She awoke to silence.
Not the silence of absence, but of perfection. A silence curated by soft light filtering through pale glass, by the hum of machines that worked so efficiently they no longer needed to speak. The sheets beneath her were smooth, weightless, the air touched with lavender and something clean, unplaceable—like clarity itself.
Her body didn't ache. Her mind wasn't fogged. She was aware.
Of the cat curled beside her, its chest rising in slow, trusting rhythm.
Of the pulse under her own skin—slow, balanced, checked and confirmed by the barely audible chime of the monitoring system.
Of her name.
Not the one she was born with.
A different one, but still hers.
She sat up, calmly. No panic. No confusion. The memories of another life lingered like mist at the edge of her thoughts—clear enough to feel real, far enough not to hurt. She remembered…a world less clean, less kind. A younger version of herself, tired from fighting for every step. Alone in the wrong ways. Dependent. Overlooked. Always needing to prove something just to be allowed to exist.
But here, she was.
Not questioned. Not bound.
This body—this life—was educated, respected, and solitary by choice. Her fingers knew the language of medical code. Her eyes remembered how to read biotracker flows. She owned her time, her space, her quiet. She had no husband, no family, no mess to unravel.
She had peace.
And the systems would keep her safe.
If her heart wavered, they would know. If she fell, they would come. Not out of love—but out of design. Because the world had changed. Efficiency had replaced chaos. Health was monitored before pain could arrive.
She stood slowly, walked barefoot to the balcony, and watched the sun rise over the silver trees lining the edge of the horizon. Below, a clean transit pod whisked silently down the path. Somewhere in the city, people woke to perfect health readings and scheduled lives.
She had work to do—adjustments to neural implants, clients to oversee, devices to program. But for now, she placed her hand on the railing, closed her eyes, and simply breathed.
She had survived herself.
And now…she would live.