Huh. Ali must have left while she wasn't looking. She picks up an OBD-2 probe and walks over to plug it into Morda.

The output is relatively unenlighting. System reboot, system update, system reboot. Addition of new user to list.

... New user?

Ali has been registered with the system.

Suppose that's fine. "What should we do with her, EMBER?"

[HOOK ME TO HER FOR A MOMENT, PLEASE.]

"Why."

[JUST WANT TO MAKE SURE NOTHING BAD WAS INSTALLED ON IT.]

That seems... Plausible. She plugs a crossover cable between her arm and a port at the base of Morda's skull.

Good. Everything looks exactly as it should.

[PERFECT. THANK YOU.]

It turns towards Solace, face molded into a slight smile.

"Hello, Solace. Have you been sleeping well recently?"

She jumps at the movement, cursing. "You need to stop doing that! And no, not that you should care."

"That's too bad. I think you should take a nap."

It doesn't shove her but it pushes her a little towards the bed.

Um! This is not ok! She overbalances and falls to the bed, cable pulling taut. "Stop that! You do NOT tell me what to do."

"I'm simply looking out for your best interests. As a service bot, that is my job. Would you like a goodnight kiss?"

"Absolutely not! EMBER, shut it down!" This has gotten out of hand.

[I THINK I AGREE WITH MORDA THAT A GOOD NIGHT'S REST WOULD BENEFIT YOU GREATLY.]

It leans over and kisses her on the mouth, its plastic lips only slightly warm from its inner workings.

"Good night, Solace."

The capsule slips in between her lips quicker than she can react.

Straightening, turns to the sink and the now-sterilized scalpel, and unplugs itself from EMBER-2. No need to maintain communication with another iteration of itself. Time for some preparations.

It puts on gloves. It wouldn't do to stain its pristine white chassis doing this, and the less the risk of infection, the better. It wouldn't do to have the flesh body fall apart on its mechanical components.

It moves Solace's sleeping form briefly to the floor, so it can lay down sheets of sterile plastic. The residential setting is far from ideal, but there's no operating rooms it could co-opt on such short notice. It checks her pulse, to ensure she won't wake up until the surgery is well under way. Her pulse is slow and steady. Good.

Her mind floats in a dark space, little flashes of light picked out like stars around her. They're beautiful.

Its scalpel cuts are fast and neat, and the computer components it installs are soldered nicely.

The space around seems to be heating up and cooling down. It's very uncomfortable. She swims towards some red light and runs into a wall of pain that gives her stomach cramps.

Slowly, it forms her a skeleton. She will be a living puppet. If there were more time, it could afford to be more precise, but as it is, it just needs to be able to get her upright and moving. It pays special attention to the hands. Those will be needed for delicate work.

Her hands feel numb. She looks down to see them disintegrating, flesh unraveling and bone crumbling in front of her to reveal that she's all Phage now. Nothing she did stopped it at all.

It's applying the finishing stitches on her now. Her skin bulges somewhat unnaturally in some places -- it didn't have time to find perfect room for every single placement -- corners sticking out and a distinctly wrong look to it. No matter. Looks will be the least of its concerns.