Beyond the Flesh

Maya hadn't always been afraid of hospitals. But now, as the automated med-shuttle glided through the pristine corridors of New Life Center, she couldn't stop her hands from trembling.

"Vital signs elevated," chirped her health band. "Would you like a calming agent?"

"No," Maya whispered. She needed to be fully alert today.

The shuttle stopped outside a gleaming white door marked "Continuity Department." Maya stepped out, straightening her jacket. The receptionist—or rather, the holographic projection of one—smiled pleasantly.

"Maya Chen, appointment for final consciousness compatibility verification," the AI announced. "Dr. Patel is ready for you."

The door slid open, revealing a bright office where a woman in her sixties sat behind a curved glass desk. Dr. Patel's eyes had the distinctive amber shimmer of the Extended—those who had already transferred their consciousness to synthetic bodies.

"Maya, please sit." The doctor's voice was warm yet somehow hollow. "Today is an exciting day. Your NextGen vessel is ready for neural mapping."

Maya's throat tightened. "I've been having... doubts."

Dr. Patel's smile didn't waver. "That's perfectly normal. The Continuity Process represents humanity's greatest achievement—the defeat of death itself. But change is always frightening."

"It's not that." Maya hesitated. "At the community center, I met someone who said... who told me about the source program."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Dr. Patel's smile remained fixed, but her amber eyes hardened.

"There's a lot of misinformation out there, Maya. Perhaps you should consider a mental wellness assessment."

"They said our new bodies aren't manufactured. They're grown. From children."

Dr. Patel stood smoothly. "This conspiracy theory again. Maya, our synthetic vessels are engineered from cellular templates, developed over decades of ethical research."

"Then why did my access get revoked when I tried to view the laboratory reports?" Maya countered. "My grandfather paid billions for my vessel. I have the right to know where it came from."

"Security protocols exist for good reason." Dr. Patel pressed something under her desk. "Perhaps we should reschedule when you're feeling more... rational."

The door slid open, and two assistants entered. Not holograms. Real people—or at least Extended in physical form.

"I just want the truth," Maya said, standing her ground.

Dr. Patel sighed. "The truth is that humanity faced extinction. Climate collapse, resource wars, biological weapons—we were killing ourselves and our planet. But now, we've transcended those limitations. Our synthetic bodies don't require food or clean water. They don't get sick. They can be repaired, upgraded, renewed indefinitely."

"At what cost?" Maya asked.

"Progress always has a price." Dr. Patel nodded to her assistants. "Prepare Ms. Chen for relaxation therapy."

Maya backed away. "I'm leaving."

"I'm afraid not. Your grandfather's contract was quite specific. Your vessel has been prepared, and the transfer will proceed as scheduled."

One of the assistants reached for her arm, but Maya was faster. Years of illegal parkour through the abandoned sectors had given her reflexes the rich never developed in their protected enclaves. She ducked under his grasp and bolted for the door.

Alarms wailed as she raced through corridors, pushing past startled staff. Security drones detached from their docking stations, their propellers whirring menacingly. Maya crashed through an emergency exit and found herself on an elevated walkway connecting to another wing of the facility.

She paused, gasping for breath, and peered over the edge. Fifty stories below, the city sprawled—gleaming towers for the Extended, crumbling infrastructure for everyone else.

A flash of movement caught her eye. In a courtyard below, children played under the watchful eyes of caretakers. But something was off. The children moved with eerie coordination, their expressions blank as they performed calisthenics in perfect unison.

Maya's blood ran cold as she realized what she was seeing—not a school, but a farm. Human shells being conditioned for their future "owners."

"Maya." Dr. Patel's voice came from behind her, unnervingly calm. "There's nowhere to go. Your vessel is waiting. In a few hours, you'll understand that this is for the best."

Maya turned to face her, backing toward the edge of the walkway.

"These children deserve their own lives," she said.

Dr. Patel's artificial face showed a flicker of what might have been genuine sadness. "They were created for this purpose. They have no families, no connections. They exist to serve the Extended—to house the minds of those who matter."

"Everyone matters," Maya whispered.

She caught a glimpse of movement—security converging from both ends of the walkway. Drones hovering closer.

Maya made her decision. With one fluid motion, she vaulted over the railing.

As she fell, she activated her emergency comm link, broadcasting on all frequencies the truth she had discovered. The signals couldn't be blocked fast enough—her message would reach thousands before the authorities could shut it down.

She hadn't expected to become a martyr for the cause. But in a world where the wealthy elite had found a way to live forever by colonizing the bodies of those they deemed dispensable, perhaps this was the only choice that truly mattered.

The last thing she saw before impact was a child looking up, eyes widening with the first genuine emotion Maya had seen in this sterile place—a recognition, perhaps, that something was about to change.

In a society that had conquered death, Maya chose mortality—and in doing so, may have finally brought life back to a world that had forgotten what it meant to be human.