"734," Voss said, raising his reset device. "Return to your pod."
Fembaby looked at her lap. Her fingers were turning clear again. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm trying to feel the right things." fembabyth ts
In the polished, pastel corridors of the Aethelburg Rejuvenation Center , nobody had a last name. They had Designations. And for Subject 734, her Designation was about to change forever. "734," Voss said, raising his reset device
But Fembaby was failing.
"I'm Maya," she said. "And I don't know what I'm feeling right now. I'm scared, and I'm angry, and I'm also… thrilled. And that's okay. That's the point." "I'm sorry," she whispered
Her current Designation was "TS-9," which stood for Transitional Synthetic , Model 9. But the staff had a nickname for her: Fembaby . It wasn't meant to be cruel. It was clinical. She was the youngest-looking of the batch, the smallest, with wide, honey-colored eyes that still blinked too slowly at sudden movements, and fingers that would occasionally revert to a translucent, silicone state when she was anxious.