Jordan Chen

The DesignSpace interface blooms across your vision as the neural link establishes itself. It's unlike any design software you've used in forty years of professional work - the connection is direct, intuitive, responding to thought as much as gesture.

Morgan's current body appears as a wireframe ghost in the center of your vision. Seventy-three years of life mapped in cruel detail: the compression fractures in the spine, the worn cartilage in both knees, the slight tremor in the hands from mild Parkinson's. You can see it all, every indignity time has carved into flesh.

"How does it look?" Morgan asks from across the table, their voice tight with anticipation.

"Like a canvas," you say softly.

The software offers you categories: Height, Build, Musculature, Fat Distribution, Skin, Hair, Face, Genitals, Neural Enhancement, Metabolic Settings. Each branches into subcategories that branch again, fractal choices spiraling down into microscopic detail. You could spend months exploring every option.

But you're an artist. You know the danger of overthinking.

You start with age. The slider goes from apparent-eighteen to apparent-eighty. Morgan wanted sexuality as the foundation - vitality, then. You set it to apparent-twenty-five, that sweet spot where youth still carries weight but maturity begins to show in bone structure.

Height next. Morgan was always self-conscious about being short. You add four inches, bringing them to five-ten. The wireframe stretches, recalculating proportions.

"Are you making me taller?" Morgan asks, watching your eyes move in the patterns the interface creates.

"Yes."

"Good. I always wanted to reach the top shelf."

You smile and continue. Body type - here's where it gets interesting. The software offers presets: Athletic, Voluptuous, Slender, Muscular, Androgynous. But you can customize every aspect. Shoulder width, hip ratio, breast or chest size, muscle definition, body fat percentage.

Morgan's request echoes in your mind. Sexuality as foundation. What does that mean in flesh? What body broadcasts desire and invites it in return?

The technician, a young woman named Aliya Okonkwo, clears her throat from the corner. "Take your time, but remember - you both need to enter the regeneration pods within the hour. The nano-suspension has a limited window."

"How long does the actual process take?" you ask, not looking away from the interface.

"Seventy-two hours in the pods. The nanites break down and rebuild everything at the cellular level. You'll be **** for most of it. When you wake up, you'll be exactly what you've designed."

You return to Morgan's body, hanging in virtual space before you, waiting for your vision to give it form.