Quick Fix

“You’re right, you are all kooks here,” Star sighed. “You know, the copy, it won’t be, well, exactly the same as the real you…”

“According to my doctors, sometime in the next twenty-five years, the quote unquote real me will not be able to do so much as feed himself without assistance. The fact that the backup isn’t going to be exactly the same as me is what I’m counting on. It’s not my first choice, but people change, they grow. I would rather a different version of me be an effective, competent individual than none at all.”

“Fine,” she sighed, and glanced to a chair that seemed to be free of debris. "Sit down, the scanning process is pretty harmless, but it’s best if you sit still, which is hard to do when you’re standing up.

Bran did so, rolling the desk-chair over and sitting down, closing his eyes as Star put her hands on his head.

“Okay, ready or not, here I come.” she sighed., and began the scan. Damage was evident, but that was to be expected with Parkinson’s, and quite simple to compensate for.

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