Quoted By:
If you ever had a daughter, the girl staring back at you in the mirror would be her. Every feature of your boyhood has been softened with girlish charm, from the golden hair upon your head all the way down to your more delicate feet and toes. Though your new body would have lacked your scars regardless, your flawless snow-white skin and your vibrant purple-blue eyes together almost made you look like a little porcelain doll. Something that you will need to correct with vigorous exercise.
On Earth, your physical prowess rivaled that of the fabled Man of Bronze. The unexpected result in the cloning process has handicapped your body with womanhood, but even so, you refuse to be any less than the pinnacle of what a woman can be.
Now, before you get to business... where the devil can you find some clothes? The <span class="mu-s">Difference Engine</span> will certainly judge your faculties deficient if you barge into the computation room in your starkers!
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Sidhartha Buddha once told the world that the first noble truth is that life is suffering.
Normally you would find such pessimism disagreeable. It is through the perseverance of the human spirit no matter the odds stacked against them that all great things in this world are accomplished. Wallowing in self pity results in nothing but slowly decaying into a corpse. Yet today you cannot help but find yourself agreeing with the Buddha's words.
You could live with a body crippled by womanhood. Though you would never reach the heights of physical ability you achieved on earth, it did not leave you weak and infirm. As well... a woman's beauty was her sword, and could be just as deadly as a machine gun in the right hands. You know every fencing style from the mensur of your homeland to the far-off taijijian of the Orient, so you've little opposition to learning the deadliest blade of your new sex.
What you cannot live with, however, are the judgmental flashes of light coming from the <span class="mu-s">Difference Engine's</span> console.
It thinks it decanted a prostitute! As if you included blood samples from such loose women, riddled with every venereal disease under the sun. Oh, the getup you wear does not help, but it was the only thing that fit! Black women's underwear that you can barely fill out, lined with fur to keep your private bits warm. You turned a spare bedsheet into a cloak for the time being, but you'll need to set the automatives to making you proper clothes eventually.
"Yes, yes, <span class="mu-i">very funny</span>," you roll your eyes as the machine wonders if little girls were your type. "You know better than that, you old bucket of bolts. Do I look like a banker to you? I like my women with some meat on their bones, <span class="mu-i">thank you</span>."
