Ivan barely heard the sound of the door closing.

* * *

“And squeeze again?”

Ivan squeezed the bulb as instructed, while Dr. Kemp watched the pressure gauge. Dr. Kemp had asked him to undergo a physical, and Ivan figured it might distract him.

The doctor had that skill that physicians seemed to cultivate everywhere—the same noncommittal “mm, hmm” on each test that gave no indication of whether he’d aced it or was about to die.

Finally, the doctor looked up from his tablet. “It’s interesting. Your strength is considerably increased. I’m lucky you didn’t actually break a couple of my devices. You red-lined a couple of measurements. Reflexes are faster, but not inhumanly so. I think that’s going to continue to improve as the, uh, transformation continues.”

“S’okay, Doc. I get it. I’m not happy, of course, but I’m probably not going to die. I actually feel pretty good, physically.” Ivan held up his arm and flexed it. “I used to have twinges with my elbow sometimes. Old football injury. It’s completely gone. So there’s some upside, I guess.”

Kemp turned and picked up a blood collection kit. “I can’t take this from the usual locations, obviously. I’ll try to be gentle.” The doctor swabbed Ivan’s pectoral muscle, then held up the needle. “Ready?”

Ivan nodded, and the doctor collected a blood sample. It hurt like a sonofabitch, but Ivan found himself not minding. It might be one of the last human sensations he would ever experience.

Finally finished, the doctor sat back and crossed his legs. “So how do you feel otherwise, Ivan? Any other symptoms, issues? Concerns?”

“Like I said, I feel great, physically.” Ivan looked at the ceiling for a moment. “What I’m really worried about…” He took a moment to get his voice under control. “What I’m really worried about is whether I’ll still be there when the process is complete. Will it be me? Or will there be an alien something looking out of my eyes? Will it remember being me? Will it even care?” Ivan squeezed his eyes then looked at the doctor. “Am I ever going to see my family again? Is there any version of this where I end up going home?”

Dr. Kemp was silent for several seconds. “I wish I had an answer for you, Ivan. We’re all out of our depth, here.”

The doctor took a marking pen from a drawer. “If you don’t mind, Ivan, I want to track the conversion.” At Ivan’s nod, Kemp made a series of regularly spaced marks on Ivan’s torso, starting from the point where metal met flesh. He then added numbers, starting from zero.

“That’s exactly the kind of obsessive attention to detail that I can appreciate, Doc. I just wish it wasn’t me being measured.”