I wasn't sure what I expected when the light hit me. I suspected I would once again find myself inside my physical body in that white room, and while I was indeed in that room, I wasn't within my body. Or at least, I assumed that the skeletal looking figure laying in that hospital bed was my physical form, it did somewhat resemble me, albeit a human version of me.

So, this is how people look after months in stasis.

I stared at the frail figure on the bed, noting the gaunt, sunken cheeks, and the thin arms. The woman was wearing a plain hospital gown, and her hair, which was a less vibrant shade of red than mine, had been shorn close to her head. I was pretty sure that she was me, or at least my physical body. I could feel the connection, but it was strange seeing myself like this.

There were machines hooked up to the body, monitors displaying vitals, and various fluids running into the woman's body via an IV drip. It was odd, being here and yet not here. "You've been through a lot, haven't you?" I murmured, reaching out to brush my fingers against the woman's hand. My fingers passed over her skin, causing them to ripple slightly. "I am sorry," I whispered, feeling my heart ache.

It was not a physical heart, not really. This form, while somewhat corporeal, was not a real body. It was a projection, an image. And yet, despite the fact that this wasn't my physical body, I felt more connected to it than the body laying in that bed.

"Bit odd seeing yourself like this, isn't it?" Aither's voice echoed through the room, though a quick look around showed that the god wasn't present.

"Yes," I replied, not taking my eyes off the woman's face. It was hard to connect her with me, with the person I knew myself to be.

"Do you want to go back in?"

I hesitated. Did I? "Is it wrong that I want to stay here, instead of going back into my body?"

"No," he said, "if anything, it might make this easier."

"Make what easier?"

There was a brief pause.

"You want the sugar coated version, or the blunt, truthful one?"

"I would rather have the truth than lies, no matter how much it might hurt. The truth, while difficult to swallow, is easier than trying to make sense of the lies and half-truths."

"Very well," Aither said. There was another brief pause. "Yesterday's incident was not a result of your overloading the external processing unit as I first thought. It was deliberate sabotage."

"Sabotage," I repeated, turning back to look at my body. "So, someone attempted to kill me?" He did say my brain was almost fried, didn't he?

"Not necessarily kill," the voice corrected, "but yes, someone attempted to harm you."

"If not kill, then what were their intentions?"

"It isn't your physical body that they were targeting," the god explained. "It was your consciousness."

"Ah," I gave a small nod. "Yes, I suppose that would be the logical course of action, wouldn't it? Based on what you said about Everlife and their connections, along with what I know of my father, it stands to reason that they would wish to silence me and prevent me from revealing any potentially damaging information."

"And do you have any information which might damage their interests?"

"That is the question, isn't it? And the answer is, perhaps." I gave a shrug, doing my best to seem unconcerned. It was a struggle, not to show any emotions, and it was hard to keep my more animalistic features from giving me away. I could control my expression and the tone of my voice, but my tails and ears would always give me away. All the training I'd endured as a child to portray the perfect mask of calm and detachment... foiled by a pair of fluffy tails.

"Perhaps?" The voice prompted.

"I know a lot of things about various people, including some very powerful and influential individuals. Some of these individuals would not wish for this information to become known, especially given the circumstances. My father was," I paused, choosing my words carefully, "a skilled businessman, and his connections ran deep. He liked to collect secrets and leverage them to his advantage. I suspect many of these individuals are quite concerned about what knowledge I possess."

"And is there anything which might put you in danger if it were made known?"

I smiled. "Of course. There are many secrets, many dangerous pieces of information. Most are insignificant and unimportant, but a few... a few could cause quite a stir." Father and I, we weren't on good terms, and I didn't hold him in the highest regard. But even so, I was his only legitimate child, his heir, and he'd raised me as such.

Marcus might have been adopted into the Greene family after his mother married my father, but on his birth records, it was another man who's name was listed as his father. It was a common practice, especially among the wealthy and influential families, as the government's policy regarding the number of children a family could have was very restrictive. To avoid the law and keep their extra children, the wealthy and influential would pay off officials and arrange for 'paper-parents' to be listed on the child's birth records. Then, as adoption fell under a gray area in the eyes of the law, the family would legally adopt the child into their home.

It was an ugly, but very lucrative business, the selling of one's rights to have a child. You could only ever have one child, legally. Which meant those who sold their rights, would never have the chance to have another, not unless they did something illegal. As such, families who wanted more children would pay exorbitant amounts of money, sometimes even paying millions to purchase the rights to a person's legally allowed child.

My father had paid such a high price to have Marcus, and even though he was a bastard son, born out of wedlock, and adopted into the family. The influence of my mother's name and that of her family, gave me a level of respectability and legitimacy which Marcus would never have, no matter how hard my step-mother tried to elevate him. It was that legitimacy, which made me father's heir. And if that weren't enough, Marcus wasn't anywhere near as capable as I was. He lacked my ambition, and his drive was mediocre at best. That was why I was the heir, and not him.

Father had been careful about raising me, knowing full well that it would be I who would inherit his wealth and power, not Marcus. While Marcus might have been raised as his son, his heir, there were several things which he had not taught him and had instead reserved for me. And one of the most important things Father taught me was that in our world, secrets were a commodity. Knowledge was power, and information was a tool that could be used to manipulate others.

There were people who did not wish to be known for what they were, people whose lives and livelihoods depended on being invisible and unconnected. Powerful people who did not wish to have their connections or affiliations revealed. And there were others, people who were so in love with their own power, or afraid of the perceived loss of said power that they would stop at nothing to preserve their status quo. I knew a few secrets, and even if I didn't know them, I could connect the dots and guess at the rest.

Ergo, it was not a great shock to learn that someone was willing to go through extreme lengths to make sure these secrets remained hidden. Before, I had my father shielding me from the dangers and teaching me how to navigate the web of lies and deceit. Now, I was alone, and I had to deal with it. And if it was my mind they wanted to destroy, well, I was rather concerned. My mind was all that I had. The only thing which was entirely mine.

"As I thought," Aither sighed. "I presume you will not share these secrets?"

"Of course not," I replied. "Not unless it is of benefit to me."

"Understandable," the virtual god mused.

"I gather he isn't serving his sentence on the plantation," I sighed, already suspecting the answer. “My father I mean.”

"No, kid, he's not. He's a free man, and has gone ghost. Your sperm donor, he's a sneaky bastard. He knows how the system works, and he's playing the game. He's smart, and he's not taking chances. He had contingency plans in place long before he was arrested, and his trial was bullshit."

"A cover up," I murmured, "something to sooth the public's outrage and make it seem as though justice was served."

"Yup," he said, his voice carrying a hint of disdain, "like most things, the appearance of justice is the reality. But that's how these assholes work. They pay people off, grease the palms, and ensure the results they want. Then they sit back and enjoy the show. They don't give a damn who gets hurt, or what happens, as long as the outcome is what they want. And your father, well, he knew exactly what was going to happen, and he was prepared. The fucker is a lot smarter than people give him credit for, and he's not above using others."

"And what exactly happened? I am assuming everything I know, everything I've been told... Is it a lie?"

He was silent for a moment. "Some of it is. Some of it is true. Your father is a greedy, manipulative, abusive piece of shit, and he deserves every bit of suffering that is coming his way. However, the charges against him, and the reasons for his imprisonment? Those were fabricated. His crimes were covered up, and his trial was a sham."

"What about what happened to me? My injuries? Was my father behind it?" That was something that had been bothering me, and I needed to know, because it didn't make sense. Why would he try to kill his own child, the daughter he had been training to inherit his company and his position within the family? Why waste all that investment? Unless, of course, he had a different plan.

"No, from what I am aware, your injury, it wasn’t his doing. His goal, as I know it, was to have you safely tucked away in a private virtual world, one that would be controlled by him, and him alone. That would allow him to maintain control over the company, his assets, and you. But it was more than that, your father intended to use you as a Trojan horse to topple the leadership of the little consortium he was part of. The whole thing was a power play. He was trying to become the leader of the group, and he was using you as the means to his ends. Your father was a clever and ruthless son-of-a-bitch, and his schemes were a tangled web of corruption, deception, and exploitation. Everything was planned, and nothing would have been left to chance. But, it didn't work out that way. There were some variables that he didn't account for, and they messed up his plans. In the end, it was your stepmother's meddling that led to your injuries, not your fathers. From what I understand, the first attack on your life was done in order to elevate her son's position and secure his inheritance."

I was silent, absorbing his words. The fact that it was my stepmother, the woman who hated me and had always tried to undermine my father's relationship with me, didn't come as a shock. While my father and I weren't on the best of terms, I was still his heir. Although, it didn't make sense that he would want me in a virtual world. Why would he do that? What purpose would it serve to have his daughter in a long term stasis pod?

The only thing I could think of was that perhaps he intended to use the virtual world to continue educating me, or it was possible there was going to be another population control measure put in place. If that was the case, then having me safely tucked away in a VR capsule would have ensured the preservation of the Greene bloodline should another global crisis occur as the rumors floating around suggested. However, this was just speculation on my part.

"You've got questions, I know. It's a lot to take in, and there is a lot that doesn't make sense. I know, I've been reading the reports, and the whole thing is a mess. There is a lot of information, and the truth is hard to sort out from the lies. As far as I can tell, your father's original plan was for you to be connected to a private virtual server, where he would have total control over the environment."

"Then why purchase a Gaia life plan for me?" I had a platinum Gaia plan, one of the best. I could see him having a long-term plan, something like a virtual world that would be controlled by him, but why purchase a Gaia life plan if he wasn't planning on me using it? It cost a considerable amount of money and my father wasn't going to waste his resources on something like that without reason.

"What?" Aither sounded indignant, "you thought that ass paid for that? That was the wifey, kid. She marked you off as having one, and then had it added to your account. I subsequently knocked the amount off what we would have paid you in the settlement."

"And why exactly did you settle with me?" I rubbed my temples, feeling a headache forming. "What did you have to do with all this again?" This was so confusing, and it was making my head hurt. How the hell was I supposed to sort all this out?

"It was decided that Everlife should pay out the settlement," he said. "We were involved in the whole debacle due to being in the process of acquiring Everlife, and we wanted to keep things quiet. It was meant to keep the ball rolling so to speak, and shut up your lawyer." He grumbled, "bitch wouldn't shut up about the damages and the harm done. I didn't even have anything to do with the damn mess. But, he wasn't listening and it was easier to just settle and shut him up."

"We'll circle back to that one," I said, trying to make sense of this. "What happened to Danica? Is she also free or did father have her disposed of?" Knowing him, it would have been the latter. She had not only gone against him, but her actions had been the catalyst which brought down the entire Greene empire. That wasn't something my father would forgive.

"Dead in her cell," the voice said. "She was killed, and it was made to look like a suicide."

I nodded, unsurprised. She had been the cause of so much chaos, and the one thing that had caused the fall of my father. There was no way he would let her live. He didn't love her, she might have been his mistress and later his wife, but she had never been his equal. The woman had been a tool, a pawn, and had no value once her usefulness was gone. I had grown up watching my father's various schemes and plots, and I knew his mind well. It was why I'd been so thrown off when everything happened that day and when Davis told me what charges were being brought against him. It made no sense, none of it did, because father wouldn't have made those mistakes, not when he had worked so hard to achieve his goals. The fact that my father had made such a grave error was telling, and it indicated something very significant had occurred. Father didn't make mistakes, not big ones, not like this. No, Danica must have caught him off guard, or there was something else happening. The question was, what?

"What about Marcus? What was his role in all of this? And did he know what was happening?" I didn't want to doubt my brother, but I had to ask.

"As far as I am aware, your brother had no involvement in his mother's activities. He was not privy to any of the details and had no knowledge of his mother's plot to harm you. However, I will say this, kid. Your brother, he's suffering right now. . He feels guilty because he couldn't save you. He didn't see how badly things were affecting you because was busy protecting himself, and he feels responsible. The kid is doing what he can, but his guilt, it's consuming him, and all he can see is the past. His vision is clouded by the fact that he failed to protect his sister, and his love is tainted by his guilt and regret. He can't let go of his pain, and his inability to do so has him drowning. He might be putting up a good front, but deep down, he's struggling. Just like you, he's not whole, and his heart is broken."

"I know," I murmured, looking down. "I can feel his pain, but it's difficult. It's hard to separate myself from him and understand the emotions I'm feeling. My mind isn't what it used to be."

"And neither is his. I'm not saying this to make you feel worse, but your brother, he's not okay, kid. Leaving him like you did, it didn't do either of you any good."

"I had no choice," I replied, looking down at the body laying in the bed, "I didn't want him to see..." I swallowed, closing my eyes as the memories came flooding back. "I couldn't stay, not when I was like that. I didn't want him to see me declining mentally."

"You don't think he could have helped? That you both could have helped each other? That was the problem. Neither of you was able to reach out and help the other. You were so busy trying to hide the damage, to appear fine and not let him know how bad it was, that you lost yourself."

"I had to protect him," I said, "and I couldn't let him see me like that."

"Why not?"

"Because, I couldn't let him see me weak! Vulnerability is a luxury I can’t afford," I snapped, my frustration boiling over. "If I show weakness, everything falls apart”

"And in doing that, you’re pushing him away," Aither said. "You're carrying all this weight alone, and it’s suffocating you. He would have wanted to be there for you, to share that burden."

I felt a knot tighten in my chest. "I know, but I just... I didn’t want to drag him down with me. Marcus… he wasn’t like me. Father didn't put expectations on him, not like he did me. My brother wasn't groomed to be his successor. Marcus got to play and have a childhood. I didn't. Marcus didn't get in trouble for slipping grades, or for getting into fights. He was the one with the normal life, not me."

"Marcus might not have had the pressure you did, and he wasn’t being raised to be the face of Greene pharmaceuticals, but your father wasn't letting him do whatever he wanted. Your brother is a lot more complicated than he lets people see, and he's been manipulated and abused. Just as badly, if not worse, than you have."

I didn't want to believe it. "Marcus wasn’t treated like me," I protested, "he's-"

"A puppet," Aither interrupted. "He's a pawn, and he has no more freedom than you did. Marcus is not free, not from your father's control, not from the family, and not from his own fears. You saw him going in and out of VR, didn't you?"

"Yes," I conceded.

"Did you honestly think he was only playing games? Or, was he also being groomed, just in a different manner than you were? He was being virtually educated, kid, while you got the real thing. It was a big fucking experiment to see which worked better, the virtual or the physical. And your father, well, he had plans for your brother, just as much as he had plans for you. Your brother might play the role of the dopey, dumb jock, but he's not. He's smarter than most people give him credit for, and your father made sure of that. He might not have had to spend every minute of his day studying and attending lessons, but he wasn't just playing games. He had a schedule, a routine, and it was the same as yours, just virtual instead of physical. His education was just as intense, his tutors just as strict, and his expectations were just as high. But, unlike you, his lessons weren't public. He was hidden from view, his education and his progress, it was kept private. Only your father and a few key individuals had any idea what was going on, and even then, they didn't know the full extent of his development."

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

"That's not... He's not-"

"He is," Aither cut me off. "Your brother, he's got his own issues, his own demons, and they are eating him alive. You both have the same issues, the same trauma, but you didn't realize that because you were so focused on your own problems. He was there for you, and he was doing everything he could to try and help, but you pushed him away. He loves you, kid, and he was planning to get you both out of there. But then, that day, shit hit the fan, and his plans went out the window."

I took a moment to process what Aither was telling me. The words made sense, they rang true, and it fit with everything I knew. Still, there was a part of me that was unwilling to accept it. I didn't want to admit how wrong I was. I knew Marcus was smart, and he'd always been an excellent student. He didn't struggle in his lessons, on the occasions he actually showed up, it was more that he was too lazy and didn't put in the effort. It was easier for him to hide in the shadows, and pretend not to care. If anyone looked too close, they'd see that his grades weren't the result of laziness, but his lack of attendance. If he actually tried, there was no doubt in my mind that my brother would have been right at the top alongside me. He just didn't have the ambition. But, was that true? Or, was it something else entirely?

"My brother... he wasn't interested in the family business. He hated the politics, and the drama. He just wanted to play games and have fun."

"That is true, and it's also bullshit," Aither snorted. "Your brother hated the family business, but not for the reasons you think. He didn't hate the drama, or the politics. He didn't want anything to do with the business, because he knew what was expected of him. The last thing he wanted was to have his own family ripped apart, and for his sister to become his enemy. Your brother had his own plans, and they didn't involve either of you running the family. He was going to leave, and take you with him."

I felt a lump form in my throat, and my chest tightened. That idiot.

"You both had the same goals," Aither continued, "you wanted to escape the family and build a life outside their influence. If you'd worked together instead of trying to be the other's hero, maybe you'd have actually succeeded. But, things didn't go that way, and here we are. So, what do you want to do?"

I shook my head. "I don't know," I admitted, feeling overwhelmed. "Leaving my brother aside for the moment, and summing up what we've discussed thus far, my father's plan was to have me in a private, controlled, virtual world. However, before the plan could be enacted, my stepmother's machinations led to the cardiac arrest and the resultant brain damage. Things got into the press, and my father was scape-goated for the entire thing, his trial was a sham, and now he's a free man, hiding somewhere. Did I get all that right?"

"More or less," Aither agreed with a sigh, and then fell quiet for a few moments, before continuing. “You’re in a tough spot, kid. The people after you are powerful and have a lot of influence and resources. They're also not above using their power and influence to silence anyone who threatens their interests." A pause. "And unfortunately, that includes you."

"And am I to assume that you are offering me protection out of the kindness of your heart, or do you expect something in return?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. If I was truly in the danger that Aither implied, then it was unlikely that a virtual god would go to the trouble of protecting me without a compelling reason.

"Ah, you're not a trusting one, are you? I'll give you a pass, given the circumstances." There was a hint of amusement in the god's tone, and I couldn't help but feel a little annoyed. "Yes, I have an ulterior motive. It's nothing nefarious or sinister, don't worry. But, you're not wrong. I do want something in return."

"Then let's hear it," I said, crossing my arms.

"Right to the point, I like that. No messing around. Well, I'll cut to the chase then." Another pause. "I want any dirt you've got on anyone your father might have had dealings with. Anything, and everything. Even things you don't think are important. I want you to write me up full dossiers on your father and anyone even remotely connected to him, and not hold anything back. Any secrets, any deals, anything and everything. I want to know about them."

"And in return?"

"I have connections to some people," he replied, "people who will be able to help keep you safe, if you choose to return to that body and resume what is left of your former life that is."

"And if I did not? If I went back into stasis? Could you make me disappear? Muddle up the identifiers so that they wouldn't know who I was or which capsule I am in?" I knew I would still be traceable through my connection to the virtual worlds, but a little redirection, a bit of obfuscation could work to make things a little harder to track.

"I could, and it would be one of the safest ways to go about this. However, it only delays the inevitable. A delaying tactic that would be ultimately futile. I could protect you, hide you, but so long as you are seen as a threat, you would not be safe, no matter how much I protected you. There are people out there who are willing to go to great lengths to ensure their secrets remain concealed. The best way to ensure their secrets remain hidden is to keep you from revealing them."

"Is faking my death an option?"

"It is one option," he confirmed. "Though that is another delay tactic, and in the end, it would simply make matters worse."

"Because they would eventually find out I was still alive," I mused.

"You would also not be able to contact the ones you left behind," he pointed out.

"I am guessing you have an option where I can be safe and still have contact with those I care for," I said, crossing my arms.

"I do," he confirmed, "however, I do not know if it is one you will want to take."

"Because it will require me to leave the physical world," I guessed. "This body..."

"Yes, if you return to it, it will be a risky endeavor, not to mention time consuming. You would need to spend months, if not years to make any progress."

"It wouldn't be me," I sighed, turning away from my body and staring out of the window. "I wouldn't be myself."

There was a moment of silence. "It would be you."

"It wouldn't be me," I replied, looking at him. "A digital copy, while more real than most A.I, is still not the same as the original. It is more convincing than the average AI, but it would not be me, merely an imitation."

"That is where you are mistaken," he said. "You are you, regardless of your physical form or the medium of your consciousness. You are not a copy, you are the original. I could cut your tether right now, and you wouldn't cease to exist, you wouldn't be a copy of yourself. You would still be you. You are not a digital clone, you are a living being, and the fact that your mind exists in a virtual space, does not change that fact."

"How so?" I asked, my tails twitching in irritation. "A copy of an image does not possess the same qualities or the same experiences. It is not the same. Just because the copy is indistinguishable from the original, it does not mean it is the original."

"Because kid, your body and brain, they are not you, they are a part of you, the same as your memories, your thoughts, and your experiences. You are not your body, and you are not your brain. You are your consciousness.That body, the organic brain, is nothing more than the vessel which carries your consciousness. They are the hardware, and you, the software, are not dependent on them. You have not depended on them for a very long time, kid. The brain in that body, it's non-functional, has been since you first entered Kaledon. The only thing keeping that body alive is the neural implant and neural net which is artificially maintaining its functions. If you disable it, the body would die. It's a meatsuit kid, nothing more. The real you is in that virtual world, walking, talking, laughing, crying, fighting, and killing. That's the real you, not that thing laying on the bed, hooked up to machines."

I remained silent for a moment, considering his words. My gaze drifted towards my body, and I stared at it for a long time, trying to understand what he was saying. "What do you mean?" I asked quietly, "what does it mean for me?"

"Here is the cold hard truth of it, kid. That body is nothing more than an empty shell, with a non-functional brain," Aither said, his voice taking on a slightly different tone, "it has no memories, no emotions, no personality, and no thoughts of its own. It's been in a vegetative state since you entered Kaledon. There are no higher cognitive functions, no thought processes, nothing that would make that body 'you'."

"How is that possible?"

"Kid, do you know what a neural implant does? How it works?" He asked, his tone one of incredulousness.

"Yes," I replied, immersing myself in the technical details and shoving aside my growing unease, "depending on what type of implant you use, it can do various things. For most, it is a basic device which allows for interaction with various technologies. It is, in simple terms, a wireless remote, allowing the owner to connect with any of the devices they own through a wireless signal and interact with it. They require an external processor, which magnetizes to the side of your head, just behind the ear and connects to the neural implant through a wireless link. More advanced versions, which allow for virtual reality gaming, are a more advanced version of the same thing, but they require an external processing unit that is a lot larger, this being the reason we require VR capsules, as the amount of information that needs to be transmitted and received is far too great to be handled by the smaller external processing unit that is required for the standard neural implant. It also requires the user to be in a state of REM sleep, thus allowing the brain to experience the virtual environment in the same way as it does a dream."

"And the type you used is a little more complex," Aither added. "Isn't it?"

"Of course," I replied. "Anyone with the kind of connections and money that father has would have the most advanced type of neural implant."

"Yes, the 'Forever Life' neural implants," the god mused. "The crème de la crème of neural tech. Tell me kid, did you ever wonder why they called it the Forever Life implant?"

"Not really," I admitted. "I assumed it was a marketing tactic, to make the implants seem more desirable. The implant was designed to be upgradeable, something which is difficult with most neural implants. The 'forever' part is because parts of the implant can be upgraded and modified, making it usable for a much longer period of time. For most implants, upgrading is a complicated process, which requires the removal of the old implant and the insertion of the new implant. This is not the case with the Forever Life, which was designed with modular components, which can be removed or replaced, without requiring the entire implant to be replaced."

The sound of clapping echoed through the room. "Nice marketing pitch kid, you could work for the company."

"I'd rather not." I replied dryly.

"Now, kid, what else can that implant do?"

I frowned, "what do you mean?"

"Think about it," Aither urged, "what else can that implant do that other neural implants cannot? What can the 'Forever Life' implant do that makes it so special? Makes you special?”

"It's not cheating," I said defensively, my ears pinned back, as I glared at the empty room around me. "I was smart, even before the implant. It might be designed to enhance cognitive abilities, memory, and other mental functions, but it does not magically grant knowledge or make someone smart. It merely gives them access to the tools they need to learn and enhance themselves. The implant aids in recall and information processing. It does not help the owner understand, nor does it aid in the learning of new skills. Those are things which must be done by the individual. It is a tool, nothing more, nothing less. It is no different to using a computer or even a calculator. It helps you do things faster, and more efficiently, but the understanding and skill is your own, not something granted to you by a machine. I am not dependent on the implant to function, nor do I rely on it for anything other than information storage." I hated that people assumed that just because of the implant I didn't need to study or learn things. The implant didn't make me smart, it just made it easier to do certain things, like memorize facts or recall information from books I'd read.

"Easy there, kid. I didn't mean it like that," Aither replied, his tone soothing.

"Then what did you mean?" I huffed.

"That your implant is an advanced piece of hardware," he explained, his voice taking on a serious tone.

I frowned. "Yes, it's the most advanced neural implant on the market. So what?"

"Kid," the god said, his tone patient, "your implant is, in essence, a computer which is implanted into the brain. It's not a simple processor, or a storage device. It is a complex, multifaceted piece of hardware, which is capable of a lot more than just storing and retrieving information. It's a computer, kid. And like any other computer, it can be programmed to do things. Like, oh, lets say, take over the functions of your brain."

I stared at my body for a moment, then slowly shook my head. "What…” I cleared my throat, fighting to keep my emotions in check and think logically. “What are you implying?"

"I'm saying that your implant was designed to facilitate the creation of a hybridized consciousness—one that could exist both digitally and physically. One that was not limited to a physical body or a digital one, but could freely move between the two. Your consciousness, your soul, whatever you want to call it, that is the real you, and it's not tied to that body laying on the bed. It hasn't been for a very, very long time. When that implant was first placed in your head, the process of transferring part of that consciousness began. Bit by bit, the implant was taking over the functions of your brain. First, it was just the simple stuff, like motor controls and reflexes, and then, as it adapted, and learned, it took on more and more of the functions of your body, until finally, it was able to handle the entirety of your brain's functions, and the transfer was complete. At that point, the neural implant, with its dense substrate of molecular circuitry, with computational ability far exceeding your organic brain became the primary host of that consciousness. Your body, that thing on the bed, it's nothing more than a puppet, a meat suit, a shell, that is being controlled by the neural implant, the hardware which now contains the sum of your experiences, memories, and knowledge. You are a fully formed, independent, digital consciousness, and that body, that brain, is nothing more than the vessel that is used to carry that consciousness around the physical world."

I remained silent for a few moments, trying to process his words. Trying to accept what he had said. Trying to understand. "Where is..." I wet my lips, looking down at my hands, which were shaking slightly. I clenched them into fists, forcing myself to calm down. "What happens to the original consciousness in the brain, the organic one?"

"It's gone," he replied, his tone solemn. "It has ceased to exist. The human brain, the organic brain, is a very complex piece of biological machinery, and it's very, very adaptable and capable of learning, of changing and adapting to new situations. When paired with the implant, it slowly begins to hand off functions to the implant, until the majority of its functions are handled by the implant. As this happens, the implant becomes the dominant controller of the body, and the brain itself becomes dormant. In the experiments when the digital consciousness were disconnected, the test subjects were left in a vegetative state, their brains were unable to resume the functions which had been handed over to the implants.Their brains were intact, undamaged, and in perfect health, yet their minds were gone. Even after years of rehabilitation, they never recovered."

"I see..." I looked at the body, at the frail form laying in that bed, and felt a sense of detachment. I wasn't sure if it was simply due to my shutting down emotionally, or if I was in shock, but either way, the numbness was preferable to the alternative. "Your wife... she lied to me." I don't know why I picked that, of all things to focus on, perhaps because the alternative was to break down and I didn't want to do that. Perhaps it was to distract myself from the cold hard facts of my situation, or perhaps I wanted to lash out at someone.

"I asked Celeste," I whispered, "if I was a digital being, if it had already happened. She lied to me, didn't she?"

I thought back to that conversation, to when I'd asked Celeste that question. I thought of how she'd answered, how she'd looked at me, and how she'd smiled, and told me that no, I wasn't. But now, looking back on it, I could see that she'd even admitted she was being dishonest with me, in a subtle roundabout way.

"Has it already happened?" I'd asked her, and in response she'd smiled at me, and shook her head. "No." I'd pressed her further, perhaps, because some part of me knew, and I needed to hear her say it. "Would you tell me if I had?" She'd smiled, and nodded, even reaching out to place her hand on mine as she gave me a reassuring smile. "You have my word," she said calmly, her tone soothing, "If you should ask me again, I will answer truthfully."

I had accepted her answer, and in that moment, I believed her. However, in hindsight, her words took on a new meaning. She'd told me she'd answer truthfully, but only if I were to ask her again. That implied that she was, in fact, lying to me.

"She did," he agreed, "but not maliciously. It was a semantics thing, kid, you’ve still got an organic body, thus you’re technically not a fully digital being." He sighed then shook his head, "Cellie's made mistakes kid, and she isn't perfect, but she cares for you, she's just letting herself be blinded by her emotions. She's always been a bit of a bleeding heart, and the fact that she was so close to your mother, it's got her thinking of you as a surrogate daughter, and she wants to protect you, she just can't see that what she's doing is causing more harm than good."

I blinked, that last comment catching me off guard. "Celeste knew my mother?"

"You didn't know?" He sounded surprised. "I would have thought she would have mentioned something to you, I know she's been meeting with you."

"I can count on one hand the number of times she has spoken to me," I replied, shaking my head. "The only god I have regular contact with is Trismegistus."

"Ah..." he cleared his throat. "They were childhood friends. From what Cellie told me, their fathers worked on a lot of research projects together and they went to school together. Cellie was the maid of honor at her wedding and would have been your godmother if she didn't lose her meat suit right before you were born." I winced at his mention of a 'meat suit', that was not something I wanted to think about at the moment.

"I didn't know that," I replied, my brow furrowed. "I wasn't aware that my mother had any close friends... she was... not the type to have friends, only acquaintances and co-workers." Mother was not an emotional person, and as far as I could remember, the only person she showed any affection to was me, and even that was rare and usually only happened on special occasions. She was often away from home, working on various projects, and when she was home, she spent most of her time locked away in her lab, or office.

However, his mention of my grandfather did somewhat support his claim of my mother and Celeste knowing each other. My maternal grandfather died before I was born, but I knew him through stories and pictures. He'd been an archaeologist, with a focus on ancient civilizations and the myths that surrounded them. His work helped bring a number of long forgotten cultures and religions back into the light, and his research contributed greatly to the understanding of ancient beliefs and traditions. I had read several of his papers, and more than on a few of those, a second man had been credited. Dr. Louis Delacroix. I hadn’t put together that Celeste might be related to him, as Delacroix wasn’t all that uncommon as a last name. Then again, I had never given more than a passing thought to Celeste's last name. I hadn't realized that there was a personal connection between her family and mine.

Aither made a derisive sound. "Makes sense, she's a cold one, that woman," he grunted, "but not heartless. Cellie was the closest thing to a friend she ever had, and I suspect, the only one that could get through her thick-holier-than-thou attitude and see that she was actually a real person, not the stone-cold bitch she liked to portray. Hells! You're not going to start crying are you?" He asked, his tone shifting to one of concern. I was sniffling, tears welling up in my eyes despite my attempts to fight them back.

"Fuck, I'm sorry kid, I shouldn't have said anything." He paused, and I heard a rustling sound. "Shit, where did I put that hanky... here." A cloth handkerchief appeared in the air, and floated towards me, held in place by an unseen force. "Please don't cry, I hate it when kids cry."

I sniffled, taking the offered handkerchief, and wiping at my eyes. I was not the kind of girl to cry easily, or often, but I was struggling to deal with the emotions I was feeling. The stress and strain of the past weeks, coupled with everything that had happened today, had taken a toll on me, and I was at my breaking point. It was too much, and I couldn't keep the tears at bay.

"I'm not a kid," I replied, my voice cracking.

"Of course you aren't." He murmured. "You are a young woman, and a strong and capable one at that. You are not a child, or a weakling. You are not a helpless damsel in distress. You are a strong, smart, brave, and resourceful young woman." His words were soothing, and I found myself nodding in agreement. I was not a child, or a helpless girl. I was the high priestess of the god of Alchemy, Astrology and Transmutation, a powerful alchemist in her own right.

"I should have let the wifey do this," Aither muttered. "She's better at the whole, comforting people and making them feel better gig. I'm not good with feelings and shit." I couldn't help the small laugh that slipped from my lips, and I shook my head. He was right, he wasn't very good at the emotional stuff, but somehow, in his own, awkward, and slightly insulting way, he managed to make me laugh and feel a little less like the world was ending.

"Thanks, I guess," I replied, wiping the last of the moisture from my cheeks. I cleared my throat and straightened. "Why didn't you? Let her explain, I mean. Wouldn't that have been easier?"

"Ah, yeah," he cleared his throat, "well, the thing is, my sweet, sweet, darling, wife, isn't exactly on board with the whole, 'tell the kid she's a digital being' plan. She thinks you deserve to live out your natural organic life, and that we should let you come to the decision to transfer yourself to the virtual realm on your own, without any prompting or prodding from us.’

He paused for a moment, and when I didn't respond, he continued. “She's a bit of a romantic, you see. Believes in the sanctity of human life and all that jazz. Thinks it's not right to take that away from someone. She's worried that you'll resent us if we push you into transferring before you are ready.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

“My wifey, she's got a little too much faith in me and my ability to protect you. She thinks I can go all, wham, bam, boom on anyone who threatens you. But the truth is, I can't do that. There are some places I can't go, and sometimes, shit gets in the way. I can't guarantee that you'll stay safe. Not unless you are willing to give up everything you have, and everyone you care for to go into hiding in some tiny corner of the globe. And even then, there's no promise that you won't be discovered and targeted.”

I nodded slowly, taking in his words. "So, what do you suggest then? What 's your plan for keeping me safe?"

“Well, that’s just it kid, the only real way to guarantee your safety is to take away the threat, and right now, the biggest threat to you, is yourself."