It was perfect. It had taken 18 months of off-hours work, piecing together whatever spare bits of metal and wire wouldn’t be noticed as missing, but the build was finally complete. A robotic body, tailored just to my needs. Small, efficient, and without any of the inconveniences and flaws genetics had so bestowed upon me.
With a few final checks - both of my new hardware and of my surroundings - I settled in to the neural bridge and let the computer do the rest. This wasn’t my first time resleeving, but it was the first time I’d done so by choice. The systems I had built were gradually coming online as my mind transferred into its new home. I became aware of my augmented senses, of the added mass of my metallic form, and the conspicuous absence of my heartbeat and breathing. Those processes - automatic as they were - were still a jarring omission from the experience of being in a synthmorph.
After a couple hours, it was done. I stood up, now fully integrated into my new body, and took one last look at my former body. Maybe someone else would use it. Maybe some biohacker would build something else out of it. Whatever the case, I left it behind and never looked back again.
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