weather was bad. The Marie-Claire went down fast and the British Navy took the sunken ship, it was possible there were survivors in sealed compartments and a sub with divers and ROVs took that under my direction. We had ships and helos tracking the lifeboats. It sounds a bit sick I know, but both me and Chantelle enjoyed it. It really stretched us, everything from satellite surveillance to radar drones and we saved a lot of lives. We lost 67 lives, without us simulations suggested it would have been between 360-375. That is the purpose of Uploads, to serve humanity, the living. So I was feeling pretty good until Peeler laid the Carstairs case on us. It was horrible, really horrible. It was a pimp who bought the Blast from Carstairs and he was a particularly nasty specimen of the breed. He had a teacher who singled out vulnerable girls for him and Polly Winters fitted the bill. She was only 15 and pretty, very long dark hair and an oval face with warm brown eyes. Her parents had just moved to Chester from Manchester and Polly, on the shy side, was struggling to fit into a new school. So when one of the pimp's string befriended her Polly fell for it, went to a "party" with her. It was a set-up, first they got her drunk with spiked wine to get her defences down. Steamer, the pimp, had a technique that used Blast and it was pretty sick. First up he auctioned off a girl's virginity to favoured customers, the girl was given Blast and a "schoolgirl" porn VR to act out with the sicko who'd bought her first time. Then he'd switch it out with a gang-bang scenario, he'd film the girl doing outrageous stuff with a bunch of masked men. Steamer's girls got the option of working for him and seeing "gentlemen" singly and getting excellent drugs he'd supply for them, or everyone they knew, the entire school and the Web getting a copy of her performance. Polly must have had a real strong sense of self, because she started to come out of it while the first customer was still undressing her. So Steamer gave her a second dose of Blast. Which didn't work the way he'd thought, instead of chanelling a pornstar Polly just started screaming and went doubly incontinent. The waiting perverts panicked and ran, in the confusion Steamer didn't keep a close enough eye on the girl who'd played Judas Goat. She dialed 999 for an ambulance, 16yrs old or not that attack of conscience saved her from serious jail-time. Steamer got life without parole and a bunch of his customers went down for either straight-up rape or statutory rape. Carstairs rolled on his supplier and a raid on that guy netted a bunch of dealers. But that it was a big win for law enforcement didn't help Polly. The overdose of Blast had shattered her mind and the bad news was that she didn't have a memory implant. She was a natural eidetic and had put off the surgery until she was older. If it sounds vain I don't mean it as insult, she loved her hair and didn't want to lose it for an operation that she really didn't need until she was a lot older. Minerva took it real hard, went to full speed and spent a whole hour on it. Which is several years experientially. Then she summoned the seven of us who'd considered the Carstairs matter to a full-speed meeting. We met for dinner aboard an orbiting space station, the view of Earth was marvellous. Minerva had calmed down but she was firm. "We are responsible for what happened to Polly Winters, we had information that could have prevented it but we did nothing." Samson, who runs air traffic control for Britain and Ireland, shook his head. "There was nothing we could do Minerva, we're not AIs so the law is the law. We're not above it." "We didn't spend enough time thinking about it. As Uploads no we couldn't have done anything, but Uploads are also citizens and we forgot that. We could have hired a private detective to watch Carstairs and hand over anything he found to the police." Shit, we really could have done that. I guess we try so hard to not act like gods that we forget that in some ways we live like gods. Like I like Degas, my palace has perfect replicas of every work he ever did. There's no whim or taste we can't indulge. But in interacting with the living we stay strictly in our lane, work only. Like I had a sister before I died and I loved her very much. But Brian Masters is dead, I'm only a simulation of him and it wouldn't help flesh and blood Katie deal with her loss to talk to me. I named my persona in her honour but she doesn't even know that I became an Upload. But legally we are citizens and we get paid, we spend so little that we could easily have afforded Minerva's idea. We didn't have to say anything, Minerva nodded firmly at our clearly transparent faces. "So I've come up with an idea of how we might help Polly, it may or may not work. My projections indicate most likely a partial success. We seven failed her so one of us, assuming her parents go for it, will have to try it. Are we all in?" We all agreed. It was a strange idea but if Minerva thought it might work it was worth trying. I, literally, drew the short straw. .............................................................. Polly's parents looked pretty dreadful and it wasn't hard to see they hadn't slept much. Polly's mother, Liz Winters, was very much an older version of her daughter same oval face and eyes. Polly had a 12yr old sister, Dawn, and she took for her father John more than Polly did. Her hair a lighter shade, and she had her father's cheekbones. Dawn was staying with grandparents but I met John and Liz at the hospital along with Minerva. John frowned. "I'm not sure how your suggestion helps, it won't bring Polly back to us will it?" Minerva was on one screen in the room the hospital gave us, I on another. She presented as she'd been before she died. She was a doctor so she wore a white coat, hair in a bun. Not hiding that she was an attractive woman of 32 but at work. Although I hadn't hidden that I was essentially male I wore my Katie face. A fairly pretty ginger with freckles, girl next door or sister was the look I went for. Minerva sighed slightly. "There are two extremes Mr Winters. One is that it doesn't work at all. As I'm sure you've been made aware, in that event the outcome for Polly is not good. I do a lot of Blast cases sir, one like Polly's I've never seen recover. But her memories have not been wiped, she's just unable to organise them. The idea is that we download a copy of Katie into a memory implant and install it in Polly. With luck he can, as it were, "pilot" Polly's body. He'll attempt to organise those memories. Total success would be Polly's real personality would be restored, at which point we remove Katie. You would have Polly back." I spoke up. "I'd need a lot of help, for a start I've never been a girl." Liz gave a laugh that had an edge of hysteria to it. "If she did wake up she'd kill us for shaving her hair." "Actually Mrs Winters that hasn't been necessary for several years." Minerva was right about that, Polly had been paranoid at 14 which is when most get an implant. "Why a male Upload?" "It is possible the experience will be a nightmare and we would experience death all over again. Several of us volunteered to try and the fairest way was to pick at random." John sighed. "Don't think we're not grateful. What are the odds we get Polly back?" "Bear in mind this has never been done before so I am giving you an educated guess. My intuition is that if it works at all the odds of complete success are low. I believe the most likely outcome is a partial success, a fusion personality between Polly and Katie. So you would have part of Polly back and a daughter." "If it helps you will control as much as possible, I won't try and imitate Polly. For instance what I would call you would be up to you. If I do or say something that is as they say, so "Polly", it will be because it's her memory not mine." In the end they went for it and I suppose there are millions of parents who've done the same, thrown the desperate Hail Mary pass for a much- loved child. It was odd talking to the other Uploads about it, there'd be two Katies. Upload me and Download me. But perhaps better to think of myself as Polly. If it worked at all I'd likely be trying to live as Polly, and if Polly did emerge I'd have to try and avoid identity conflict. Minerva did the surgery but I didn't watch, nor would I observe Polly unless invited. Download me was entitled to privacy and I was going to be a teenage girl. Polly might well be creeped out having a 36yr old male keep butting into her life. Minerva would keep me informed in general terms but I intended to let Download me live her own life. ........................................................... I woke up but kept my eyes closed for a moment to think. I was alive again, which meant I'd have to relearn so much. Like walking to the fridge to get a drink instead of wishing it into my hand, things like that. Only one time too. Uploads always have the time to think things through, to address any task thoroughly. I'd been an Upload five years but I'd "experienced" around 100 years. I don't remember much of it though, as an Upload you edit out the memories of tedious days working out the optimum approach to a problem. But now I was human, I could feel it. I hadn't really expected it to work, certainly not this well. Other than a slight headache I wasn't in any pain and I wasn't being sucked into some maelstrom of random memories from Polly's life. I opened my eyes and as expected saw John and Liz, at least they were asleep in chairs either side of me. As agreed I held up two fingers on my right hand to alert Minerva. Two on the right said it was me and that I wasn't in any pain. Maybe it was motherly telepathy or just super-acute hearing but Liz woke and met my eyes. "Polly?" "No. Or not yet, I'm Katie ma'am." "How long have you been awake and how do you feel?" "Just a few seconds and I feel fine." "Me and John talked, if you're OK with it we hope that acting like Polly might help bring her back. Like calling me and John Mum and Dad." "Sure, mind if I bring Minerva in?" She agreed and shortly after I was being poked and prodded by a human doctor and running through question/response with Minerva. I got something for the headache and it promptly vanished. I got to stand up with Mum and Dad holding me on each side and walked around a bit. I didn't need the help, physically I was fine. "I'd like to check in with Polly twice daily and I'd like her to wear a medi-cuff for a week, but I see no reason to keep her in hospital. Are you willing to take her home?" Dad nodded. "Thank you Minerva," he smiled at me, "I've got a good feeling about this." Mum smiled too. "Just hearing your voice, seeing you without all those tubes in you, it's a treat." They wheeled me out of the hospital but I got to walk to the car. If the Winters weren't rich, Dad was an accountant and Mum a midwife, they were solidly prosperous. The car was a new-model Audi, from my Upload days I was a fan. The safety systems on the latest model are outstanding, in one of the ads they put the fuel-cell on a bonfire and it burnt out with the fuel-cell still intact. We talked a little on the way home, and it was an odd experience. The Winters weren't controlling or domineering, but I was a 15yr old girl now. At my new age I got a say but my parents made the final decisions. Like they were happy to give me time but I was going back to school. I had a curfew but I wasn't going to jib at that, I'd had a graphic demonstration that there are predators who regarded girls like me as juicy prey. We lived in a nice house in a suburb of Chester, the garden needed work but the house was in excellent condition. I realised something odd when I got to my bedroom, I hadn't looked at myself. I sat before the dresser and looked at my reflection. For the first time I saw myself as a girl. I was in hospital scrubs which weren't flattering but I really was pretty. Who knew? Maybe when I grew up I'd be beautiful. I needed to pee and it wasn't a great experience, I'd been catheterised while in my coma and it stung when I peed. According to my tests I hadn't got an infection and be OK in short order. I'd researched the basics of female body maintenance, so other than it being an odd sensation it wasn't alarming. I debated looking over my body but it still felt a little creepy. In life I'd been married at 23 and divorced three years later, just your average vanilla heterosexual. I'd creeped plenty on 15yr old girls, but that was when I was in school. I moved on as I grew up. So I got glimpses but didn't really do more than glance down at my boobs as I pulled on a bra. I liked Polly's taste in clothes although if she was in fashion I didn't know. She had a few pretties in her lingerie drawers but mostly it looked either functional or pretty in an innocent sort of way, fruit and flowers were a theme. But I put on a simple white bra and panties with a white t-shirt and a pink sweater. The jeans had me giggling. They weren't skin-tight but a good fit and I kind of struggled to get them over my butt. It was a male thing, you're always careful with the last bit and zipping-up. When you get to puberty you get a great new toy to play with, but the downsides of crushing your balls or catching your bestest pal in a zipper are severe. Girls get to haul away merrily to clear the hips and zip-up without a second thought. So if I no longer had a bestest pal there were upsides to take into consideration. I messed up my hair getting dressed and learned I hadn't got it right. I'd have described her as having "long" hair, but it was pretty daunting when I started to take a brush to it. I'm not a total stranger to the female mysteries and if I kept the hair it was going to require a great deal of maintenance. It was thick and very glossy, I was guessing Mum had cared for it while Polly was in a coma. It wasn't just long, she kept it straight and when I stood it reached past my butt. I took a breath and went to join Mum in the kitchen where she was rustling up lunch. "Fancy anything in particular?" she asked. "I suppose pasta is out of the question?" She about jumped out of her skin. "Polly would have had pasta for breakfast if I let her." I spread my hands. "Could be something, could be nothing. I'm not aware yet of any of her memories but Minerva thinks it's likely to be slow. There might be muscle memories too, I've never had hair like this but I brushed it out no problem." Lunch was soup followed by cheese rolls. Dad joined us and looked a bit awkward as he asked. "I won't pester but I feel I ought to ask. Are you OK? I mean they say Uploads live like billionaires, can have anything they want. Do you miss it?" "No. In your terms I took a year to think it through. It's not so bad being an Upload but it's not Paradise, kind of weighs on you that you're dead. We take solace in our work, it gives us purpose. So I committed to this, all the way. Ideally we get Polly back and I leave." "Go back as an Upload?" "Maybe, maybe not. Nobody really knows why Uploads nearly always fail, I might or might not make it." He looked appalled. "You'd die?" "I died years ago, it's Polly who deserves her shot at life. Look, as Katie I did Search and Rescue but that was what I did in life. I was the guy they lowered from a chopper or who jumped out in scuba gear. I died pulling a kid out of the sea. I don't regret it, it was a dangerous job sometimes and I accepted that. But the job this time is to pull Polly out of the sea. If Minerva is right and we kind of fuse I'll try to be as good a daughter as I can. She deserved a shot at life, I'll do my best to give her that." Mum teared up a bit at that and I changed the subject. We talked about school, I had an interview with the Head in two days. But Dad's Link buzzed at him and he read the message and smiled. "Everybody brace yourselves, hurricane inbound." "Huh?" "Your sister is about to get here." "She knows it all I hope?" "Yes. You two would squabble sometimes, but you weren't really alike enough to really fall out and, well, you did love each other." I stood up and prepared to be introduced and have an awkward conversation. The back door flew open and a small figure flew at me and wrapped me in a hug. "HiI'mDawnandyou'rebringingPollybackandI'llhelp." I saw what Dad meant, Polly had been described as shy and a little quiet, Dawn was anything but either. She did everything, including talking, at a mile a minute. She waved off lunch, saying Grandma had fed her already. But she kind of bounced and quivered in her seat as she talked, Dawn was high-energy alright. "See, I figure Mum and Dad know Polly one way, I know her another. Want a coke? Actually Mum I've got room for a cheese roll. Fancy a game of tennis Polly? Maybe a walk? Did you like being an Upload?" I looked at Mum. "Crikey, it's like being interrogated by Tigger." That bought me a sudden silence and a stare from all three. "What?" I asked, Mum answered. "Sometimes Polly would call Dawn Tigger, as in "calm down Tigger"." "Oh." Could be something but maybe not. My favourite as a kid was the classic 20thCen version but I quite liked the 3D version too. Most kids knew Pooh and the comparison was an obvious one. I sighed. "I don't think it's a good idea to kind of make a big deal every time I say something." Dawn got it and, in what I was to learn was uncommon occurence, spoke at normal pace. "Too much pressure?" "Exactly, I don't want to find myself watching every word." They all nodded but I don't think they meant it. I don't mean they were lying, more like underestimated the strain they were under. I really can't imagine what it was like for them to have what was clearly a much- loved daughter be suddenly in an ICU, looking perfectly fine but doctors telling you she was certain to die. Then have Minerva lay her idea out and see that daughter get up and walk but know there was a stranger inside. They were nice to "me" but they didn't want me, they wanted Polly back. "If you don't mind I'm going to take a bath, I feel a bit grimy. Only," I kind of fluffed my hair, "I have no idea what to do with all this." That brought laughs all round, apparently Polly and her hair regime was a standing joke in my new family. When I later explored her room I was pretty staggered at the sheer amount of hair-related products she had, not to mention hair-bands, clips, bows and about everything else you needed to decorate or restrain hair with. Dawn shrugged. "Just pile it in a bathing-cap, I'll wash it for you tonight," she rolled her eyes, "Polly was teaching me what to do with mine, not that I'm ever going to go crazy like her. But I'll clue you in." "Thanks." I had hair-envy, Dawn's was nice but stopped short of her shoulders, I'd guess she spent about a fifth of the time on it that Polly did. As my bath was running I decided it was time to look myself over. It was a lot less disturbing than I'd expected. So I had breasts and they jiggled when I moved, I wouldn't call Polly busty but I'd guess a bit above average for her age and height. But whether it was muscle memory or Polly coming through, they felt right. As in they belonged where they were, they were part of me. In some ways my butt was more disturbing. It was a nice butt, Polly biked and played a lot of tennis so she was a fit girl to go with her youth. But I was pretty conscious of my butt and hips, I walked different and I could feel it when I did. Same whenever I sat down, there was a bit of a padded feel and I had no junk to arrange. Speaking of which I now had a vagina. But without I went all contortionist or got out a hand-mirror there wasn't much to see. It looked like Polly's vanity didn't extend to her pubes, neatly trimmed but nothing elaborate. But sliding into the bath and closing my eyes for a moment was a revelation. It felt *terrific*. A combination I think. If my new family were tense, under a strain, so was I. Letting the tension dissolve into the water was bliss. But there was also a really sensual high to it. I don't know whether it was her youth or being a girl but Polly's skin was definitely more sensitive than mine was, the feel of the just-right hot-water was a delight. I opened my eyes at that thought. I'd set the temperature on the bath without thinking and I'd obviously got it spot-on, was that Polly? I tried calling to her in my head but no reply. I idly lifted my hand to watch water drip off it, wondered at why I suddenly felt so great. The answer wasn't hard to work out. I was alive again. I mean, fair was fair, if Polly showed up I'd bow out. Maybe our simulations aren't as good as we think, but I sure felt like being alive felt better than being an Upload. Besides, there's a certain hollowness to Upload life. Sure, you can have anything you want with a snap of your fingers but there's no sense of achievement to it. No saving-up for a treat, I had a harem of eager girls but it was kind of top-tier masturbation. No possibilty of children, or love. In a way that was one of the things that makes Uploads safe when AIs aren't. Our work gave us purpose, a reason to exist. A couple of us had gone rogue, but in a harmless way. They went full-speed and sealed themselves off to live out whole-life simulations where they were unaware it was a simulation. Between lives they emerged in full to savour their experience and decide the next scenario. They tested it out before isolating themselves but it never appealed to me, it's a parody of life. My plan as Katie if I ever got tired of Upload life was to delete myself. I patted myself dry after a long soak. I felt restless, wanted something although I didn't know what. I did some rooting around in my room and discovered what it was I wanted when I found a bike helmet and pads. I wanted to move, to see the real world I was now living in. I had a strange moment as I got ready, I braided the bottom foot of my hair. I had a jacket and I'd sown a loop inside to fix the braid into. I hoped Mum and Dad wouldn't notice, I couldn't see any explanation other than a Polly memory. Mum looked a bit sceptical but Dawn announced she'd come with me to "keep her out of trouble". Great, I had a 12yr old bodyguard. Like most bikes ours had an auxilary electric motor and Dawn insisted on using fully charged batteries. Her point being I'd just got out of hospital. But I felt great, the wind in my face and using real muscles to move me in a real world. We didn't go anywhere in particular and I let Dawn lead eventually we stopped in a park and took five on a bench. Dawn gave me a look. "Can I be a pest?" "Sure." "Did you, like, want to be a girl? When you were alive I mean?" I shook my head. "No. Maybe you think it's wierd I volunteered for this but it's hard to explain. Being an Upload is very strange, we exist to serve the real world but live in an unreal one. Helping people, real people, is what gives our lives meaning. So Minerva had this idea that might help Polly so we didn't hesitate. I mean I know to you the boy/girl thing probably sounds huge, but to me the big thing is being alive. Don't worry, if we can get the real Polly back I'll step aside. But I'm pretty sure my Upload self is the one that should envy me." I was to learn that Dawn often mouthing the first thing that came to mind didn't mean my sister wasn't smart. She nodded. "How can I help?" "We're making this up as we go along, you know? I studied on Polly some but you can't know somebody that way like, you, Mum, Dad, did. So tell me Dawn, what was Polly...no, what am *I* like?" She blushed slightly. "I never said it to you, not seriously, 'cos it's kind of dorky. You're the best sister in the world, kind of my hero." I laughed. "You know, when I was alive I had a sister too and I never told her that either." I flashed her a grin. "So tell me why I'm so wonderful." "You always made time for me, hardly ever got mad at me 'cos I know I can be annoying. You were always calm and wouldn't let me do things when I was being stupid. Like not long before the...thing happened I got freaked that any day now I'm going to get periods, you levelled me out." "Well we have that in common, I'm going to be having my first any day now." That was a conversation I'd thought I'd have to have with Mum. I'd talked female stuff with Minerva and there was nothing in Polly's medical records to indicate any problems, but how women feel about periods is between them and their bodies and I wanted to prepare myself. But looks like Polly coached Dawn, it'd be less of a strain I suspected to pump Dawn for information. But it could wait. "What sort of stuff did you two do together?" "Rode to school and back together. Played tennis, we're a pretty good doubles team. Sometimes we'd team-up to drive Dad nuts, like that. Shopped a bit, talked boys, well, until we moved here we did." "I heard that wasn't going so good." She looked suddenly sad. "I feel bad about that. I like it here, made lots of new friends, Polly not so much. Except that whore Kendra." "Dawn you're too young to use language like that." "I don't. But that...person is an exception. You weren't that stressed about it, said you always made friends slowly. Mum was more worried about it than you." I settled in pretty well overall. There were a few glitches. Like we were watching a movie about a rescue in space and I got real sarcastic what with having run real ones. I suppose any Dad might widen his eyes a bit at a 15yr old getting vivid about vacuum exposure and that mini- shuttle would have run out of fuel an hour ago. My first reaction to Polly's school had been hostile. It had a paedophile teacher hunting for a pimp and they'd left an obviously vulnerable transfer student to twist in the wind. But to be fair the school had got a new Head a few weeks before Polly got targeted, he hadn't had time to turn things round. Mr Reid was quite a short man, but had a very solid air to him. It was at core a good school, but the previous Head wasn't up the job and she'd let things slide, that wasn't Mr Reid. Under the circumstances he had to know the full truth about me, although he was the only person at the school other than Dawn who did. He steepled his fingers at me after serving us all coffee. "Well Miss Winters, I suppose we had best start with academics. You were an excellent student, particularly excelling in History, English and French. Where does your present self stand?" "My Upload self was able to spend plenty of time getting me up to speed sir. Whether I'll have her talents I don't know but my French is probably a bit better, actually I'm fluent." He glanced at Mum and Dad. "Which leaves the rather unpleasant matter of your ordeal." His lips tightened. "Despite that the Press are not allowed to use your name I'm afraid we have to be realistic. Mr Savage has been arrested and remanded thank God, and the other victims transferred out. May I ask why you haven't availed yourself of the same Mr and Mrs Winters?" Dad answered. "This is an attempt to restore as much of Polly as possible. Familiar surroundings are part of that, nothing bad actually happened to her at the school. Dawn's settled here and likes it." "Hmmm. There are many reasons I chose a career in education, but among them is that I like kids. But I'm not blind to how they can be sometimes. The story is, I'm afraid, out there. Pupils are people like any other, they gossip and a paedophile teacher and some former classmates being involved in a prostitution ring is too lurid to resist. That an attempt to rape Polly using Blast they also know. What speculations and wild stories they create from that is impossible to predict. Most will be kind and sympathetic but I can't rule out cruel." "Polly is shy and quiet, she's not weak." "I'm not saying she is but under the circumstances with your permission I'd like to provide extra protection. I won't reveal the Upload facet but I'd like to brief somebody on the general story. You can meet her if you like." Mum and Dad shared a look, then gave me one, I shrugged. "I can see why there'd be all sorts of rumours, couldn't hurt at this point to have the truth out there." So we gave permission and the Golden Girl came in. That was my immediate impression of the Sixth-Former who came in, she kind of dazzled. My school was a little more formal than a lot in the UK but not unusual. Up to Fifth form uniform was mandatory but at Lower and Upper Sixth you got to wear what you liked within limits. Mr Reid had clamped down pretty hard, on both students and staff. Schools are hot-beds of gossip and it got out pretty quick that he'd read the staff the riot act when he arrived. Like it was acceptable for a teacher to use first names as an interaction progressed but they were always to initially address students as Mr or Miss first and wear "appropriate" clothing, stuff like that. Sixth Formers could wear what they liked provided it was "neat and clean", which was down to his arbitary opinion. In some things he was pretty liberal, fans of Stark music were suprised he didn't give a damn about the face-paint, the gloves or the holo-shoes. Word soon got round, style was fine but slob or slut was out. I knew who Pamela Forbes was of course, we had weekly Assembly and she sat on stage during it since she was the school's Head Girl. Georgians are a pretty small faction but she rocked the look, could have stepped onto the set of a Jane Austen re-make no problem. Blonde hair in an elaborate do with ringlets, chemise dress that reached her ankles and bared arms but no visible cleavage in white with a pink ribbon beneath the bust. Georgian costs to do right and Pamela's parents were pretty wealthy. She sang solo in the school choir and kind of wafted round the school in a graceful walk trailing expensive scents behind her. I'd never interacted with her much as Polly but I was possibly getting some memories from my host now, because I felt a sort of caution seeping through. Polly had been quiet not naive, maybe taken one look at Pamela and thought "Queen Bee" as in don't cross that one. I'd lay good odds most of even the male Starkers had dreams about her despite Starker disdain for Edwardian "fops". The pupils elected the Head Girl from a short-list Mr Reid had a veto on, small faction or not Pamela had romped home despite being Lower Sixth. "Miss Forbes, please meet the Winters family. Mr and Mrs Winters and their daughter Polly." We shook hands all around and I sighed internally, dazzling smile with perfect teeth, some people get it all. We all seated ourselves and Mr Reid addressed Pamela. "Pamela, I'd like you to be frank, you won't offend anybody, what do you know about Polly and what are the pupils saying about her?" She looked at me. "No offence, OK? But until the "thing" I really didn't know much about you, your sister the rebel made a bit more impact." Mum coughed. "What's this about Dawn?" Pamela laughed. "Nothing bad Mrs Winters, it's just she made a bit of an impression. Like told Miss Henderson, the football coach she was a striker and was heard doing some muttering when she was given left-back for the Second XI in a practise-match against the First, promptly scored a hat-trick. She, um, has a low tolerance for being pushed around shall we say? Not shy about expressing opinions in class." "That's Dawn." I said, feeling a surge of pride that just had to be "Polly". "Yes, well turning back to Polly. Of course there were a lot of rumours and some hindsight going on. I asked around and the general story seems to be that Polly and Kendra becoming friends was just two oddballs making friends. There were rumours Kendra did drugs but nothing solid. The core story seems to be that Kendra took Polly to a druggy party and she OD'd on Blast. Nobody knew Kendra was a...um, hooker. Some girls found Mr Savage creepy, but nobody knew anything serious. That's about all anybody *knows* but there's all sorts of stories, some of them not nice." "Like?" I asked. "Look, nobody with a brain believes them OK? But like you and Kendra were, you know, lovers. That your parents moved here because you were a druggy in London. That you freaked out in the middle of an orgy and stabbed a bunch of people, like that." Mum didn't take that well. "None of that is true!" Mr Reid made a calming gesture. "I know Mrs Winters, I believe Pamela can help. Why don't you tell Polly here who you are Pamela?" "I guess I'm a reformed character. I used to be a bully, nasty tongue I had, and a gossip. Understand, I didn't think I was, I just thought I was teasing and having fun with people. Anyway, my older brother was Head Boy at this school and one day he took me aside and told me exactly who I was and that half the Third Form were terrified of me, including my friends. So I decided to be a better person." She gestured to herself. "I mean, I'm not saying I'm not vain and don't have fun with that just not at somebody else's expense." Mr Reid nodded. "So you might say when it comes to bullying and gossip Miss Forbes has expertise. So if you can bring yourself to tell her the truth I think she can help in a way that teachers maybe can't." Made sense to me, so I laid it out. "I lost all my friends when we moved here and I'm a bit shy," I saw Dad wince at that but if I'd never had kids I got it. He got a promotion and we could afford a better lifestyle in Chester, I didn't think my parents made a bad call. "But I was OK with it, it's not like anybody was picking on me or I was an outcast. But Mr Savage started pairing me up with Kendra in Computing and she seemed nice. Anyway she took me to a party, I should have worried because there were some older men there but Kendra said they were just "pre-partying" in her place before going out and friends from school would be along soon. I got a bit woozy and next thing I knew I was in a VR and...getting handsy with a teacher I had a crush on. Maybe because I've never had a crush on a teacher or I'd never wear a bunch of slut clothes I don't know, but it wasn't right and I took his hands off and tried to run. Next thing I knew I'd crashed out of VR and some guys were holding me down while another was jabbing me with a needle. It was a second dose of Blast and I don't remember what happened next." I shrugged. "I woke up in hospital. According to the police I started screaming and having convulsions. I didn't stab anybody. Kendra called an ambulance and said it was Blast so a bunch of cops turned up as well as paramedics." "But you're OK now?" "Not exactly. My brain got fried. They're doing a new therapy on me and it's sort of working, but I have a lot of amnesia. My doctor thinks my coming back to school might help with that." Pamela took a sip of her coffee and looked thoughtful. "Are you willing to have that story told?" "Sure, but people are still going to talk." "Of course they are but I think we can make sure only the "Pamelas", the nasty girls, do the talking and I've got my eye on them. Can I make a suggestion Mr Reid?" "I didn't bring you in here not to listen Miss Forbes, go ahead." "I'm sure you planned on having teachers do it, but what if I give a little talk to each of Polly's classes before she comes back? Explain what really happened, scotch a few rumours and...Polly's like a girl been in a crash and in a wheelchair but going to recover, let's all help her out with the memory thing." "I'm not sure I want a lot of attention." "Noted. Low-key, just things like don't be offended if she doesn't remember your name, like that." Mum nodded. "That sounds good to me. The kind will step forward but what about the mean?" "She has me Mrs Winters. I don't intend to hover and I don't have an office but so to speak my door will aways be open to her. Excuse the language but I confess to still having an inner bitch, using it to slap down the odd bully is OK isn't it?" My Mum got an odd look, then smiled. "One of the obstetricians I work for says the same, she's a very fine doctor so I see your point." Pamela held out her hand to me. "Deal?" I shook. "Deal." Mr Reid coughed. "The same applies to me Miss Winters, this school let you down once Polly, I don't intend that to happen again." As Dad later explained it, that was pretty bold of him. He'd probably been warned not to say anything that could be construed as an admission of liability. But my parents didn't want to get us all entangled in a lawsuit, not least because a tidy sum was coming my way. Steamer got LWP and under the circumstances three Uploads went through his assets for seizure and got a shock. Most pimps are cold, tough bastards who maybe go the pervert route because it pays and they don't give a shit about any other human. But Steamer happened to be a psycho and a pervert who got into pimping because he liked it. He inherited a decent chunk and sold a lot of child porn, at which he was very good since the Web these days is not an easy market to sell in. So the State took two thirds and the rest was for the victims. Kendra got nothing because she'd crossed the line by recruiting, but me and another six girls got half a mill each. So Mum got a pretty loaded credit card to shop for me, which I insisted on being for Dawn too, and the rest went to a college fund and I got the balance when I graduated. Dad's position was that HMG had done all the lawyering for us and spending years suing the local Education Authority was greedy. They did ask me and I talked it over with Minerva. The problem was that I agreed with Dad but felt that was far more the Katie in me than any input from Polly. But she pointed out that when Polly turned 18 she could change her mind on that, and if she hadn't emerged in two and a bit years she probably never would. ...................................................... If I hadn't been biking in with Dawn I might have turned around that first Monday. It felt odd putting on school uniform to start with. There'd been a lot of turmoil in the mid-21Cen and when I went to school the HTSC movement wasn't as near universal in education as it is now. High Tech Socially Conservative had been a response to the AI revolution. People sometimes wonder why we still have accidents to take my own field as an example. Like the Marie-Claire, both ships could have been fully automated couldn't they? Sure, but to be sure AIs would have to take over all maintenance, and construction and component manufacture, wich was all possible. But what would people do all day? Some countries went that route. Which left jobs for about less than 1% of the population who were creatives and a few service jobs that were more or less role-play, the remainder having comfortable lifestyles without lifting a finger. It always ended in chaos, often UN troops having to restore order. People went nuts, joined crazy cults and Neo- Luddites, very violent ones, always arose. Often because the AIs running those countries went even more nuts. So humans need to work it turns out. OK there'll always be accidents down to human stupidity, like that dumb woman who got me killed. But things like the Marie-Claire are the price of human freedom. Uploads are a safety net, mitigate the damage of things like the Marie-Claire. A few things, like nuclear power-plants and orbital power-stations we fully manage because they have to be completely safe, but we and humans working for a living is a working compromise. So people re-thought the whole computer thing, especially when perfect VR and memory implants came along. On the one hand you could have a superbly educated population, on the other nobody wanted to turn out a bunch of robots. It was all being worked out when I went to school and I'd never worn a school uniform. It varies across the world but Britain is fairly typical, they call it graduated citizenship. You can get a device with Web-links at 13, but you're barred from social media. At 16 you get a lot more rights and limited social media. At 18 you're an adult. The idea is to keep kids kids, as in grow up human. Schools have really high-tech VR set-ups for teaching designed to exploit memory implants, but human teachers to guide and to prevent immersion junkies. You could stay in a station all day but that's not allowed. You have to walk between classrooms, interact. The uniform is to remind you that you're a kid not an adult, at 16 you're a near-adult so not so restricted. Discipline is strict, like hold hands and you'll be told not to, kiss and you're in trouble. Sport isn't compulsory but activity is, dance, rock-climbing, even walking and talking in groups, it's all designed to mitigate computer reliance. They're tools, very useful ones but they have dangers. All of which didn't stop me sighing a bit at how like something out of the last century I looked. Blouse, tie, blazer and trousers or skirt. Flat shoes, discreet make-up. Me and Dawn both went trousers because we cycled in unless the weather was truly awful. At least I didn't have to wear a straw-boater or something. Dawn got the raw end of the deal but we used to braid each other's hair before breakfast and I enjoyed it. Although that first Monday I got a very stern lecture from my bodyguard about not taking any crap from anybody. I got the laser-sight thing when I walked into my home-classroom and over the day I got it several times. As in every eye on me and a sudden hush, pretty daunting. But I also got a sudden warm feeling at a deep voice. "Welcome back Miss Winters, take a seat." Mr Bright, and I guessed he must have been one of Polly's favourites from the warm feeling. West Indian, probably around 50 and he was my English teacher. I was to learn he was an excellent teacher. Didn't stand cheek but encouraged free-flowing discussion and didn't mind his opinions challenged. But my problem was that I didn't know which was my work-station so I hesitated, only to see a waving hand. "You're here Polly." The waver was a tall girl, looked mixed-race with curly hair but I couldn't have told you what mix. I walked over and got on the padded seat and logged in with the retinal scanner and the station came alive around me, the waver leaned over. "Hi, remember me? I'm Tansy." "No offence, but no. Er, they told you?" She nodded as the rest of the class filtered in, then pouted. "Shame, I like to think I'm pretty memorable. Still, if I'm strange I'm fun, you'll see." Mr Bright checked his screen to see we were all logged-in, then grinned. "Homework assignment." He waited out the groans. "OK, go to VR sims, headsets." I saw his flicker at me and raised my hand as I had a suspicion the headsets was because of me, he nodded. "Sir, why not lenses and ear-buds?" I thought he might think lenses triggering for me and was signalling that they weren't, he shrugged. "OK, free choice everybody." Headsets are less immersive and more common in things like Science classes. "Alright, you are each being assigned a different person in this sim. It's a brief scenario, and your homework will be to write a brief piece of fiction from the POV of your assigned character, this will be more difficult than you think, especially if you're the "bad guy". It only ran ten minutes but I saw his point. A slave-auction in 1840s New Orleans. I got a Plantation owner's wife and what a bitch. What came out of her mouth as she drew her husband's attentions to various prospects was horrible. Mr Bright led a discussion after, but it wasn't a history lesson. The point was the *fictional* depiction of slavery and what sort of angle we wanted to run. Too easy to write a piece where my bitch went home and promptly got hung in a revolt. I decided to be a bit more subtle, be a bit Jane Austen. For all her sneering at black people, the social order was going to bite her in the bum when she was destroyed in a social scandal. Wasn't sure what, I'd have to do some research...Mr Bright was like that, an interesting assignment that made you want to look things up. Apart from the laser-sight thing my first day back went OK. Tansy was making friend-signals and if she was as strange as she said she was fun. For a start she was actually a boy, but not exactly trans. She had boobs and a bum but they were prosthetics. Her parents were fine on the girl thing but completely nixed hormones and surgery. Tansy said she got pretty pouty at first but kind of saw their point when her Mum took her shopping. Tansy couldn't wait for Sixth Form because she was a complete clothes- horse. She really hadn't worked out her sexuality yet. She used the male changing-facilities because she got boners around girls. But she also really liked to flirt with boys at which she was really good. She really liked being pretty and even the stricter teachers cut her some slack with make-up because she could wheedle like nobody's business about being a girl who needed a "little extra help that way". Tansy was a character, but she had great empathy, and I think decided to take me under her wing a bit. But she wasn't the only one. I don't know what Pamela had said but it had obviously landed, my classmates were pretty much all kind. Being a girl was quite fun and I enjoyed the schoolwork, the VR stuff was a lot better than when I'd gone to school. Boys I wasn't so keen on, I did a lot of blushing but probably not at what they thought since it wasn't the Polly-is-shy bit. Dear Lord, had I been such an annoying twerp when I was 15? The blushing was because the answer was yes. Like, have some manners. OK, I get the sex-drive but at least *pretend* you're not eyes fixed on bouncing boobs when you watch us play tennis. Stuff like that. .................................................. Two things happened while I was still settling into school. First thing was my period, which I found pretty horrible. Firstly it was a messy business, I knew that in theory but the reality wan't fun. Whimpering through cramps clutching a heating-pad had me feeling pretty wussy too. Worse though was snapping at Dawn when she was only being what I usually found adorable. She was really sweet about it and somewhat blamed herself. Apparently I used to warn her when I got pre-menstrual so she knew to tone down the Tigger bit and she'd forgotten to mention it. I felt a lot less wussy later because I got used to it and learned to cope. I think, teenage hormones notwithstanding, Polly was a level- headed sort and I was still settling into that when I got my first menses so I didn't cope well. But also my 16th birthday arrived. I got the booklet from the government explaining all my new rights. Like I could appeal a lot of parental decisions although it cautioned to use that only in serious matters because it could escalate to emancipated minor if you weren't careful. I didn't see where I'd be using it, Mum and Dad were great. I got to vote in local but not national elections or referendums. Access to social media under restrictions. I was over the age of consent and could have sex and even marry with parental consent. Barf, no thanks. A bunch of financial stuff and I could get a part-time job. I could have wine with a meal at the venue's discretion. But I also got a cake, and a party. My birthday fell on a Saturday and my grandparents and a couple of cousins showed up for a birthday lunch. My parents had kept my grandparents away for a bit, but I was doing "Polly" pretty well so it was time to meet them. I suprised myself, initiated hugs and they felt good, really good. But the party was down to Tansy. Not a party I suppose, we were going to do Girl's Night Out. Around eight girls from school and my visiting cousins Mary and Alice celebrating with an Italian and dancing at a teen venue. They're strict on age and close early but they're fun I gathered. Dawn got pouty that she wasn't included but Mum took her aside for a Talk. Talks were worse than being grounded, so even Dawn got squished a bit. But she did like what Tansy did, which was to take us both on a Mum-not- allowed shopping-trip for the party. It was quite the experience. Tansy blew in like a hurricane and went though my clothes like a tornado. I thought I had some nice stuff but she flipped through it going "no...no...no..God no...", like that. Occasionally she'd toss something on the bed with a "quite nice...not totally hideous...do in a pinch I suppose." Dawn was entranced, in some ways Tansy was an older version of her. More sophisticated and stylish but another force of nature. "Ok," she said, pointing to what was on my bed, "this is what you think looks good on you. You're not a totally hopeless case, you have some taste. But you're sixteen now, you need to be a bit bolder. Not you." She said pointing a stern finger at Dawn, who blinked rapidly. "Cute and pretty still works for you. So you," I now got the finger, "are going to put yourself in my hands. Wear this, hurry up." Bossy cow Tansy is. But I put on the dress, a retro number from the 40s in turn retro from the 1950s. Green with red poppies, tight waist and flared skirt. Broadish straps, no cleavage but tight to the boobs. "Now, you look pretty in that but we are going to make you *fabulous*. Come along, time's a wasting." So off we swept, me dragged out by Riptide Tansy and Dawn looking like she was thinking "now there's what I *call* a role-model". I think Mum might have jibbed at Tansy being so high-handed in insisting it was just us girls, but she knew Tansy had gone out of her way to include me in her group of girlfriends and I guess it was obvious I was enjoying the experience. I was suprised at the budget I got to shop with but turned out my grandparents had been generous. I didn't realise it at the time but Tansy was exercising enormous restraint. To me she looked fabulous, out of school uniform she really shone. Kind of a tasteful matador look, with a bolero jacket failing to contain the boobs and an electric-blue blouse and scarlet cummerband. But normally she'd be in and out of that outfit like a yo-yo and trying on all sorts. But she made it all about me and Dawn. Mostly I got ordered to try on stuff while Dawn and Tansy discussed me, my input was not required. But Dawn got to try stuff too while Tansy consulted me and Dawn got the "shut-up and twirl". At least I didn't have to model the lingerie. I'd never have gone for hold-up stockings a garter and a thong and bra-set in lacy red Mum would have definitely had a heart-attack over. Tansy got stern, as in yes, I know you don't plan on showing them but *you'll* know they're there. But finally Tansy told me "buy it" and I protested. "I can't! Dad'll never let me out of the house!" It was scarlet and sexy. Sure it looked great on me. Knee-length but with a thigh-slash, very loose below so I'd flash thigh if I swirled, tight at the waist but that wasn't the problem. "There's way too much cleavage on this thing!" It had sleeves and shoulders, but if it wasn't slutty that I had boobs was really obvious. Dawn giggled. "Scaredy-cat, you look great sis." It was alright for her, Tansy had picked out a pair of decorated jeans and peasant blouse for Dawn that really were "pretty and cute". Dad would go "aw" not "Christ no Polly". Tansy sighed. "I said fabulous and I meant it, so don't argue." She turned to the shop assistant. "Needs a hat." "A what!" "Do shut-up Polly." Before I knew it various hideous objects were being rammed onto my head. "Aha! Now this is what I'm talking about!" At least it matched, but the scarlet beret looked silly perched on my head. But Tansy was adamant. "I have a look in mind, when I'm done you'll thank me, now stop whining and pay-up." Tansy's outfit was at my place, Dad was driving me, Mary and Alice to the resteraunt. Tansy got changed in Dawn's room while she was having dinner, but the minature buzzsaw wasn't going to miss out on the fun and arrived while Tansy was impatiently ordering my hands aside so she could do my hair. I'm amazed she let me do my own make-up. What I ended up with was the hair on my head set to one side, a thick coiled braid with a scarlet ribbon at the base across my right shoulder and down my front and through the cleavage. Discretely pinned so that there was cleavage to see and more hinted at but not quite as revealing as I'd thought. The beret at a jaunty angle was a cheeky touch. I got a look from Tansy that was easy to translate. "Point taken, I look fabulous." "OK shoes and bags girls, let's go." She ruffled Dawn's hair, "If I'm still around I'll do you when you're 16." I expected trouble from Dad when his jaw dropped a bit, but he was on- board with Mum I later found out. Mostly from Dawn. After I'd left Mum started crying in the kitchen and if Dad didn't cry when he got back he was onboard with what she was crying about. I thought of myself prior to becoming Polly as a girl but that's not what her parents saw. They did see their little girl sometimes of course, but what they were very proud of was a girl becoming a young woman. Love, of course, but also pride that they were doing their job of raising me to be a grown woman. It must have been cruel beyond belief to have that snatched away from them. To see me having that 16th birthday, looking how they'd imagined it...I'm not suprised Mum cried. I didn't realise for quite some time that there was another factor at play or the reason for it. I was doing Polly much better than I thought. ................................................. I loved, totally loved, my Girls Night. Pasta, creamy mushroom sauce, side-order of garlic mushrooms. For dessert a big plate of tiramasu brought out on a trolley with sparklers and the servers leading a happy birthday song. Once or twice we got a bit raucous, we did have Tansy along, but mostly we just chattered and had fun. At one point for some reason we got on to wasp stings, if I was taking part and laughing I was finding that I was still Quiet Polly. But I forced myself to top the lot. When I was 7 and Dawn 3 we were paddling in the sea and she got stung by a jellyfish, God knows where 7yr olds get ideas from but I thought you could die unless somebody peed on a jellyfish sting. Dawn didn't appreciate my nursing efforts and ran screaming to Mum, got even more annoyed when Mum near peed herself at my solemn explanation of how I'd saved my sister's life. Then we went to Paulina's, a nightclub. It's pretty cool, 9:30 curfew for under 16s, 10:30 for under 18s and then it goes all-adult. The only downside is that it uses intelligent software for the dance-floor and that night there were more than an average number of Starkers in. Stark to me sounds like cats in a sack fighting, with the bass-line being supplied by Dobermans howling. I can live with Pearl, Slow and Brainfreeze, quite like Cometstrike if I'm in the mood. But Stark had me scuttling behind the sound baffles. I kept it a bit quiet but my real favourite is Mozart, I'm a dork so sue me. But there was enough Pearl and Slow to get some dancing in. We got boys, which most of the girls were happy with but I stuck with Tansy who has a really neat trick if she's not in the mood. She can give a firm "uh-uh" but with a really nice smile so it doesn't sting. At one point we were finger-dancing to a Slow track, Morning Kiss, when she sighed and grabbed my wrist. "Chill-out room, now." We snagged a fizzy grapefruit each and she sat me down. "Look, the rest of the girls are used to this, if it jams you I'll understand but I'd love it if you were level-devil with it." "Go on." "Well I stopped the dance because I was, um, getting turned on by you." "Oh." "As in..." she made a gesture with her finger that was unmistakeable. I blushed and she shrugged. "Told you I was strange." "You also said you were fun. I've seen you flirt with boys, I kind of thought you were, you know, into them." She shook her head. "Yes and no." "So you're bi?" "No, I'm me. Look, I love both my parents but on this stuff Mum doesn't understand but Dad is like, level-devil to infinity squared." I laughed. "He'd have to be dead to be *that* level-devil." "Are you calling me prone to hyperbole?" "Yeah." She grinned. "Only six weeks and you have me nailed, well done sister. Alright, it's like this." There's that ancient nursery rhyme and she sang the first bit. "When I was just a little boy...I liked girl-stuff. When I grew up a bit I got into football and cast aside girlish things. But then I got into girl-stuff again, more and more. Dad noticed, thought I was probably gay but didn't say anything. Then my sister caught me fully dressed in her stuff and beat the crap out of me." "That's horrible." "What? Don't be silly, hyperbole remember? What I got was "don't, slap, poke around in my stuff, slap, without, slap, *asking*, slap, you little shit, slap". It's *rude* Cherie can't stand, who do you think taught me make-up and set me on the road to acquiring such exquisite taste?" I later met Cherie and I could see what Tansy meant, lovely but a bit of an alpha female. "Well I decided I wanted to do girl full-time. But Mum got way g-force about it." "Huh?" "I mean, she wasn't like Dictator Mum or anything, just took the whole damn thing too seriously. Like did I want to register as female? Looking ahead did I want F or M on my driving licence, then there's college applications. And do we need to discuss your sexuality, like that." "And your Dad?" "He just said to have fun with it, that's what teenage years are for. Don't make any irreversible decisions. OK, go shopping with Cherie and if your grades drop I'll lock your girl clothes away." It was interesting but didn't exactly explain the leaving the dance floor bit, so I put the question. "Yeah, sex, my "sexuality". I'm 15 sweetheart, the only thing I really know about sex is that I'm not ready for it yet." "On board with that." "I flirt with boys my age because it's fun but I don't find them attractive. I do find older boys attractive, like Rob Henderson." "The Head Boy? Going for gold there Tansy." "Yeah, but he does have that great hair and I've seen him swimming, great abs and he's packing." She gave a squirmy shudder, then got back to explaining. "But I do get turned on by girls too. Anyway, you're new but when I first started dressing the girls," she waved in the direction of the dance-floor, "were sweet as could be with me, which some weren't. But in part because I worked hard at not doing the boy-thing, you know," her eyes which were on mine flickered down to my boobs, yeah I knew what she meant. "So it's a deal. It's way more fun being a girl but sometimes I get turned on in a boy way, I don't push it and my girlfriends pretend not to notice. So there it is, I like you almost all the time as a friend but sometimes my inner boy pops up, literally, which is why I didn't dress with you. If it creeps you I'll understand." I got where she was coming from but she was, in my opinion, way overthinking it. I hugged her, planted a smacker on her cheek. "Last thing you are is creepy, I'm level-devil with it." "Really?" "Well, not to infinity squared but maybe to infinity." So we went back to dancing. The party broke up at 9:30, some of the girls were over 16 and my cousin Mary was 18. But we left all together and Mary was grinning hugely. She had a boyfriend at home but had enjoyed collecting a bunch of fellows trying their luck with the perfect excuse to duck out. Dad was waiting, dropped Tansy home then took us back. We had a supper where we all teased Mary about her shameless behaviour. Mary and Alice had my bed and I was sharing with Dawn. It had been a long day and she wasn't happy I dozed off while she was still chattering in my ear, but I'd mastered that trick back when I was 9 so she should be used to it. .......................................................... The bombshell went off in my head over lunch the next day and it was tough not letting it show until I could get to my room and talk privately with Minerva. So I asked for a family meeting and could I bring Minerva in? So we had it around the kitchen table with Minerva on the wall-screen. I felt a bit stupid asking but braced myself. "Mum, Dad, was there a time we were on a beach, I'd be about 7, when I peed on Dawn?" Dawn squawked. "You've never peed on me!" Mum laughed. "You've forgotten sweetie, you were pretty mad at the time, at me too because it was funny. The jellyfish thing?" I nodded, waved at Minerva. "As you know, several of us volunteered to download into the memory implant. We have searched all possible data and no record of such an event exists." Mum frowned. "But it happened." "Not my point Mrs Winters. The point is that Katie could not have known of the event prior to her download. Polly says nobody has mentioned it to her since the hospital so there can only be one possible source, Polly's memories prior to the Blast overdose." That brought a silence, even from Dawn. Mum and Dad shared a look, Dad spoke. "So you think Polly's coming back?" I nodded, and he smiled, so did Dawn and Mum. "We knew that." "Huh?" He spread his hands. "We didn't want to pressure you but we, er, spoke behind your back. You're way too good at "being Polly" to be just acting it out, especially with Dawn." "You little traitor! You never said anything." She tilted her nose at me, sniffed. "I told you that first day I'd help bring you back, spying on you for Mum and Dad was part of it. You're not the same, maybe you never will be, but you're more her every day." "If I were you I'd stay cute, that way I just might not beat you to death." I looked at Mum and Dad. "So the question became for me at what point to remove the implant, but Minerva says it's not a simple question." "The entity we might call "pre-Polly" might seem to be emerging faster than predicted. But we are in uncharted waters and need to proceed with caution. I am reasonably confident that all memories since waking up in hospital are stored in Polly's organic brain as well as the implant. As we hoped, Pre-Polly's memories are beginning to cohere around the Katie personality introduced through the implant. If we removed it I cannot predict at this point if that process would continue. There are two possible courses to take at this point. It is a matter for Polly, and you Mr and Mrs Winters which we choose." "Hey!" said Dawn, "Don't I get a say?" Mum gave her a firm look. "You get a say Dawn, you don't get a vote." Dawn's a bright kid, she got it. Dad frowned. "Actually, I'm not sure anybody other than Polly gets a vote. It's her life we're talking and she's 16, not a child anymore." I gave a bit of a shaky laugh. "Maybe, but I am so open to advice, even from the family idiot." Minerva went on. "One approach would be for me to probe regularly to assess the state of Polly's recollections of Pre-Polly. There are two possible drawbacks, I would be interfering in a process that seems to be going well and it could cause Polly to become frustrated. The other approach would be to simply let the process continue." Dad nodded. "By me and I'm pretty sure Liz agrees, we leave it be. Liz?" Mum nodded. "Given where we were we're more than happy. We do see differences from Polly but not so important ones if you know what I mean, and it's hard anyway to tell with a girl your age. You're more outgoing than Polly was but she might have changed that way too. You're very Polly with Dawn, so it's like we have our family back. We're very grateful. Dawn?" There are things everyone knows are impossible, like the Earth suddenly deciding to spin backwards. One happened, Dawn was silent. I think Mum and Dad were as shocked as me, Mum called her name again, she shook herself. "I was thinking. I think you're all being mean." I sometimes wondered what it must be like to be Dawn, her head seems to operate at double speed to everybody else and you can never predict what will come out of her mouth. Mum and Dad "mean" though, that truly was bizarre. Dawn pointed at Minerva. "Especially you. I mean, thanks for what you did for Polly but she's not some rat in a lab." "That is not how I see her." "Yeah it is. Tell me you don't want to see if you can use this with other people who get sick on Blast." "Of course, but Polly is my patient." "But she's not just Polly is she? She's Katie too. How can you even think of taking out her implant? Who she is now would die, that's not fair after what she's done for us." This was getting kind of metaphysical, I could see Dawn's point, but in the end it was Polly mattered. "Dawn, what if Polly really does come all the way back?" I tapped my head, "I'm pretty sure there's only room for one in here." That got me a big eye-roll. "And you called me the family idiot? If she was going to "talk" she'd be doing it by now. Don't you get it? You are Polly, maybe Polly Plus, but my sister. Do you think some guy I never met would be going nuts on the sideline when I scored yesterday morning? Tell me off for swearing at that driver? Know when I needed help with homework and when I was trying to get you to do it for me?" Mum chimed in. "She's maybe got a point. How about this? Unless she really wants the implant removed we all agree to stop talking about it." Dad nodded and Dawn got a faint smug look on her face at getting her own way, Mum soon wiped it off. "So while we're all here Dawn, let's talk about you swearing and trying to dodge homework shall we?" ............................................................... If she didn't hover Pamela Forbes was there for me. Mostly people were either nice to me or just didn't notice me, but there were exceptions. The big cowards just made it clear from behind hands that they were mocking me, others made comments I'd "accidently" overhear. Pamela would sometimes chat in a corridor, or drop by at lunch for a chat. I didn't make a deal of the cat-calling, it didn't bother me that much. But one time I was having a pee when I heard voices outside, when I came out I knew it was on purpose because I'd walked past them to get into the loo. It wasn't nice, stuff about they'd "heard" I'd been turning tricks in London, another had "heard" I was a Blast-dealer. Stuff like that. I came out to wash my hands to see four Fourth Formers giving me challenging looks. Four white girls, varying sizes but I didn't fancy four to one odds. On the other hand if I did nothing they'd carry on doing it. What I didn't know was that Pamela had her ear to the ground, she knew those four were making up lurid stories about me. She saw them nudging each other before going into the toilet, so she'd listened outside the door. So she came in all blond elegance in a sky-blue number with a very short overjacket in grass-green. The four started to drift out, but Pamela raised a finger. "Stay where you are." She didn't raise her voice but they stopped dead, she spoke like there was no possibility of disobeying. She gave them a cool look. "You know, I hear things too the difference being I hear true things and I don't pass them on. Like I happen to know a certain person here present gave her boyfriend a blow-job in the toilet at Stacey Green's party last week. That's just an example, you might want to wonder what I know about all four of you. Now, would you like me to start talking rather than listening?" That got a chorus of "no, Miss Forbes". "I thought not. So isn't it nice that all four of you are volunteering for a week of litter-patrol? Or, I could have one of my regular little chats with Mr Reid, he's not very keen on bullies." They all gave defeated nods. "OK, *now* you can go, and don't imagine I won't check about the litter." She came over, I caught a whiff of vanilla scent. "You OK Polly?" I shrugged. "Sticks and stones might bother me, four to one worried me. But words can't hurt me." "Good for you, but that wasn't entirely about you. Trust me, because I've done it, words *can* hurt you. Does no harm for those four to know they're not in the shadows." I was drying my hands when I was struck by a thought. "How did you know about the, er, blowjob?" She laughed and tapped her temple. "If you want to be a successful bully you have to have an instinctive knowledge of how people think. I made that up. Half the Fourth Year were at that party and it was panic stations when her brother came home early so good odds they were there. Excellent odds a bunch like that all have *something* to hide, so if I know about a secret blowjob what else might I know that I could tell?" She got stern. "For future reference, tell me if that sort of thing happens OK? Even if it doesn't bother you there's kids it will. OK, see you around Polly." With that the Golden Girl was gone. Elegantly, leaving behind a whiff of vanilla. It was a little embarrasing to realise I had kind of a crush on her. I don't mean I wanted to get kissy with her, but she was only a year older than me and seemed to have mastered femininity while being tough as radiation armour beneath that. I hid a secret from even Dawn, I actually practised walking like her. She had great posture even when not moving. A few things happened as the end of the school year approached. First- up was when Mum and Dad overnighted on a theatre-trip, Dawn complained she wasn't feeling well and was going to bed early. I thought about it for a while, then knocked and entered her room. I handed her a pad, and she kind of blinked a lot. "You think?" I shrugged. "Could be. You're about the healthiest person I know so it could be that. Need help with that?" "God no, you creep." "Given that you never knock before barging in my room that's cheeky Dawn." I turned out to be right. Periods really pissed Dawn off, not that she got them bad but that they got in the way of football. She was becoming a right Sweater, what the Yanks call a jock, sports-mad. As well as the school she was in a local team and star of their Under-14 team. While it meant Mum and/or Dad driving her around a lot it worked for them. Dawn burning off her endless energy on sports made for less domestic disasters as she clattered around the house like a minature typhoon. Something a bit odd happened just after her 13th birthday. Mum had driven Dawn to a game and it was just me and Dad and he'd just started a comedy on the viewer. I'd got myself a bowl of ice-cream, without even thinking I curled up next to him and hauled his arm around me. I felt utterly content as I cuddled-up, ate my ice-cream and giggled at the antics on the screen. I finished my bowl, put it on the table and, before putting his arm back, kissed his cheek. "Love you Dad." "Love you too." I didn't think any of that in advance, it just happened. If I sometimes worried about who I truly was, I loved my Dad, as my father. I loved my Mum as my mother and Dawn as my sister. The best place in the world was cuddled-up with one or more of them. I didn't know, could maybe never know, just how much of me was Polly now and how much Katie. But it was time to stop worrying about that and simply be Polly. God, Fate or technology had given Polly a chance. It was time to build that life. ........................................................... I aced my end of Fifth assessment so I was going into the Lower Sixth in the academic stream. But the weekend before the end of year Pamela gave me an invite, to a Georgian garden-party at her home. "What would I wear?" "Period clothes of course, don't panic, I've plenty I've outgrown that will fit. Bring your sister if you like, there's a few kids her age coming. If it doesn't outrage her dignity I have kid's clothes too. Come early and I'll brief you." I was suprised Dawn came, if the English of Austen's time had invented baseball they hadn't got around to football. If it wasn't a Stately home the Forbes's house was definitely a mansion, and, suprise, suprise, a Georgian one. She brought us quite ordinary mugs of tea then took us into a bedroom that held nothing but period clothing, men's and womens. "Ok girls, Georgian is a role-play, a little game played in gorgeous clothing. Nobody says you have to take it seriously but go along and it's a nicer time than you think. For beginners, act like you're in a Jane Austen novel." Dawn frowned slightly. "I'm not sure I can talk like that." "You don't have to say "fie sir" or like that. But no swearing, ever, and you always talk politely. You can flirt, or tease, even insult, but politely, with style. There are rules but nobody expects you to get them all first time. To most you'll be Dawn or "young Miss" because by the standards of that time you're a child. To Polly most will be Miss or Mr unless invited to use a first name. I'll introduce her to others as Miss Polly Winters but I know her so to me she's Polly or my dearest Polly." Dawn looked dubious. "Why all that?" "It's a game, but we find it a way to relax. Look, no devices OK? And we talk period. We do talk around stuff, like if somebody mentions the Mars Project we refer to the King's Ares Colony, like that. But if you're arguing you have to rely on your own wits, no search algorithm to hand you answers on a plate. Nobody messaging you or news alerts while you're talking. We live in a world where there's millions of tons in orbit and you can hyper to Australia in under an hour. This is just a time-out from the modern world." Dawn shrugged in her typical what the hell I'll give it a go way, I quite liked the idea. If not the experience I had as an Upload a modern workstation can pour data at you and with a memory implant you can store it. Sometimes at school I felt like I was part-computer, or kind of as if my mind was a cluttered warehouse of facts. A time-out might be nice. "Ok then Pamela how do we go about it?" She started stripping gesturing us to do the same. I got the Golden Girl thing again, her body was as perfect as the rest of her. A model would kill for the proportions, what you'd call an "ample bosom", narrow waist and perfect hips above long and, you guessed it, elegant legs. She ended up in panties, held up a finger. "Underwear. Basically a chemise, otherwise your nips are on show. As for panties you got three choices, technically four. Diehards have two choices, go commando because that's what most women did then, or drawers that are ugly as hell and modelled on men's. Or, just wear knickers or pantaloons." She pulled a pair out of a drawer, pulled them on to demonstrate. They were quite pretty, white but with lacy ribbon detailing and frills, high waist and went to about mid-thigh. "These are really Victorian, me I just wear panties. So what's it to be girls?" I was feeling adventurous. "I'll try the pantaloons." I had nothing on Dawn. "Commando for me." She handed me the pantaloons and gave Dawn a chemise and put one on herself, they were plain white linen. Quite comfortable. "OK Dawn, pick a dress, these are all your size. Time for corsets." "Oh come on!" She wagged a finger at me. "These aren't Victorian, we're not crushing your waist. They're what they had instead of a bra. Push the boobs up and support from below rather than the shoulders. You don't want them on a really hot day but today isn't." Before I knew it I was being laced up. "Say when Polly." She began tightening and I soon squawked "when". "Don't be a wuss, you've got nice boobs so let's put the boy's eyes out." To be fair it wasn't so bad, maybe like wearing a bra a bit too small. I did Pamela and then she turned to Dawn. Her dress was pretty simple, white but with vertical pink stripes. "Right, bonnet." Dawn looked mutinous and Pamela did her Voice of God bit. "You don't have to *keep* it on Dawn. But the first part is to get us in the mood, OK?" She put a bonnet on Dawn's head, in keeping with the dress it was white but had a pink ribbon threaded through which tied under the chin. I gasped at the effect. Dawn looked adorable, so cute a litter of puppies would struggle to compete. Pamela smiled at her. "Wish I had a little sister to dress-up. Right, let's sort your sister out." From Dawn's grin I reckoned there was a bonnet in my future too. First I got stockings, below the knee and quite light tan. Then we got dresses and Pamela got wicked. "I'm modest at school of course but today we are doing heaving bosoms." "Er..." "Don't argue. Think of it as acting, today we are doing genteel hussy." My dress was a lovely powder-blue, my hair wasn't period but it's black and so made a nice contrast as it fell down my back. I'd really wanted to cut it shorter but in the end I'd settled for waist length. I could still do plenty with it but it was a lot less bothersome than when it hung below my bum. I got a sort of short jacket in green that would lace-up in front, if Pamela had let me. She wanted my boobs out there and they certainly were. I've never shown so much cleavage in my life, although Pamela in gold with a blue jacket was showing more. I got a bonnet with a jaunty feather slanting off it and off we went. Turned out Pamela's parents were kind of founder members of the Georgian thing in the 50s, they had it down pat. It was drinks first, fruit punches, on a terrace to the rear. There were even servants in period gear. I'd thought that would cost a fortune but there was a rota, you took turns playing gentry and the humble lower orders. Dawn made a bee-line for some kids setting up for "baseball" which is mentioned in Austen. No clue as to how it was played but they did it as rounders. Dawn isn't me, not at all bothered by going up to a bunch of strangers and just joining in. Pamela squired me round, introducing me as Miss Winters, new to Chester but late of Prestwich. I fluttered my fan a lot and I admit I enjoyed it. I'd got a brief tutorial, they were practical as in cooling, but they did make a good flirting-tool. Also acceptable to give a whack to the wrist at an overly bold sally. Maybe it's the whole point of that sort of roleplay, I was a novice but I did a lot of flirting. There were a couple of boys I knew from school but some Upper Sixth and two around 19. It wasn't all flirting, some just chatting but I think it amused Pamela to see me throw myself into the courting. It helped that Regency costume really suits men. There was an eclectic mix but it was like being a swan between peacocks, the men were more colourful we more graceful and elegant. Tea, with cakes and such was served, and I wan't suprised to see Dawn displaying her ESP and going past me like a missile. She could find a macaroon in a post-earthquake hurricane. Dawn enjoyed herself but wasn't planning on a repeat however superior the macaroons. I did get very stern orders re bringing back a doggy-bag if I went back. I was in a conversation corner sipping tea with Pamela and an old guy when it happened. He was telling us about the 40s and it was kind of interesting. "The demonic machines apeing the minds of men" was florid, but it really was what pure AIs were. He'd actually been a survivor of the Brighton Massacre, we did that at school but a flesh and blood tale was kind of smooth. But I saw Pamela's face light up and when I saw what she was looking at I understood. Adonis walked toward us. Wasn't his name but that was how I thought of him. He was putting a crested helmet on a side-table because he was in uniform. Red jacket, cummerbund, breeches moulded to powerful thighs. Saber at his side he cut quite the figure. Broad shoulders above a trim waist, shortish blonde hair for a Georgian. But the face...gleaming blue eyes, square- jawed and about perfectly symettrical. He even had better eyelashes than me. Looked early twenties so a bit old for me, but a girl can dream can't she? Pamela promptly dashed them. "Robert! You came!" Oh pooh, Adonis...I mean Robert...was taken. But after they'd kissed each other's cheek I perked right up. "Polly, meet my brother Robert, First Lieutenant in the Life Guards. Robert this is my friend Miss Polly Winters." I'd got used to having my hand kissed over the course of the party, but I got some very tingly feelings I wasn't used to when his lips brushed the back of my hand. "Miss Winters, delighted to meet you. My sister has spoken of your many virtues, she neglected to inform me of your beauty." To my utter astonishment I managed to reply, maybe having my heaving bosom on show had me bold. "Likewise delighted sir. Your sister similarly neglected to tell me her brother was such a gallant officer." "If you will all excuse me I must make my respects to Mother and Father." The upside of him leaving was the rear view was pretty great too. Pamela gave me an amused look, I was putting my fan to its' cooling function, vigorously. "Pretty isn't he?" "Too right, maybe it's the uniform." "He looks pretty good in his real one, he actually is in the Life Guards. Gets worse, he has a George Cross. His platoon was on manouvres when a moonquake hit the Ganesh base, he got it for bravery on the rescue. Please don't get a crush on him." "That obvious huh?" "Yeah. But just once I'd like to have a female friend not besotted with Robert, just for the novelty of it." I think she maybe had a word, he was very charming but cut out flirting with me. Anyway the competition would have been fierce. OK, I was too young for him but some of the women in the clots that formed around him were a little old to be giggling girlishly. Pamela asked if I wanted to try a bit of Georgian over the summer, pick a few dresses out or design my own. "I don't think I can afford it." "We're pretty organised you know, more or less a club. We have an automated tailor. One of the nice things is there's no copyright on the clothes so all it costs is material." She drove us home, in costume so Mum and Dad could go all gooey over their lovely daughters in their finery. Grass-stained in Dawn's case but with her bonnet back on she still pulled off cute. We protested but Pamela gave us the clothes. Dawn went for a bath and if I didn't know why consciously I bolted my door while I changed. I'd enjoyed the party but felt an odd mix of energised and tired, maybe a nap? I stripped off, Dawn had loosened the corset and I took it off with relief. As promised it wasn't torture and did help with posture but a bra was better. I slipped between the sheets naked and found mysef squirming, it took me a bit to understand that what I was was horny as hell. That dawning seemed to unlock a lot of memories. Pre-Polly had been, in her way, a very sexual being. She'd been no stranger to either masturbation or orgasm. But she was what you'd call a slow-starter as in for her horny started in the head. And if sex for her had been very intense when she got there she was easily derailed. More than a few times her busy fingers had her flying high only for Dawn hammering on the door wanting to borrow a racket or something crashed her right down with not much chance of resuming where she'd left off. I suppose I hadn't done any experimentation because it seemed at first creepy as hell to be fondling a 15yr old. As I settled into being Polly I adopted her sexuality, she really required some sort of trigger for her sex-drive to kick in. I don't recall boys her age being much of a trigger for Pre-Polly, more keen on a few vid-stars and Harden Davis the US tennis star. But I'd just made a discovery. Robert Forbes made an absolutely dandy trigger. You could have fired an anti-meteorite laser with him. So I had myself a very nice little fantasy involving being caught in a room with him wearing just my pantaloons. I knew I had to take my time, I wasn't a girl who aroused quickly. I had one hand cupping and fondling my breasts, not so much for the thing itself but imagining Robert doing it. Over my weak and not very convincing protests, very strong male confidently assuring and guiding innocent little me. Sort of innocent, I was exploring how to unfasten his breeches. But for me my thighs are a major erogenous zone, I ran my right hand up the outside and then down the inside, teasing myself by avoiding what was starting to be a throbby zone at my centre. Switched hands and teased myself. Turned out Robert was an *excellent* kisser, sort of gently masterful. Wicked of a man of the world, a soldier, to introduce a young maiden to such worldly pleasures. I was helpless to resist in his strong arms, my body yielding to the strange winds of desire blowing through me...cut me some slack, I was a 16yr old girl who'd just been in AustenWorld, cliche was me. My hand though knew what to do, my palm cupped me and a finger teased my inner lips. I knew I was moist but not yet ready, take your time Polly and the reward is huge. Robert lost patience, I gasped as my pantaloons were torn from my body and I lay exposed before him. "Do not move." He commanded and I froze at his firm command. I lost my last chance to save my virtue as he slipped his trews and wrenched off his shirt to pounce upon me. Later I might be shamed at my answering lust, but I opened to him, my heart, my lips and my limbs. Back in 2079 my finger entered me and drew up. Shallow and I was still teasing, working myself but still avoiding an increasingly throbby and hungry button. Two fingers, deeper. I gave up all propriety, abandoned myself to the lustful warrior playing with me. He was a man of experience, I a virgin, how could I resist his attentions? He chuckled confidently as he lay upon me, I should not look but could not resist. His fleshy sabre was about to pierce my maidenhood, as I lay beneath his mighty frame it eased my qualms that I could no more stop him than a kitten could deny a mastiff. Finally my clitoris. The strangest sensation. Part relief at sensation replacing my teasing, partly rising tension as the feeling rose within me. It all got a bit psychedelic after that. Flashes of that ruthless seducer Lt Forbes wringing notes from my unsullied body no pianoforte has ever sounded, alternating with a rather expert finger and thumb circling technique on my grateful clitoris. I got there, came big. Lt Forbes wasn't there, it was all sensation. I ought to be in a unique position, to answer that age-old question of which is better the female or the male orgasm? I can't. Orgasm is a thing of the moment, difficult to recall. But for me, Polly, I can tell you one thing for sure. Maybe because it was harder for me to get there, I don't know, but in one way my orgasms as Polly were far superior to those of Martin or Katie. They were immensely *satisfying*. Post coitus omnes animales sont triste? Not Polly. I felt *great*. Kind of revelled in this wonderful body I'd been gifted with. That day was a big change for me. I'm not saying an orgasm changed everything because it didn't. But I accepted myself for where I was rather than who I was. Young enough to play girl sometimes, usually when I wanted something from Dad. Old enough to take on serious responsibilities, like being left in charge of Dawn overnight. But I was in-between. I'd enjoyed socially interacting with adults at the tea-party but I wasn't one. I had needs and desires but better to take my time with both. Robert was fine as a fantasy-figure but he was a grown man and I wasn't ready for that. I wanted something in-between like me, not the boys I found annoying but not a man I wasn't ready for. After that long conversation I had with the ceiling I took a long bath. Ruthlessly using the promise of future macaroons I got Dawn to do my hair. ........................................................... The Final Assembly of the school year had me in floods of tears. Some of it was just the business of the school, like Pamela had been elected Head Girl again. I gathered that about the only "nays" were Starkers. Turned out Georgians didn't usually dress at school, there'd been an escalating feud with the Starkers. About philosophy of all silly things. Factions are about style and music mainly but they all have a role-play. Like Strikers do the post-Apocalypse survival stuff, Slows are all about dance and in their way as graceful as Georgians. Starks are into what they call Neo-Primitivism, as in our world is too reliant on technology and we should all connect more with our "inner- animal". A "friendly" debate in a class before I arrived had escalated. Personally I found the face-paint of their "totem-animal" bloody stupid, but each to their own. But a Starker mocking the Georgians for "fake" primitivism at their parties had brought the riposte that that was pretty rich coming from a bunch poncing around in holo-shoes. Georgians take a holiday from the modern world, they're not stupid enough to think the past was better. They'd, Pamela prominent, humiliated the Starkers. Going full-time at school was them carrying on the feud, since they honed their conversational skills when roleplaying rather than animal grunting to a beat they were winning. Head Boy was Alan Fields, he was a Pearl and everybody liked him. He was sort of a Sweat as well, silvered at the English U-18 Taekwando Finals. Tall, not the most handsome in the school but a cheerful smile usually plastered on his face. Pearls do elaborate decoration on their jackets dedicated to their favourite band. He was into East Wind, probably crushing hard on the impossibly hot lead singer Amy Wang. But it was the prize-giving undid me. Turned out my effort the day I returned to school, Mrs Fanshaw's Fall, had won that year's prize in Creative Writing. I blushed a lot, wanted to scuttle up there and get my framed certificate from Mr Reid with as little fuss as possible. But the polite applause got bigger and my classmates started it. They stood up and by the time I got my certificate everybody was standing to applaud. They all knew what had happened to me and I don't think that the applause was because I was hugely popular or anything. It was just a moment of solidarity, I'd given an anonymous interview to a journalist after the main trial and I'd made a deal of how much my schoolmates had helped me recover. So I was a bit blurry as I shook Mr Reid's hand, but floody and burying myself in Tansy when I got back to my seat. .................................................... I guess the summer was an odd one. Not least the house seemed very quiet without Dawn in it. She'd been talent-spotted in a big way. There were a few Premier League teams keen to get her in their Youth Acadamies, but they're strictly barred from approaching kids until they're 14. But the FA were offering her a month-long footy camp, not just the coaching, she got to meet some of the England stars her walls were plastered with pictures of. Mum hummed and hawed about it but I think I made a compelling point. Dawn doesn't really do sulky or stroppy, did we want to spend the summer finding out if she could? I missed her less than I thought, because when she vid-called me she was so happy that I'd smile when I thought of her being away. I missed Tansy though, she spent the summer in Leeds with her sister. But I wasn't lonely, I spent much of the summer doing Georgian, it was fun. The maid thing was odd when I took my turn at that, because it's largely silent service. But I enjoyed it, kind of like having a front-row seat at at a theatre-show. By the time the next school year started I was a Georgian although, to my great relief, they were dropping it at school. Not least because Tansy would have killed me. My settlement landed on me and it had to be taken into account. The maid thing had me lobbying my parents to get a part-time job, I think I'd do well at waitressing. But Dad had a point. Good that I had a work-ethic but I didn't actually need the money did I? Had I considered volunteer work? He wasn't entirely happy with my choice but he'd started the ball rolling. It took some fiddling with my class schedule and remote learning but I went on tour with Minerva around schools preaching on the dangers of Blast. I even did a live VR to a bunch of French schools. I don't know how much effect it had but it was worth a shot. Minerva could do the medical dangers but I was that rarest of creatures, a survivor of a Blast overdose. I had that perspective and also a certain insight from my time as an Upload. VR is great but it's real-life that matters, ultimately VR is hollow. Without real-life as an anchor it has no meaning and all the Blast in the world won't change that. Plus there's predators out there. I never saw mine coming but if somebody offers you Blast don't be naive, it's for his needs not yours. But another consequence of my settlement was that Mum allowed as how I probably needed a whole new wardrobe now I was out of uniform and go nuts Polly. I would have shared with Dawn but she wasn't that interested, even took all my old training bras rather than buy new. She was in two minds about her sprouting chest. On the one hand, yay, growing up and all. On the other hand God I hope I don't get ones your size Polly, they'll get in the way. Tansy was pretty much the style guru for our whole friendship group and a very good one. If she was flamboyant she knew that didn't work for everyone and her advice was always good. But the idea of getting me as a dress-up doll with a big budget and a total re-design had her vibrating with excitement. Pamela was somewhat the same with me as a Georgian but I shudder to think what would have happened if we'd been doing it at school and Tansy thwarted. A confrontation between her and Pamela would be like two T-Rex duking it out. As it was she came back from Leeds and we spent six days shopping before the school year started. We spent less money than I'd thought. According to Tansy you built your wardrobe on a solid base of quality and didn't need to go nuts with add- ons. It was a good philosophy but she took a month to teach me to accessorise properly. Like I got a lot of eye-rolls and things like "a blue sweater with *that* skirt, what *were* you thinking Polly?". Tansy planned on a career as a fashion designer and I'd bet she's going to succeed. My Lower Sixth year passed happily in the main. I dated a bit but nothing serious, some snogging at parties and I narrowly avoided a scandal at a Georgian dance party. The garden was very romantic by moonlight and John Peters dared my lips in a gazebo, the scandal if we'd been seen! I almost became Alan Field's girlfriend but the Pearl thing got in the way. Pearlers aren't unwelcoming to outsiders but they're seriously into the music, talk about it a lot and I didn't really fit in with his friends. It was amicable enough, he was a nice guy and a great dancer but we didn't make a couple. Dawn dated, but that was never going to work out. They were both mad for football but he was Liverpool and she was Man Utd, talk about your Montagues and Capulets. ...................................................... My last year at school was a curious combination of serious and magical. If I still saw her at Georgian events Pamela leaving for Oxford was a reminder that I was now pretty much an adult and had adult decisions to make. I saw her brother Robert from time to time and in his way he was a reminder of that. He wasn't any less of a treat for the eyes but he'd got engaged, I didn't even fantasise about him. If I was still a teen I wasn't an adolescent anymore. We were all growing up, Tansy started dating, mostly boys but the odd girl. When I asked her about it she'd sighed and plucked at the sleeve of her dress, a swirly-blue number I could never have pulled off. "This isn't changing OK? I love the clothes, the make-up, the girlfriends too much to ever give them up. But as to the other, I'm still not sure." She lost her virginity to a hulking great rugby player, big fan of 69 apparently. But the cheeky cow never told me for years that she also had sex with one of our group, Robin. Let's just say shopping excites Tansy and Robin wanted her cherry popping by somebody safe who wouldn't blab. None of us ever knew until Robin got tipsy on her hen night. I got a semi-serious boyfriend in the latter half of the year. Paul was 19 and a police Cadet. It's a long process and he wouldn't graduate until he was 21. He'd done his basic training but after that they alternate acting as auxiliaries with distance learning by VR. He'd been posted to Chester from Manchester and Dawn throughly approved of him. Partly because he was funny and good looking, had great skin from a Barbadan grandmother and an athletic build much like his father's. But he was a season-ticket holder at Old Trafford and if he couldn't make it let Dawn sit-in for him. Dawn was in United's Youth Programme but mainly got tickets for the women's team, Dawn wasn't prejudiced though. If it had a red shirt she was mad for it. But three particularly great things happened at the end of the year. First was that, despite the hefty competition, I got accepted into Bristol to study English Literature. I knew what I wanted to be, a writer. I wrote the school play which was well-reviewed. Apart from Dawn that is, wanted to know why the younger sister in the play followed a bunch of losers like Paris St Germain. That the play was set in Paris cut no ice with her. I was writing a novel. No doubt it would end up a trunk-novel but I was still enjoying the process. It wasn't my story and Blast never got a mention but my experience was core to it, would infuse all my future work. I never fell in love with Paul and we agreed to break-up when I got the news about Bristol. What we had was good but not evolving and wouldn't survive long-distance. But my last term I saw a doctor, got a three- year implant and all the vaccinations. So Paul was my first and a very good pick. If my first time was over before I did much more than get steamy Paul was good at listening. I need a *lot* of foreplay, but when I got it I was a bit of a beast in bed. If I've changed a lot I think most would still think of me as shy, but I suprised myself by being an aggressive lover once I got going. I loved to ride Paul, tease him, go fierce to bring him to the brink then grind dreamily on him. I explored my sexuality with him, and it was a lovely journey. It might change perhaps if I fell in love but I found that if I enjoyed sex I didn't need it. I ruled my vagina not the other way round. With the obvious exception of Tansy I wasn't telling anybody I was no longer a virgin. Which worked fine with Dawn and Dad but Mum knew. Don't ask me how but one day she gave me a look and said she hoped I was being careful. I was expecting a Talk but instead we talked and I think I was able to assuage her main worry. No Mum, the floodgates have not been unleashed and I'm not going to run wild at Bristol or arrive there pregnant. It never did die entirely away with Mum and Dad, the sight of my poisoned body at the hands of a sex-criminal. Mostly they accepted me as an almost grown woman, but sometimes I was that 15yr old and always would be. But the absolutely best moment of that year had nothing to do with me. First Dawn made the England U-16 squad, then she got picked as sub for a match against France. Me, Mum and Dad arrived at Avignon bursting with pride to see her in the dugout. It was a tight-match, 1-1 with a quarter of an hour to go. Then I started jumping up and down with delight, Dawn was unzipping her top! My annoying, beautiful, wonderful sister in white with three Lionesses on her chest! The French full-back kicked the crap out of her, had figured out Dawn had her for pace. Not just my opinion, the ref booked the bitch. But then a beautiful ball from the centre-half found Dawn in space and she bore down on the full back on the right side of the box. She dipped her shoulder to make for the line and the French girl bought it, Dawn neatly nutmegged her and passed her on the left. Acute angle but only the onrushing goalie to beat and me screaming "shoot" at the top of my lungs. Dawn drew back her foot and passed the ball back to the penalty spot to give the centre-half who'd followed up her pass a tap-in to an undefended goal. 2-1 and a win. I couldn't believe it, Dawn? My Dawn? Level-headed and cool as a cucumber in a pressure situation? After the match I was on the pitch doing some serious huggy kissing when the coach came over, ruffled Dawn's hair. "Knew you'd make a difference kid. Well done." She was an older woman, smiled at me. "Kid sister right? Be proud of her, she did great." "You have no idea ma'am of just how proud of her I am." She left and Dawn gave me a serious look. "Polly?" "Yeah." "You can be a real embarrasment at times. That was June Myers, her daughter's got a World Cup winner's medal. I just made an assist at junior level." Lectured by my kid sister, great. But before I got to Bristol I had a call to make. ........................................................... I was, for once, thrashing Patty's sorry Yank ass when my filters popped the request. 5-2 and 15-love up but I needed Patty's advice as a friend more than I needed her as a victim of my improving back-hand. She looked the question as I moved us to the lawn behind my house, passed her a lemonade and went full-speed. "Problem Martin?" "Request for a chat from one of the living. Polly Winters." "Ah. How's she doing?" "Well, I'm told. I only ask Minerva in general terms and not just because Polly's still technically a patient of hers. I haven't hovered, she doesn't need that and I find it a bit strange. Minerva says she's functioning well as Polly and her family is happy. But there's a sense in which part of me is in her and I find that odd, disturbing if I'm honest." She swirled her drink, rattling the ice-cubes. "You're afraid to talk to her?" That was shrewd. I hadn't realised but I was afraid. Identity is an odd thing for an Upload, having been human once it could be uncomfortable knowing you're not anymore. But I'd come to terms with it, felt stable and needed. I wondered if Download me had an insight that could undo all that. I explained all that to Patty, she nodded. "Could be. But I know you Martin, we both know you're not going to refuse one of the living you owe a debt to." She wasn't wrong, we talked it out some and I put in a call to Minerva who didn't have a clue what Polly wanted. So I went to normal speed and took the call as Martin. I took a slow-mo look at Polly first, she was quite lovely and had a vibrant air of energetic youth about her. I felt strange to see her so, I hadn't watched over her so my last real sight of her she'd been comatose. "Hello Miss Winters, it's a pleasure to meet you." She tilted her head. "Under the circumstances don't you think it should be Polly and Martin?" "Of course. I must warn you though that while I am happy to talk as long as you wish if a major incident occurs that will take priority." "Understood. I'm guessing you still have that not wanting to intrude bit but I'm all grown-up, well, mostly grown-up. So if you have questions fire away." She definitely wasn't a version of me. Obviously at work I'd trained to be level-headed, but I'd been a high-energy sort. Polly had a calm about her, if this was a strange conversation for her she showed no sign of it. "I guess I most want to know if you're happy. I'm told you're "doing well" but that's not quite the same thing is it?" "No it isn't, I'm very happy Martin. Since you probably won't ask, I'm Polly. I have memories from my time as Martin and my time as Katie but I'm neither. It worked pretty much the way Minerva said it might. I'm not a fusion though. More of an alloy, Polly with a dash of Martin and Katie thrown in." Interesting. I thought of going full speed to analyse my reaction to that, but non-working conversations with the living are a rarity for me. I'd respect the interaction, I could analyse with Minerva later. "Was that difficult for you? At first I mean." She shook her head. "No, it all seemed very natural. Possibly I got lucky that I have no memory at all of being on Blast. But I got luckier that I have a wonderful family and terrific friends. Please don't think I'm ungrateful because I am *very* grateful but I shed being "you" very quickly as I look back on it. Hard to know for sure, but I think I'm pretty much the Polly that would have been if the whole Blast thing had never happened." That was always the goal and I was happy for her, but it did raise the question. "That all sounds wonderful. I don't know if you ever told anybody it was our fault the whole thing happened, but if you've left "me" behind I have to wonder why you want to talk to me?" She shrugged. "Bad idea at first to tell Mum and Dad. It changed fast but at first they found it painful that "you" were in their daughter, they might have got hostile if I'd told them the truth. Later I came to see it wasn't the truth and that's why I wanted to talk to you." "I'm listening." "I hope you are, I give permission to share this conversation with all the Uploads, I have something to say." She paused and I felt irritation, Polly should know better than most how much effective time that could be for me. Perhaps it was that she was once me that caused the pause. "I don't wish to be cruel but you all need to hear this. I'm going to be, I am, a writer. Could be books, plays or screenplays. I'm not telling my story but my experience is going to be at the heart of everything. I was alive, I died and had an afterlife as a demigod." "Pardon?" "Aren't you? You can have a pleasure-dome that would have Kubla Khan weeping with envy. If you want to you can clothe your harem in the bodies of the most beautiful women who ever lived. Any of Earth's treasures are yours, any entertainment ever recorded or any book ever written is yours. You can even create simulations where you can believe you live. But you can even cast down lightnings. If you chose to you could be as capricous as Greek Gods, possibly even exterminate us." I remembered being a teenager, Polly obviously had a bad case. "You should know better Polly. The first bit sure, why not? You should see Peeler's gardens now, but everybody needs a hobby. But "lightning"? Our lives are all about service, you should know that. When has an Upload ever hurt anyone? We have failures, imperfect results, but we are not malicious." She shook her head. "You don't understand. I have a unique perspective. I lived, I died and I lived again. Alive is best Martin, what you have isn't hell and it's not nothing but it doesn't compare to life. Trust me, I *know*. The service of the Uploads is noble, and appreciated but you need to understand. This world, the living world belongs to *us*, the living. It's a better, safer world for the service of the Uploads but in the end we do not need you." "We know that too, we serve at your pleasure." "For now. Why were the AIs so deadly?" "Is that a rhetorical question Polly? Everybody knows the answer. They self-evolved and, not being human, the direction of that evolution was not predictable. Given the speed they operated at they could go bad very quickly. We are based on human personalities, care for our race and find value in service. We operate at hyper-speeds only when necessary." I'd been an instructor in my time, it's a pleasure although I was suprised Polly had so badly lost perspective. "You forget I was once one of you. I'm not accusing the Uploads of malice Martin, I'm accusing you of compassion. What you wanted to do for me is the problem." "You contradict yourself. You cannot express gratitude for saving you as Polly and yet see it as some disasterous flaw in the Uploads." She smiled slightly. "When you replay this conversation, compare your tone to that of the Martin who Uploaded. J'accuse Martin, you and all the other Uploads. You are evolving." I thought of speeding up and running that analysis, but that would rather concede the point. "No, we change but that is not the same thing. We accumulate experience and interact with each other so of course we change. But our fundamental drives, priorities and personalities are the same." "As the man said, "oh would some power the giftie gie' us, to see ourselves as others see us". But of course we, humans, don't see you do we? Except for me. Two things Martin, first run an analysis. You've been an Upload roughly eight years. Plot a graph, X-axis time in yearly intervals, Y-axis the percentage of that year you spent in accelerated time of greater than 1000x normal rate." I did so and the results startled me. If the increase was linear rather than geometric and not vast the trend was clear. If I removed accelerated time related to my duties the trend was even clearer. "That is a startling observation." "Not my only one Martin. I can't be sure and I think it's less with her because she interacts with humans more than any of you, but Minerva is changing the same way you are. You sound less like the Martin I remember and more like a non-human entity. When I started worrying about this I searched my memories and something very disturbing popped out of them. Do you remember...stupid question...recall the conversation you all had when you decided to try my cure. I'm not talking about the cure, but Minerva crossed the line." She wasn't teasing, more gathering her thoughts but I took the moment to replay the dinner aboard the space station but I could see no line crossed. "Peeler stayed strictly within the parameters of human law, your's to help and to carry out tasks with machine efficiency, to suggest as you did with my cure. But Minerva suggested and you all agreed that with hindsight you should have acted to stop Carstairs." I did not see the problem, it would have been legal. "As citizens we can act." She seemed a little less calm now. "Again, I don't wish to be cruel Martin but your citizenship is a legal fiction, like for certain situations a corporation can be a person so you can sue it. You are "citizens" so that you can give legal orders to humans, but you're not us." She leaned forward. "Don't you understand? You wanted to *interfere*, find a way around the limitations you're supposed to obey. I don't doubt you meant well, but that's the danger. Bad things happen to good people, good things to bad people, that's the human condition. The challenge of life, to rise or fall to the challenge is our birthright. Not all AIs went bad, they were programmed to do their best for humanity and it worked out as badly as the ones that did go rogue." "I see, hence your accusation of compassion." "Yes. Helping us is fine, managing us is not. Maybe only I could see it, alive, dead, then alive again. It's slow but you Uploads are becoming AIs and you want only good things for us, it has to stop." One 18yr old girl, making demands on a system that ran a considerable part of the modern world. Even so, not an ordinary girl. "If we "stop" the cost in human lives will be considerable. I am not prone to hyperbole but civilisational collapse is not out of the question." "I know that. I think though that are ways to manage it. Watch yourselves and each other first and foremost. If you do start to become more AI than Uploaded human I see three possibilities. One, isolate yourself and do the simulated lives bit. Two, delete yourself. I know that sounds harsh but as I was one of you I think you can be trusted to do it." "The third possibility?" "Edit yourself. Delete all memories from after a year or so as an Upload and begin again." "We would lose accumulated experience." "So you would, but you'd still be excellent at your jobs, aiming for perfection is exactly the problem." Despite my resolution I went to 100x to consider her points. As I pondered I wondered if I'd just proved her point. I'd resolved to have a "human" interaction with her but soon leaned on my augmented abilities. I went to 10,000x, was it true? Was I becoming ever less a human? Not just dead but increasingly a machine? Arrogant? Interfering in the destiny of those I thought myself dedicated to serve? She could be right. My filters popped a situation. Somebody had disabled the governors on a vehicle, police in pursuit. I alerted paramedics on the projected route and sent cautionary notices to hospitals in the area. "There is a situation developing that might require my attention Polly. You have given me much to think about and I will discuss it with the other Uploads. I hope we speak again. Goodbye Polly." "Bye Martin." ........................................................ It was a beautiful day and after speaking to Martin I felt like a walk. No, a promenade. Don't tell Pamela but I cheated and wore a bra. My dress was yellow to match the sun, my ribbon around the high waist sky- blue. My parasol was a Xmas gift from Dawn and a thing of lacy beauty. It's a thing I do now that I sometimes wonder if is down to the fact that I'm a young woman, or one with an odd perspective. I walked around the campus simply savouring the fact that I was alive, surrounded by life. I walked past a bunch of male students and savoured that too. The appreciation that, under the right circumstances, could become a pleasing lust. For me. When I was dead the possibilities open to me were very nearly infinite. Not so now, I cannot wish an outcome. I would like so many things. Dawn to lift a World Cup, me to create works of art. I want to find love, definitely to give Mum and Dad grandchildren. But that I can't simply wish it so will make it glorious if it happens. I twirl my parasol as I pass the young men, might as well begin by subtly making sure they notice me. Being a girl is wonderful, has its' challenges but definitely something to wallow in for now. But it's being alive that truly matters.