Misaka OS 1.2.4 installed successfully, I realized a moment later.

It's one thing to recognize the newly formed transcriptions in my head, it's another to acknowledge the massive wealth of information directly written into my brain.

I couldn't even call them memories either, because they just weren't tied to reality.

Everything locomotive-based was rammed into my head with a machine-like finesse that excluded context or a sensible sequence of events. It lacked memories, hardcoded with emotionless precision, catalogued into tidy file compartments. Things related to how to move my limbs to how to tie a shoe, or even to how to disassemble, clean, reassemble a bullpup assault rifle.

As I understood it, Misaka OS 1.2.4 worked almost like a self-operating computer, hosting a list of actions and files.

Somehow, I knew instinctively that this was installed into my brain and was at least partially responsible for my thought processes.

Glancing around, I noticed my own unfamiliar, naked body. Too long hair, still wet with the embryonic fluid that clung to my shoulders. My hands and wrists appeared too small and delicate to belong to me, but my OS told me that particular effect was likely a possible side effect of upload errors. The data proportions simply needed to be readjusted through movement practice.

I realized that I was lying on a bed, housed inside of a glass tube. People stood outside, looking in.

'Researchers.' My OS supplied.

I examined further, noting the white lab coats and of medical equipment that was waiting for me outside. But what caught my attention the most was the identical looking glass pod nearby and the inhabitant within.

There was a naked girl in there, lying down on a bed very similar to my own, observing her surroundings as if just waking up herself.

We made eye contact.

"...Get them synced." I didn't care for the words. Had I paid attention, I would have noticed that he was speaking in Japanese whereas I shouldn't have been able to understand.

The only thought in my mind was about that girl lying a few feet away.

Flashes of recognition flooded my head with memories of a crying long-haired Misaka on a screen. It was just moments before she was put through the Testament machine that would install her personality data.

'Clones.' My memory named them, 'Sisters.'

The glass tube opened, allowing me the freedom to get out. I took the initiative, my feet quickly made contact with the floor.

Unlike myself, the Sister didn't make a move as soon as the pod opened for her.

"Can you hear me?" One of the researchers asked.

"Yes, Misaka affirms." The clone said.

My head bounced up and down.

"Then please stand up." That same researcher ordered.

I covered myself, unsure what to do with my hands. I didn't particularly care, this cloned body not being my own, but it was still a decency matter. I could've at least given the Original Misaka the least bit of privacy by not enabling random researchers a form of proxy voyeurism.

Unfortunately, the effect was ruined somewhat as the other, identical Sister stood in place, unbothered by the stares.

The researchers here were all women, presumably for obvious reasons. Did they have any idea what these Sisters were being made for? Were only the top aware of the actual project details?

It finally dawned on me, 'Oh wait, I'm a clone too.'

I never panicked, despite intellectually understanding that I should have at least been distressed by my experience. I found it bizarre just how little I actually cared about the fact. I seemingly lacked a sense of urgency for some unfathomable reason.

Instead, I took my circumstances at face value and waited to see what would come of it.

"Now, step towards each other. Join hands."

I followed the orders, joining hands with my fellow Sister. There was a brief tingle where our hands touched. Nothing happened.

"Chiang? Was that supposed to do something?" A different voice asked.

Chiang(?) answered her, "No. This is simply the 'handshake' procedure. Since their brainwaves have been synced through the Testament, it should only be a matter of making a new network connection. Their powers will allow this to work automatically, but touching speeds up the process."

"I see."

I blinked, absorbing this new information as well. The Sister gave me an emotionless stare, betraying nothing as to what she was thinking about this development. I didn't see how we were supposed to be connected.

Chiang checked her watch, "Alright. It's time. Misaka 2, you come with me. Misaka 1, you follow Doctor Kusakabe to the preparation room."

I stared at the brown-haired woman, Kusakabe, then at Chiang, who was already walking away. I had no idea who she was talking to or who I was supposed to follow.

Thankfully, my Sister seemed to know what number she had been assigned at birth because she shortly began to follow after Chiang.

That left me with Doctor Kusakabe.

"Ready to get going?"

I simply nodded my head.

[]

A/N: I like self-insert stories. I like the sisters arc. I've read and exhausted every story that combines the two, or least the general idea of 'character becomes clone.' So for better or worse, I decided to try this premise myself. This story was written to provide a different view/new context for the Sisters using a SI/OC as the catalyst.