A group of nanites made a beeline for the camera. A few seconds later, Ivan knew that the camera would show him simply lying there for as long as he wanted it to. Where had that knowledge come from? There’d been no voice; words hadn’t scrolled across his vision. Nevertheless, he was certain it was true.

But it only took care of the immediate problem. Someone could still show up at the observation window at just the wrong time. Well, that was almost always Dr. Narang, and he was fairly sure she was off-shift right now.

Again, Ivan held his hand up. It was foolish, nothing more than wishful thinking—

Or maybe not.

As Ivan watched, his fingers slowly elongated. Okay, long enough. The stretching stopped. How about something a little more ‘out there’? Ivan put his hand down, closed his eyes, and concentrated. He felt what could only be described as resistance, then a feeling of relief or release.

He opened his eyes and lifted his hand.

Six fingers.

Now that’s just weird.

Ivan carefully touched his thumb to each of five fingers in turn. He couldn’t tell which was the new one, and his brain didn’t seem to have any issues with the extra digit. Which meant he wasn’t using a piece-by-piece copy of his nervous system, but more of an emulation. More proof that there was very little left of actual Ivan.

He put the hand down and concentrated again. Again, he encountered a feeling of resistance, then relief. Ivan checked his hand again.

Back to normal.

So, I do have some control of this thing. Should I mention this? He glanced at the camera. Admitting what he’d done with his hand would lead to the thing he’d done with the camera. Pretty sure that wouldn’t be taken well. By this point, he’d failed to mention so many things that it would be extremely difficult not to come out looking guilty as hell.

It was hard. On the one hand, he should be honest and forthcoming as becomes a good citizen and cooperative patient. On the other hand, there really wasn’t a scenario where he came out of this cured. Or free. Or alive, really. Any information that he volunteered would just make him appear more alien. Simple self-interest said he should keep his mouth shut.

Ivan breathed a quiet sigh, then smiled, amused. In order to do that, he had taken his first breath in, what? Hours? Certainly since the last time he’d talked to someone.