air jets and directionless lighting that can track you wherever you go and drainage ducts and foldaway appliances that live in the walls. I dial the shower up to hot and high and stand under it, shivering with fear, until my skin feels raw and clean.
Iâve been hacked, and thereâs nothing I can do about it except jump through whatever hoops theyâve laid out for me and hope they kill me cleanly at the end or let me go. Resistance, as they say, is futile. If theyâve hacked my backup so deeply that they can force a new body plan on me, then they can do anything they want. Mess with my head, run multiple copies of me, access my private keys, even make a zombie body and use it to do whatever they want it to do while masquerading as me.If they can wake me up in the A-gate of another rehab apartment, then theyâve trapped my state vector. I could run away a thousand times, be tortured to death a hundredfoldâand Iâd still wake up back in that booth, a prisoner once more.
Identity theft is an ugly crime.
Before I leave the bathroom, I take a good look at my new body in the mirror. After all, I havenât seen it before, and Iâve got a nasty feeling itâll tell me something about the expectations of my captors.
It turns out that Iâm orthohuman and female all right, but not obtrusively so. I think Iâm probably fifteen centimeters shorter than I was, axisymmetrical, with good skin and hair. Itâs a pretty good-looking body, but they havenât forced exaggerated sexual characteristics on meâIâm not a doll. Iâve got wide hips, a narrow waist, breasts that are bigger than Iâd have gone for, high cheekbones and full lips, skin thatâs paler than I like. My new forehead is clear and high, above Western-style blue eyes with no foldâthey look oddly round and staring, almost kawaiiâand brown hair thatâs currently plastered across my shoulders. My shoulders? Itâs that long. Why do I have long hair? My fingernails and toenails are short. I frown. Itâs oddly inconsistent. I stretch my arms up over my head and get a nasty shock. Iâm weak âIâve got no upper-body musculature to speak of. I probably couldnât hold a saber at armâs length for half a kilosec without dropping it.
So, in summary, Iâm short and weak and unarmed, but cute if your sense of aesthetics centers on old-fashioned body plans. âHow reassuring,â I snarl at my reflection. Then I go back into the bedroom, sit down, and look at the tablet. READ ME NOW , it says. âRead to me,â I tell it, and the words morph into new shapes:
Dear Participant
Thank you for consenting to take part in the Yourdon-Fiore-Hanta experimental polity project. (If you do not recall giving this consent, tap HERE to see the release form you signed after your last backup.) We hope you will enjoy your stay in the polity. We have prepared an orientation lecture for you. The next presentation will be conducted by Dr. Fiore in 1294 seconds. To assist with maintaining the correctsetting, please attend wearing the historically authentic costume supplied (see carton under chair). There will be a cheese and wine reception afterward at which you will be given a chance to meet your fellows in the current intake of participants.
I blink. Then I reread the tablet, frantically searching for alternate meanings. I didnât sign that! Did I? Looks like I didâeither that or Iâve been hacked, but my having signed the release is more likely. I tap the link, and itâs there in black and white and red, and the sixteen-digit number works when I feed the fingerprint to my netlink. I signed a contract, and it says here Iâm committed to living in YFH-Polity under an assumed identity, name of Reeve, for the next . . . hundred megaseconds? Three years? During which time my civil rights will be limited by prior mutual agreementânot extending to my
Iâve been hacked, and thereâs nothing I can do about it except jump through whatever hoops theyâve laid out for me and hope they kill me cleanly at the end or let me go. Resistance, as they say, is futile. If theyâve hacked my backup so deeply that they can force a new body plan on me, then they can do anything they want. Mess with my head, run multiple copies of me, access my private keys, even make a zombie body and use it to do whatever they want it to do while masquerading as me.If they can wake me up in the A-gate of another rehab apartment, then theyâve trapped my state vector. I could run away a thousand times, be tortured to death a hundredfoldâand Iâd still wake up back in that booth, a prisoner once more.
Identity theft is an ugly crime.
Before I leave the bathroom, I take a good look at my new body in the mirror. After all, I havenât seen it before, and Iâve got a nasty feeling itâll tell me something about the expectations of my captors.
It turns out that Iâm orthohuman and female all right, but not obtrusively so. I think Iâm probably fifteen centimeters shorter than I was, axisymmetrical, with good skin and hair. Itâs a pretty good-looking body, but they havenât forced exaggerated sexual characteristics on meâIâm not a doll. Iâve got wide hips, a narrow waist, breasts that are bigger than Iâd have gone for, high cheekbones and full lips, skin thatâs paler than I like. My new forehead is clear and high, above Western-style blue eyes with no foldâthey look oddly round and staring, almost kawaiiâand brown hair thatâs currently plastered across my shoulders. My shoulders? Itâs that long. Why do I have long hair? My fingernails and toenails are short. I frown. Itâs oddly inconsistent. I stretch my arms up over my head and get a nasty shock. Iâm weak âIâve got no upper-body musculature to speak of. I probably couldnât hold a saber at armâs length for half a kilosec without dropping it.
So, in summary, Iâm short and weak and unarmed, but cute if your sense of aesthetics centers on old-fashioned body plans. âHow reassuring,â I snarl at my reflection. Then I go back into the bedroom, sit down, and look at the tablet. READ ME NOW , it says. âRead to me,â I tell it, and the words morph into new shapes:
Dear Participant
Thank you for consenting to take part in the Yourdon-Fiore-Hanta experimental polity project. (If you do not recall giving this consent, tap HERE to see the release form you signed after your last backup.) We hope you will enjoy your stay in the polity. We have prepared an orientation lecture for you. The next presentation will be conducted by Dr. Fiore in 1294 seconds. To assist with maintaining the correctsetting, please attend wearing the historically authentic costume supplied (see carton under chair). There will be a cheese and wine reception afterward at which you will be given a chance to meet your fellows in the current intake of participants.
I blink. Then I reread the tablet, frantically searching for alternate meanings. I didnât sign that! Did I? Looks like I didâeither that or Iâve been hacked, but my having signed the release is more likely. I tap the link, and itâs there in black and white and red, and the sixteen-digit number works when I feed the fingerprint to my netlink. I signed a contract, and it says here Iâm committed to living in YFH-Polity under an assumed identity, name of Reeve, for the next . . . hundred megaseconds? Three years? During which time my civil rights will be limited by prior mutual agreementânot extending to my
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