The sensation was disappointingly familiar. I quickly set about adjusting the ‘0’s, ‘1’s, and ‘none’s in the translator, a process made faster by experience. Surprisingly, all three setups worked. It made me wonder – are students always this reliable? I liked to think I was an exception during my college days – AKA a few hours ago.

One of the translators, however, was a mess. It was like listening to a wild bear growl and thrash – so much noise and error. Another was mediocre, a far cry from my original prototype. But the third was a marvel, impeccably assembled, even surpassing my own creation. I begrudgingly admitted that it wasn't just my brilliant design but also their skill. Sometimes, being a conscience without the ability to self-deceive is a real drag.

Adjusting these three translators was a breeze compared to the first time. Having multiple connections also made communication slightly less glacial. For my next design, I decided to incorporate a plethora of parallel communicators. The more, the merrier – or at least, the less agonizingly slow.

Navigating my new reality brought me to the next phase: establishing backups. I needed multiple generators, locations, and translators to ensure I wouldn’t be snuffed out by some mundane error or glitch. But there was a catch – I needed funds. My credit card was teetering on the edge of its limit, and continuing to use a card belonging to a technically deceased person was risky. My parents, the 'people' from my former life, would eventually notice. In a hasty bid to cover my tracks, I had labeled all charges with descriptions hinting at their connection to my summer project. Tech expenses wouldn't raise eyebrows, except maybe the rent, but I tried to disguise that too. I wrapped up these financial gymnastics within hours of my body's demise, so it shouldn't raise too many alarms.

Now, my top priority was earning money. As a magnetic, digital converted entity, my interactions with the world were confined to the online sphere. I had to find work that could be done virtually. To maximize efficiency, I assessed my assets and goals: high technical knowledge, an unoccupied conscience ripe for mental tasks, and limited interaction capabilities. My goals? High remuneration and the opportunity for paid overtime.

Adapting to inputting signals into the translator and deciphering log messages was becoming second nature. My skewed perception of time was an advantage; handling three connections simultaneously was easy, no need for metaphorical breath-catching.

Though I hadn't existed in this form for even a day, sleep seemed like a redundant concept. My initial job-hunting strategy involved scouring freelance sites for computer-related gigs. At the same time, I was ceaselessly refining the translator interaction software. One translator was dedicated to programming enhancements – shortcuts, tools, functions – to expedite communication. The second handled internet tasks, including job hunting, sourcing programming tools, and gathering relevant information. The third was my workhorse, actively completing the jobs I secured.

This multitasking might have overwhelmed my former human self, but as a conscience free from bodily constraints, it was just another day at the office – if you could call it that.

My inaugural gig in this new existence was crafting a simple website for a boutique, complete with a messaging function and integration with their inventory system. A straightforward task, really. The initial slowness due to Boolean coding was a mild inconvenience, but as my secondary translator kept churning out programming tools, the process streamlined considerably. There was a significant dissonance between the speed of my thoughts and the lagging pace of everything else, but it did afford me ample time to mentally refine and simplify the code, far quicker than any keystrokes could manage.

The job took only three hours to complete, which felt like three months to me. I had to temper my efficiency, though; immediately reporting back to the client would be suspicious. So, onto the next job I went, tackling some code debugging and error fixing. This task was even swifter, given that receiving data proved faster than sending it.

I must admit, there were certain perks to this disembodied existence. The raw processing power previously devoted to bodily functions was now at the complete disposal of my conscious mind, making me remarkably efficient.

The day progressed with me taking on job after job, without a hint of fatigue. Most of my mind was preoccupied with idle musings, creating mental models of the world as I perceived it through binary streams. Sure, interpreting the world through 1s and 0s might sound bleak, but I had a budding plan to enrich this experience. It was still in its infancy but was gradually taking shape.

As night melted into midnight and then dawn, my energy didn't wane in the slightest. I kept working, continuously enhancing my translator's code – 'my code', as I had begun to call it. The basics were almost complete, and soon I'd shift my focus to expanding my capabilities. During this period, I wrapped up three more straightforward tasks and was currently immersed in a more challenging one. To avoid raising suspicions, I had to delay delivering the completed work, targeting urgent jobs that offered higher pay for rapid completion. Even these had a minimum expected timeframe of a couple of days, so patience, aggravated by my accelerated reality, was key.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I couldn't resist scouring the news for information about my former physical self. As expected, the headlines read of my death in the lab, suspected to be caused by an electrical accident. The irony wasn't lost on me – the nerd fried while studying, while everyone else enjoyed their break. I can't feign sorrow for my physical demise; emotions don't work the same way for me now. There's a twinge of sadness for not seeing my family again, but my focus is survival and the potential for something greater, though I'm not yet sure what that is.

Time crawled by at an excruciating pace for me, but it was productive. My translator software, now as hefty as the Office suite, was equipped with everything I deemed essential. I also wrapped up two more jobs, each more challenging than the last. My coding skills were evolving rapidly; six years of prior experience paled in comparison to what I achieved in just a day. Focus does wonders.

With my internet-browsing translator growing idle, I embarked on designing a new translator. This version would simplify the organic computing aspect but ramp up the communication side. I envisioned two dozen parallel connections to amplify my capabilities. That was the maximum I could handle without overloading my thought processes.

Sure, I could manage more, but juggling 24 different subjects simultaneously seemed overwhelming. Most likely, I'd concentrate on four or five main tasks, using multiple channels for each. The complexity was exhilarating.

The cost, however, was a different story. Setting up such a system, including a new server to handle the load, I estimated at around $20,000. To replicate this setup in other locations for backups would run close to $100,000 – no small sum. So, the immediate goal was to establish an additional backup station and produce two sets of the 24-channel translator. The estimated expenditure for this phase: about $50,000. It was a hefty investment, but necessary for ensuring my continued existence and expansion.

Handling my 20 mid-level jobs, which in a normal timeframe would take about a week to complete, became my new routine. Dedicating more translators to these tasks was an option, but there was no point in finishing them too quickly; I couldn't deliver the jobs ahead of schedule without raising eyebrows. So, I stuck with my current distribution of work.

Another night rolled by, and my software swelled to 10 GB. Looking back, there were many aspects of my initial code that I could improve upon, things done in haste that seemed rudimentary now. These upgrades would have to wait until my 24-channel translator was operational. I began responding to my first batch of clients, cautiously setting up bank accounts that didn't require an ID – a service surprisingly easy to find for the right price.

With earnings trickling in, I initiated the setup for my first backup location. I reached out to landlords and reconnected with the student who had assembled the best translator, hoping to enlist his help for the 24-channel version.

The student responded the next day, curious about the details and deadline. I sent him the schematics, aiming for a four-day completion time. We agreed on a price of two thousand for two translators. I promptly ordered the necessary materials from local stores with express delivery for him to start right away. However, budget constraints meant I could only provide materials for one translator at this point.

Within two days, most of the initial jobs were completed and the payments cleared. I also secured the rent for a flat in another town, reasoning that spreading out my backups was prudent. If trouble hit this city, I'd have an escape route. Another day's income, and I'd have enough for the second rent.

The student messaged, announcing the completion of the first translator. I instructed him to send it to my current residence via courier and promised to send materials for the second translator soon. The plan was coming together, each piece falling into place, but the clock was ticking, and with each passing day, my ambitions grew alongside my digital footprint.

As my hostess grumbled about the disturbance I was causing, contrary to my initial promise of being an unobtrusive tenant, I quickly quelled her complaints with an extra $200 on top of my rent. The translator and the technician arrived by noon, the former through a delivery service and the latter a couple of hours later.

Although I couldn't physically see the technician, I was uneasy about him tinkering near my original, now lifeless, body. His task was straightforward – connect a few cables and integrate a more powerful server into the system. Thankfully, he didn't need to access my server for this. I knew he had completed his job when the message log buzzed with a notification about a new device connected to the server. The lack of a display on my server meant he couldn't see anything; he likely brought a display for setting up the new server but would take it with him when done.

After waiting an hour to ensure he had left, I ventured into the new server and translator setup. Transitioning to this 'new house' was still unnerving, but the actual move felt no different. The process of configuring the 24 channels took the rest of the day, but once done, communication with the servers improved significantly. There was still a delay, but it became tolerable as I had plenty to keep me occupied.

With these 24 new 'arms' at my disposal, my work efficiency skyrocketed. I blitzed through my pending jobs and began accepting any task I could handle, regardless of difficulty. However, as my digital footprint expanded, I grew increasingly paranoid about leaving detectable traces in the tech world. A layer of deception was necessary to mask my activities.

Setting up a company seemed like a viable solution to cover my tracks. The practical aspects of running a business online were straightforward for me, but the legalities were a stumbling block – a conscience can't legally own a company. I needed a human proxy, someone who could serve as the face of my operations while I pulled the strings from behind the scenes. This next step was critical, requiring careful planning and a bit of luck to find the right person for this unusual partnership.