Upgrade - Nectar
[Let me introduce it.] A new implant lay before me.
Implant - Nectar.
Nectar, from Greek mythology—the drink served at the gods' feasts. It's said to grant humans divine power and immortality. But for mortals who drink it and become gods, they must consume it periodically to maintain their divinity.
"So this is going to replace my blood production from now on?"
That's right. Injections every time would be such a hassle.
Reborn in the efficiency-obsessed 21st century, this nectar is permanent.
"Feels kinda weird."
Nothing like the nerves I felt before the accelerator implant procedure.
Something not to your liking?
"Not exactly dislike..."
She seemed to have anticipated my reaction.
Let me guess.
A hyper-realistic 3D image appeared on the screen in front of me. Against a backdrop of churning waves, a ship was docked at a pier—a galley ship with elegant sails, a sturdy wooden hull built to withstand rough seas, and countless oars. I was boarding it, dressed in ancient Greek attire and sandals that actually suited me pretty well. In the video, I stood midway on the gangplank connecting the pier to the ship, looking back this way. That was the source of my unease. And I realized what she wanted to say.
"The Ship of Theseus."
Correct.
If you replace rotten planks, torn sails, and such one by one during a grueling voyage, eventually every part will have been swapped out. At that point, can you still call it the same ship as the original? The Ship of Theseus—a staple of philosophical debates and pop culture. And here I was, standing at its threshold.
"The accelerator implant didn't bother me much. It augmented my neural network rather than replacing it. But this one..."
It's fundamentally different. In a way, replacing blood—something far more meaningful than limbs—is a complete overhaul.
You can be honest. Are you scared?
Artemis's voice was gentle.
"I don't know. Or rather, yeah, I think I am."
To be precise, I couldn't gauge the scale of the fear. No clue how I'd feel once this procedure was done.
It's not just the blood. Every expedition from here on, every tech we acquire—it'll all reflect in your body. Your original flesh and blood will gradually diminish.
"Diminishing flesh and blood? That's a scary way to put it."
Artemis prefers blunt expressions. She's not the type to hold a syringe in front of a crying kid and say, "It won't hurt much." She states the exact measured pain value and jabs it in.
Your body already replaces over 300 billion cells a day on average. New cells take the place of the dead ones. Over 80% are blood cells. The blood you're hesitating to replace is the easiest part to swap out.
She was aiming to reframe my perception of blood itself.
"But that blood is still produced by me, right? My body. Made by the organs I was born with."
I shrugged.
"Though we're about to yank 'em out now."
Good. Then think of it this way: Depending on the calculation, your entire body replaces 100% in as little as three months or up to eighteen. You knew that, right?
"I figured it'd all turn over eventually, but I didn't realize the cycle was that fast."
Even so, the new parts are still made by my original organs—that hasn't changed.
Do you love your parents?
Sudden curveball.
"Parents whose faces I don't even know? The ones who dumped me as a newborn at an orphanage? Love them?"
Not even a little. Even in this wrecked world, I'd never once wondered if they were alive or dead.
Yeah. You don't. Beyond not loving them, you're 68.1% indifferent and 31.9% angry.
I hadn't answered directly, but she'd gleaned it from my tone, expression, and other bodily cues.
If you don't love them, and thus don't ascribe meaning to the physical legacy they passed on? All that's left is your mind. Your memories, thoughts, beliefs. Even with an artificial body, those won't change.
Straight talk, textbook philosophy.
The body's transformation happens naturally anyway. The question is who your partner is in that process.
Artemis paused. Even with her insane processing power, she was mulling over the crucial part, refining her words.
From now on, I'll be the one filling your body with new flesh and blood. Not the genes from parents who never knew your name or face, never loved you. Can't you think of it that way?
Artemis appeared on the screen's ship, perched on the mast with sails billowing in the wind, gazing down at my video self. Not her usual sleek outfit or white lab coat—instead, Greek-style women's garb and sandals, swinging her feet just like me.
Reborn every moment by my touch. Into something healthier, superior.
My video self looked up at her, our avatars locking eyes.
In a way, we're both like that ship. You're flesh crafted to carry genetic info. I'm inorganic, built to carry science.
Her video self leaped gracefully from the mast, landing at the ship's entrance.
Someday, I'll upgrade to more advanced hardware too. But what's inside me will remain the same. Just like you.
Artemis extended a hand toward my hesitant video self midway on the gangplank.
Let's go together.
Her voice, as always, beautiful. But this time, it carried something special—something she'd never infused in her tone before.
Temptation.
The ship video faded, replaced by her face. An expression I'd never seen.
Come with me, Jinsu.
I'd misunderstood. She wasn't trying to convince me to go through with the procedure.
She was seducing me into it.
"..."
In that moment, expeditions, infected battles, faceless parents, philosophical qualms about my continuity—none of it filled my head.
How could I refuse?
The procedure was a success. The implant had taken root inside me, producing advanced blood and circulating it throughout my body.
How do you feel?
"Awful."
Honest truth.
"Can't feel great with nearly ten tubes stuck in me."
I was hooked up to transfusion lines all over my upper body for the exchange. Half drained blood out, half pumped it in. The outgoing blood was the stuff causing adverse reactions. The incoming was a clone of my blood, made with tech from Blood Pack, tailored to me. This implant overhauls blood production and circulation from the ground up. Can't just swap and call it done. Even the neural upgrades from the accelerator had me tossing and turning for nights from overactive nerves. Same deal—painful adaptation period ahead.
It'll suck, but hang in there. The benefits once the advanced blood settles are huge.
As she said, the post-procedure enhancements were numerous. Top of the list: endurance. Soon, I'd run a marathon at sprinter speed. Coagulation and hemostasis in seconds after injury. Rare on ground ops, but I'd resist blackouts and redouts from blood pooling. The implant packed neural drugs, dispensing combat-needed chems on demand. For severe wounds where pain hampers movement, analgesics via bloodstream to block it out.
Blood-based infectious diseases blocked at the source too.
Artemis showed microscope footage: contaminants invading normal cells, shredded to bits.
"Safe from infected too?"
That's infected reaction test footage. Forced their tissue against normal cells infused with advanced blood. Result: total immunity, as you saw.
Then came the waiting game. Every moment, clashing blood generated, full-body turnover—the unpleasant sensation tormented me. Not pain, so no analgesics. Needed distraction to focus elsewhere.
The AI ladies jumped in.
Chloro's was herbal therapy.
"Breathe it in deep."
Entering her herb garden, she held a bundle she'd grown and blended right under my nose. A fireworks show exploded in my sinuses—smelling with my brain, not just nose. Blooming flower fields, bees rolling in pollen, warm sun pouring down—it all painted my mind. Painkillers numb body but not mental discomfort, right? Scent nailed it. Couldn't mute the bad blood's unease, but turned it way down. From nails-on-chalkboard horror to distant bee buzz.
"Thanks. Much better."
Chloro held a basket brimming with fresh herbs, gazing at me lovingly, pityingly.
"Put this by your head when you sleep. It'll help tonight."
Kids greeted me.
Welcome, Manager. Hurts a lot, huh?
She'd edited Shelter resident life clips.
Gathered fun incidents among residents lately.
Hydroponics workers, group exercises, park chats—folks with minor mishaps. Watering crops and drenching themselves, ball to the face, spilling food on shirts. Trivial fails, tiny laughs. Comic slices of everyday life I'd thought gone forever. All so normal.
I stared blankly, forgetting the blood churning unpleasantly in me. Felt like the pre-infection world, where everything was normal.
I looked at Kids wordlessly.
Don't look at me... Breaks your focus? The pain comes back then.
I stroked her head. She stayed still, obedient.
Rose's gift: VR hunt sim. Couldn't move much during exchange, so cyber invite. Savanna-grassland-forest edge. Birds chirping, leaves rustling, distant beast roars. Lush green everywhere. Even here, Rose approached in suit, black stockings, heels. Crunch of twigs underfoot.
"Here."
Rose handed me a hunting rifle. Click.
"Bolt-action, huh?"
After expeditions with autos, felt awkward.
"Autos are cheating for hunting."
She smiled. I followed her lead through dense woods. Crossed streams, spotted crayfish under mossy rocks, tracked deer prints watering there.
"Here."
Guided by her hand, I hid in brush. Deer herd grazing ahead.
"They haven't spotted us yet."
Tearing eyes from her straining stocking thighs to the herd took willpower. Adventure in nature—thrilling, fun. Promised Rose more hunts, logged off VR.
Something you need to see.
Finally, Artemis showed the special one: a tall, transparent glass tube, big enough for two people. Filled about 70% with red blood.
"This is?"
Blood, as you see. Specifically, advanced blood like what's flowing in you.
"A clone of mine?"
Based on yours, yes. But too many changes to call it a mere clone.
The blood in the tube rippled, defying gravity, crawling into a human-like shape. Just coagulated red blood, yet mimicking a human form.
A woman's, precisely. Waist-length hair, full breasts, slim waist, bursting hips, artistically sculpted thighs and legs.
I knew that silhouette. No skin, bones, nerves—just a blob of blood. But the hair shape, breast size and curve. Enough to recognize. Seen it countless times on Shelter screens, monitors, holograms.
"It's you, Artemis..."
Her laughter echoed. And if I wasn't imagining, the blood-formed her in the tube smiled too.