Lenard wheeled the bioscan modifier over, a sleek, humming device with a glowing aperture. “Right hand, Vernon. Place it inside the cradle.”

Vernon hesitated for only a second. He was standing shirtless, the cool air of the workshop on his skin. Instinctively, his left hand came up to cover and lift the two unfamiliar weights on his chest, a gesture of modesty that felt absurd even as he did it. He slid his right hand into the machine’s opening.

“Steady,” Lenard said, his fingers dancing over a control panel. A thin, translucent bioscan bracelet—Lauren Kerigan’s registered identity—slotted into a port on the machine’s side. “This will sting. Brief deactivation of your old sigil, then imprint of the new one. Try not to jerk.”

A wave of heat, sharp and focused, encircled Vernon’s wrist. It was followed by a piercing sting, like a concentrated insect bite. He gritted his teeth, his left hand tightening reflexively on the soft silicone of the prosthetic breast. He felt a faint pop of sensation, a disconnection. The machine whirred, a cool blue light washing over his skin. The sting returned, deeper this time, a branding. Then it was over. The machine’s hum died down.

“Done,” Lenard announced, retracting the cradle.

Vernon pulled his hand back. On his wrist, the old Freides heir’s bioscan sigil was gone. In its place was a simple, unremarkable band of faintly glowing circuitry—Lauren Kerigan’s life, now his. He flexed his fingers. It looked no different, but the slight, throbbing ache was a phantom reminder of what had been severed.

“Universal identification,” Lenard said, wiping his hands on a rag. “Any port, any dominion checkpoint, any commercial scanner will read you as her. The records will show a living, breathing Lauren Kerigan. As for the hardware…” He gestured at Vernon’s torso. “The Myrden polymers in the bodysuit and the breast forms are x-ray and deep-tissue scan opaque. They’ll project a perfect, biological female silhouette. No hidden skeletal anomalies, no concealed… equipment. The micro-electronics for the waste system and thermal regulation are shielded. A standard metal detector will sing a lullaby as you walk through. You are, for all intents and purposes, a woman named Lauren.”

Vernon barely heard the technical assurances. His attention was pulled toward a full-length mirror mounted in a small, recessed chamber. He walked toward it, his steps still uncertain in his new center of gravity.

He saw …