The next morning the sun came up as it always did, there were just fewer people alive to enjoy it. I lay in bed thinking about the part I might have played in the two dozen or more deaths that happened over the last few days.

But instead of guilt or shame I felt… nothing. There was no ghost haunting me, no cold sweat, no remorse. It was simply another day.

As I dug deeper into my feelings in the matter, or lack thereof, I realized something. I hadn't killed anyone and they had all been trying to abduct or kill me. Maybe they were bad people, at the best they may have been misguided. But it wasn't like I was mowing down random strangers with a chainsaw.

These were enemies, people who chose to come after me. My security had been doing their job. I could go back and forth on whether my life was worth more than theirs, but I hadn't forced the issue. They had been the ones who came after me.

Was this… normal? Was feeling happy to be alive normal? Had I mistaken my surprise at seeing violence first hand for disgust? Had my outrage been more about my own fear of being judged? Or was I somehow adapting? Was this my wetware leveling me out like Gershwin talked about when he took me over?

Then of course there was Gershwin. Ever since I first learned about the genocidal bastard I had been fascinated and disgusted by him. Now he was living in my head rent free. I understood the mechanism preventing me from rejecting the graft, as well as why it was in place and what would happen if I disabled it.

I knew that having Gershwin in my head was a bad thing, much the same way a smoker or an alcoholic knows that their vice is slowly killing them. I understood that each time my eyes flashed yellow I was strengthening the bond between us, reinforcing a nasty habit that would eventually have to be broken. But so far, nothing bad had actually happened.

The same way nothing came of those katzen that were killed by my security. My whole life I had lived as an outsider, a human in a world not meant for my kind, never quite comfortable in my own skin. I had been walking on eggshells, afraid of being rejected or ostracized, afraid to be labeled a monster.

Had I been acting this whole time? No, not acting. I had been hiding, making myself small and inoffensive. It was like the violence of the last few days had shaken me awake. It had gotten me so far out of my comfort zone that when I looked back I could see my life as it really was.

I wasn't a killer, nor would I ever be. That wasn't for me, that wasn't what I wanted. But I understood now that the people around me wouldn't cast me aside if I was less than perfect. I owed Rook an apology. I had been an entitled little shit.

I sat up and looked over at the window. The white cotton blinds were closed and the ballistic glass would prevent anyone from taking a shot at me. I used to be annoyed by how thick and heavy the windows in the villa were. But now I understood and appreciated their utility.

I stepped into my fuzzy white rabbit slippers and walked naked across the brown tile floor over to my bathroom. My reflection greeted me, the same as always. I saw a woman in her early twenties with a wiry build and long legs, but none of the curves that would have come from lifting or dancing. No useful muscles, just a lack of fat. It was a physique that was the result of a lack of bad habits instead of an intentional application of good ones. How fitting.

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One thing that was strange was my hair. It was a full centimeter longer than when I went to bed, and instead of a soft chestnut brown it was coming out jet black. What could be causing that? I wondered.

My eyes flickered yellow like an old neon sign above a dive bar coming on. Oh, yes. I understood now. Gershwin had unlocked my metabolism and healing factor. I looked down at my nails. They were longer and almost clear like glass. They had been shaped down to soft points too. Experimentally I tried to bend one but it didn't even flex.

I reached for the nail clippers and watched as they failed to even crack this hard new substance. Had my wetware made changes while I was sleeping? My eyes flashed yellow. Yes, it had. I was undergoing a metamorphosis, becoming something different.

I couldn’t quite put a finger on what was wrong. But I knew in my bones this wasn't what was supposed to happen when my demi-human traits activated. It was like hearing a new song played off key. I didn't know what to expect, but it wasn't this.

I felt good but almost numb. The little aches and pains I had grown to know and expect were all gone, replaced with an almost void-like sense of emptiness. I inhaled deeply through my nose and a laundry list of scents came to me, all clearly defined and cataloged. But it was more than that because I could also tell how old the scents were.

The bubblegum bubble bath of my youth was hiding behind the mint shampoo of my teenage years and the citrus honey body wash of today. It was amazing how much I could tell just by smelling. Was this what it was like for Simon all the time? I never knew how much of the world I had been missing!

Aunt Nemeria was augmented and incredibly strong. But I couldn't imagine she had a sense of smell like this. In fact, I knew she didn't. So whatever was happening to me wasn't just a normal demi-human thing. I was different, but why?

My eyes flickered as I pulled information from Gershwin. My wetware was hybridized, containing a mix of hund and human nano machines. I must have gotten some warhund traits to go along with the ones I inherited from my mother. But how?

I decided that if I was going to be thinking these kinds of thoughts I should at least have some hot water running down my back. Or better yet, I could draw myself a warm bath. How long had it been since I treated myself to a nice long soak?

Epsom salts, essential oils, and a foaming citrus soap all went into the bathtub as it filled with hot water. I read once that you knew you had made it in the world when you could afford a bathtub that let you get your knees and tits underwater at the same time.

Simon got this particular one custom built because I was taller than most non-augmented hunds or katzen and both species tended to prefer dry shampoos or showers anyway. But it was a lovely thing, all white marble and polished brass fixtures with enough room to technically qualify as a hot tub.

I always felt guilty for wasting that much water but the knowledge that most of it was recycled for the garden eased the sting somewhat. That and the massaging jets which had helped in some of my first explorations of what I later would learn was called self pleasure.

Being one of the few humans left on Homeworld meant I wasn't exactly experienced with romance or sex. I wasn't attracted to other species and most of the humans I met were at least twice my age. So the dating pool was more of a half dried up puddle. Plus, I was getting really tired of being told I needed to help repopulate the human race.

So, rather than deal with all that I had learned to take the occasional long bath or shower and bring a toy in with me. Vika said I needed to find a man. I told her that when they invented one with five speeds that was dishwasher safe I would consider making the switch.