Documentation

"I should record a video for myself!" she said. "Advice for the new me!"

"Jeez, you make it sound like you're dying," Chris muttered. He pulled out his phone and held it up to take a video.

"Oh Ada Prime is long gone," she giggled. "At least I can do a pretty good impression."

"Well, that's pretty fucking bleak." Chris lowered the phone. "You're at least kind of still her, right? Physically, less than a tenth of a gram of your body weight was affected. Ada can't just be fucking gone!"

"I did a little reading about that. I am and I'm not Ada; as you said, by weight I'm over 98% Ada. And I'm still her, just different."

Before Chris could respond, she took on a stern countenance and spoke in a completely different tone. "You piece of shit."

Her eyes narrowed and she advanced. "Look at the fucking slut you turned me into," she growled, her gaze icy. "Then you ask her if she's me? As of she hasn't rehearsed that role her whole fucking life?"

Chris began to stammer. "I- uh, I've...um-"

Then she snorted. Her nose crinkled and burst into laughter, putting an arm over his shoulder like a college buddy. "Chris, I'm- I'm sorry, but your face..."

"You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

She wiped a tear off her cheek and looked at him. "I'm sorry, dude. But I wanted to make a point. I'm still functionally her! This whole brain and body has developed over half a lifetime. I still think like her, just with a sort of filter applied. If you want me to act like I used to, I can do it perfectly."

Chris sighed. "Would that make you take this seriously?"

"You really want that?" Ada asked, and he nodded. Instantly her smile vanished and her face creased with anxiety. "Chris, I'm so sorry... I can't believe I treated this whole thing like a- a- like a big fucking joke!"

Chris rolled his eyes. "So now I'm forcing you to pretend to take this seriously? I didn't-"

"I'm not pretending," she said glumly. "You want me to actually care, so I do. Geez, I didn't really think about how depressing this is. I lost my individuality, and I can't even want it back."

"What do you mean, you can't want it back?" Chris asked. "They're gonna figure out a treatment."

"And every impulse I have is screaming at me to grasp at that straw, I just... I hope it never happens. It's very disorienting, feeling this wall between what I know I should want and what I actually want. Can I make a suggestion? I think you'll have an easier time if I stop being so serious."