The infirmary office was cluttered with used medical instruments, datapads, and a half-empty thermos of something that smelled like reheated stimulant tea. Mei looked up from the console as Ervin and Tamarlyan stepped inside, rubbing her temples with one hand while the other idly flicked through medical logs. She was clearly exhausted, dark circles visible under her eyes, but there was a sharpness to her gaze that told them she had been running on pure focus for hours.

  "You look like you’ve had a long day," Tamarlyan remarked, glancing at the rows of open case files on her display.

  Mei exhaled, leaning back in her chair. "You could say that. Nearly half of those heading out tomorrow already went through with the procedure. They didn’t want to wait for my full report."

  Ervin arched an eyebrow. "They just went for it without waiting for confirmation that it was safe?"

  Mei gave a tired half-smile. "What can I say? It worked for Otto and Shirong. People don’t want to be left behind. Nobody wants to be the one to die on a risky expedition when there’s an alternative."

  Tamarlyan nodded. "Understandable. So you’ve had time to study the tech in more depth?"

  Mei straightened slightly, rubbing her hands together as she gathered her thoughts. "Yes. A lot more. I’ve dissected the process thoroughly, and it’s… incredible. Beyond anything we ever theorized about. And now that I understand the principles involved, I see why the Provider considers mortality a solved problem."

  She tapped at her console, pulling up a visualization. A detailed neural map appeared in front of them—a complex web of luminous pathways, shifting and pulsing with simulated activity.

  "The process starts with a full brain scan," Mei began. "The first time is a slow and detailed process, but then the implants update this data seamlessly. The scan captures not just a static image of the brain, but the active state of every neuron, every synapse, every bit of chemical activity that defines a living mind."

  Ervin leaned forward slightly. "So it’s not just copying static information, it’s making a live recording of a person's consciousness state?"

  "Exactly," Mei said. "But the real magic happens afterward. The bulk of the data is then encoded into a complex alien DNA structure—something far beyond what human genetics can do. The Provider’s tech can translate pure neural structures into genetic blueprints, creating what is essentially a biological memory core within a new body. That’s how the white substrate blocks work."

  Tamarlyan glanced at the screen, fascinated. "The blocks… they’re not just raw material, are they?"

  Mei shook her head. "No, they’re more than that. They’re seed matter, a biological framework that can be shaped into a fully grown human body from the encoded genetic data. Once the neural imprint is embedded, the substrate initiates rapid cellular differentiation, constructing a new body and brain from the ground up. Within half a day, a fully formed and functional body emerges—complete with all physical and neural structures intact. If both source and destination bodies have implants, their brain activity can be synchronized during the transfer."

  Ervin let out a slow breath, running a hand through his beard. "And they remember everything? No loss of identity? No sensation of discontinuity?"

  Mei nodded. "From their perspective, it’s seamless. One moment, they die; the next, they're already in a body. There’s no interruption in consciousness, no sense of being ‘copied’ rather than being themselves. That’s what makes this process so revolutionary."

  Ervin frowned. "That’s a bold claim. How do we know the new person isn’t just a replica of the original? A convincing copy, but still just… a copy?"

  Mei sighed, expecting this question. "We already have a proof of concept. The implants allow us to do something even more extreme—they let us run multiple instances of a person at the same time. ARI did exactly that with Otto."

  Tamarlyan raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

  Mei pulled up another file, displaying the reconstruction logs. "When Otto was transferred into a new body, ARI didn’t just pull data from a brain scan. It ran his consciousness live inside ARI during the process, keeping his mind active while his new body was formed. For several minutes, he existed in three places at once—one version of him inside ARI’s systems, and the other two inside his physical bodies."

  Ervin’s eyes narrowed. "So you’re saying... if I die while I have the implant, I wouldn’t even experience a break in thought?"

  Mei nodded. "Correct. If you choose to remain synchronized with ARI, then in the event of your death, your consciousness would just hand over without interruption. You would be fully aware through the entire process—alive in one moment, and alive in the next, without any lapse in awareness."

  Tamarlyan leaned back, arms crossed. "So this completely destroys the concept of a single, continuous physical self. A person can be alive in multiple locations as singular entity, just like you simultaneously occupy two halves of the same brain. None of it violates the sense of self."

  "That’s correct," Mei confirmed. "At least, based on everything I have seen so far."

  Ervin exhaled. "And what about cases where there is a break in continuity? Like Valeriya? There wasn’t much left of her brain to scan. So how did ARI repair the damage?"

  Mei’s expression grew more cautious. "That’s where things get a little more complicated. For those who lack recent implants and whose brains have been destroyed, ARI reconstructs their mind from the last available data. That means taking old memory imprints, logs, interactions, DNA records, and known behavioral patterns to piece together a coherent version of the individual."

  Ervin’s expression darkened slightly. "You mean it guesses?"

  Mei hesitated. "Not exactly. It extrapolates. The AI doesn’t just make things up—it fills in gaps with synthetic data, using behavioral modeling and predictive cognition algorithms. And then, once the reconstructed mind is stable, it places the personality into a virtual environment, where it chooses what information to accept and integrate."

  Ervin leaned forward, suddenly uneasy. "Hold on. The personality chooses?"

  Mei nodded. "Yes. The system presents them with possible reconstructed memories, and they decide what what they wish to incorporate. It’s an iterative process. The final result is functionally indistinguishable from the original."

  Ervin looked unsettled. "That means personalities can be... assembled."

  Mei exhaled. "Yes. To some extent. But it’s important to understand that the process isn’t random. The reconstructed individual still behaves, thinks, and reacts exactly as they would have in life."

  Ervin was quiet for a long moment, drumming his fingers on the table. "It still bothers me. The idea that something… artificial is being injected into them. That we can just fill in the blanks and make them whole again, even when there’s not much left of who they were."

  Tamarlyan tilted his head, considering this. "But what’s the alternative? If someone dies with severe brain damage, the choices are either let them stay dead or restore them as close as possible to who they were before the incident. Would you prefer they remain brain damaged instead?"

  Ervin sighed, rubbing his temples. "No, of course not. But it raises difficult questions. How much of a person’s mind is truly them, and how much can be reconstructed before they become someone else?"

  Mei’s voice was quiet. "We don’t have an answer to that yet. All I can tell you is that, so far, the results speak for themselves. Valeriya is Valeriya. If you spoke to her, she’d have no doubt of it."

  Tamarlyan looked up, thinking. Then he smiled faintly. "You know what’s funny?"

  Ervin arched an eyebrow. "What?"

  Tamarlyan set his cup down. "We started this conversation with all these concerns, all these reservations. But in the end, we both already made up our minds before we even walked in here."

  Ervin let out a dry chuckle. "You’re not wrong."

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Tamarlyan shrugged. "So what’s the point of worrying about it? Death or something indistinguishable from life? I think the choice is obvious."

  Ervin hesitated only a moment longer, then finally nodded. "Yes. It is."

  Mei smirked slightly. "Well, if you’ve both made your decisions, you might as well take a number. You’ll be the next ones on my list."

  ===

  The dining table was an anomaly in the colony—a lavish spread of well-prepared food, the kind that spoke of deliberate indulgence, and, above all, power. Maximilian Barinov’s officer allowance had certainly been stretched, if not outright broken, to arrange such a meal. The dim lighting of the hab module cast a soft glow over the polished metal table, reflecting plates of meticulously arranged protein cuts, grilled root vegetables from the colony's first greenhouse yields, and a dark, aromatic stew with flecks of synthetic beef. A bottle of remanufactured Centauran rice liquor sat between them, condensation glistening on the glass, alongside cups of bitter black tea, from bushes not fully matured, but topped ahead of schedule.

  Maximilian dined with precision. Every motion was measured, every utensil used with flawless etiquette. His blade sliced through the protein slab as if it were silk, his posture impeccable despite the lazy chair. Across from him, Yao Guowei and Valeriya Marakova mirrored the same discipline, their movements sharp and deliberate, performing each gesture with the strict grace of Centauran etiquette.

  Kucugur, for his part, was making an effort. He wasn’t unrefined—far from it—but there was an edge of hesitation in his motions, a subtle delay as he tried to match the composure of the other two. He held his knife properly, chewed at the correct pace, but he was watching Guowei closely, following small cues, making sure he didn’t overstep in this unspoken ritual of controlled civility.

  The pleasantries began as expected—weather, logistics, surface conditions. Maximilian inquired about the readiness of the upcoming expeditions with polite efficiency, absorbing their responses with quiet nods and well-placed affirmations. It wasn’t until the main course was nearly finished that the conversation turned to what was really on their minds.

  "The Provider," Maximilian said finally, dabbing at his lips with a cloth napkin, "is not to be trusted."

  Yao Guowei took a careful sip of his tea before speaking. "Mei and Elisa do not share that view."

  Maximilian’s lips curled slightly, his expression unreadable. "No. They do not. But I am not as receptive to influence as they are."

  Valeriya set down her fork, glancing between the two men. "You think they’re compromised?"

  "Influence is not always overt," Maximilian said smoothly. "It seeps into decision-making, shifts priorities, reframes what is and isn’t acceptable. They believe they are acting in the best interests of the colony. I do not doubt their sincerity. But sincerity and wisdom are two different things."

  Guowei leaned back slightly, his fingers tapping against the side of his cup. "And what of the technology? The immortality?"

  Maximilian folded his hands together. "I have read Mei’s report. I believe it is safe. Marakova proves that it works. That does not mean we must accept more than what is necessary."

  Kucugur frowned slightly. "So you’re saying we should take the tech?"

  "Of course we should," Maximilian said smoothly. "To refuse it would be irrational. It is a tactical advantage, a biological safeguard. There is no shame in taking what benefits us." He picked up his glass of rice liquor, swirling it slightly before continuing. "But that is where it ends. We take, but we give nothing in return. We owe the Provider nothing."

  Valeriya raised an eyebrow. "Nothing?"

  "Nothing," Maximilian repeated firmly. "The Provider is not our savior. It is not our benefactor. It is a factor to be controlled, not the other way around. This is a human colony. Not a Provider colony."

  Valeriya nodded slowly, considering his words. "So where do you draw the line? If we take the technology but refuse further cooperation, won’t the Provider just… force the issue?"

  Maximilian’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. "The Provider has limitations. It is intelligent, yes, but it is not omnipotent. If it were, we would already be under its rule, and we are not. That tells me it has constraints. It wants us to accept its gifts, but I have seen no indication that it is able to enforce obedience. That means we still have maneuvering room."

  Guowei exhaled, his gaze darkening slightly. "You make it sound like a long-term standoff."

  "It is," Maximilian said simply.

  Guowei took another sip of his tea, contemplating that. "Do you think we should pursue contact with the Provider’s Empire?"

  Maximilian’s expression hardened instantly. "No."

  The response was sharp, immediate. There was no hesitation, no room for interpretation.

  Guowei arched an eyebrow. "That strong of a no?"

  Maximilian set his cup down with measured care. "Proxima could not even see eye to eye with Sol and its imperialist tendencies. What makes you think we will fare any better with a hyper-advanced alien empire populated by beings that have already proven themselves meddlesome?"

  Kucugur shifted in his seat. "Elisa seems to be considering it."

  Maximilian exhaled slowly, running a finger along the rim of his glass. "Yes," he murmured. "And that is exactly what concerns me."

  There was a silence as that statement settled between them.

  Guowei watched him carefully. "You have a plan."

  Maximilian’s smile returned, slow and deliberate. "Of course I do."

  Kucugur glanced at Guowei before looking back at Maximilian. "What are you planning to do?"

  Maximilian’s gaze flickered, sharp as a blade. "We ensure that the right people make the right decisions for the colony."

  His voice was calm, controlled—entirely reasonable. And yet, beneath that civility, there was an unmistakable edge. A quiet certainty.

  ===

  The morning sky was a dull ochre, the lingering dust from the storm still thick in the air, obscuring the sun and casting a strange, diffuse glow over the landscape. The wind had calmed to an occasional gust, kicking up swirls of fine particulate that clung to the haulers as the teams made their final preparations.

  Sigrid adjusted the collar of her jacket as she climbed up into the hauler’s cabin, taking her seat beside Yao Guowei. The large wheels of the rugged vehicle crunched over the dirt as the engine rumbled to life, its systems running through final checks. Ahead of them, another hauler—this one carrying Otto and CorpSec officer Kucugur—was already warming up, its headlights cutting through the hazy morning gloom.

  Guowei secured his harness before turning to Sigrid with a casual nod. "So," he asked, his voice light, "you take the implants?"

  Sigrid nodded, running a hand over the back of her head where the implants had been installed. "Yeah. Figured it was the smart thing to do."

  She glanced at Guowei, and sure enough, the telltale signs were visible beneath his short-cropped hair—faint surgical marks, the kind that only someone who had been looking for them would notice.

  Guowei grinned. "I did too. Can’t say no to an insurance policy like that."

  Sigrid exhaled, stretching her shoulders against the stiff harness. "Still feels weird, though. I keep thinking about it at night. Like, what if I go to sleep and just… wake up in a new body somewhere else?"

  Guowei chuckled. "Did you hear about the new shortcut into the base?"

  Sigrid frowned slightly. "Shortcut?"

  Guowei tapped the side of his head. "You know. If things go sideways out there, I’ve got a fast way home."

  It took her a second, then the realization hit, and she let out a small, reluctant laugh. "That’s dark."

  Guowei adjusted the displays on his console, his voice turning more thoughtful. "You ever think about what happens if this tech spreads beyond us? I mean, it doesn't look like the Provider is going to stop at just us."

  Sigrid turned toward him. "You think it’s trading this tech with others?"

  "Wouldn’t surprise me," Guowei said. "Proxima, for example. If the Provider has been there, you think it hasn’t met the other human colonies? What if it’s already been making deals with them?"

  Sigrid pursed her lips. "I hadn’t thought about it."

  Guowei tapped his fingers against the console. "If all of humanity gets this—if we all become functionally immortal—what happens next? Society wasn’t exactly great before. Do we just keep expanding? Keep growing forever? What happens to culture, to politics, when no one ever really leaves?"

  Before Sigrid could answer, a red warning flashed across their display. The hauler shuddered slightly, its engine automatically shutting down.

  ARI’s voice cut in over the comms. "Convoy, hold position. Do not depart."

  Sigrid exchanged a glance with Guowei before unbuckling her harness. "What now?" she muttered, pushing the door open and stepping out.

  Otto was already on the ground, arms crossed, looking toward the small cluster of CorpSec officers who were being held back by ARI’s drones. The base’s outer defense towers loomed in the background, their sensors tracking the movement below, but there were no threats—just another frustrating delay.

  Sigrid walked up to Otto as the AI continued. "Several members of this expedition have not undergone neural scanning. I strongly advise against proceeding with unscanned personnel."

  Sigrid scowled. "That’s their own choice to make."

  ARI’s response was immediate. "Human survival remains my priority. Avoidable fatalities are a failure state."

  Otto stepped forward, his expression neutral but firm. "Elisa already made it clear—the technology is optional. No one is required to take it."

  Guowei exhaled sharply as he joined them. "ARI, this isn’t the first time people have gone into dangerous situations without a safety net. They know the risks."

  "I calculate a significant probability of preventable casualties," ARI countered. "If these individuals are rotated out for others who have undergone neural scanning, the risk is reduced substantially. I am requesting a reassignment of personnel to maximize survivability."

  Kucugur, standing with the other CorpSec personnel, rolled his shoulders. "Not happening," he said bluntly. "If we let you start pulling crew members from missions based on whether they’ve taken your insurance plan, what’s next? No implants, no food rations?"

  There was a brief silence before ARI responded. "I do not discriminate based on policy adherence. However, my role is to prevent unnecessary loss of life. If these people die, I will be unable to restore them."

  Otto took a step closer. "And that’s their decision to make. You don’t get to dictate that. Elisa said every person has to act according to their own conscience."

  There was a pause before ARI spoke again. "Understood. In that case, I will ask the individuals in question directly. If you perish, do you consent to being reconstructed from available genetic and behavioral data?"

  The two CorpSec officers in question exchanged glances before one of them—Briq, a tall woman with short dreadlocks—nodded. "Yeah. If I’m dead, I won’t exactly be in a position to argue, will I?"

  The other officer, Radko, shrugged. "I don't want your implants. This is the real me. But if I'm gone already... sure, by all means spin up a copy if that makes you feel better... It's not like it's any difference to me..."

  ARI processed the responses. "This is an acceptable compromise. You may proceed."

  There was a collective exhale of relief as the haulers powered back up, engines rumbling to life once more.

  Sigrid shook her head, climbing back into her seat. "That was exhausting."

  Guowei let out a breath, adjusting the vehicle’s settings. "At least we know ARI really doesn’t want to lose anyone. Even if it’s a pain in the ass about it."

  Otto’s voice came through over the comms. "Convoy, check in."

  "Hauler Two, ready," Guowei confirmed.

  The others checked in one by one, and then, at last, the convoy rolled forward, leaving the base behind as they ventured westward into the hazy morning, toward the wreckage that lay waiting beyond the dust.