Lying in her bed, Morgan Yu stared at the ceiling.
The room was so bright. She felt taken aback at that.
Willing herself into rising, she sat at the edge of her bed. Morgan squinted and shielded her eyes with a hand.
Of course it was bright; the sun was high in the sky, blazing through the glass wall on the other side of her apartment.
That's right, she thought ― this was her apartment. In San Francisco. She lived here.
She frowned at the odd feeling of disorientation. It was like everything around her was somehow unexpected; but that didn't make sense. It was a morning like any other.
Well, other than being her last one here for the near future.
Putting her slippers on, she stood up, considering her condo. The kitchen; the R&R island with its couch, books and gaming setup; her spacious balcony with the breathtaking San Fran skyline; the workbench and computer.
For a moment, she was unsure what to do first. She scratched behind her left ear.
Quickie shower, she finally decided. It took her a surprising amount of time to settle on that one.
Morgan shuffled into the dark bathroom. Her movements felt sluggish, as if she was a fraction of a second out of phase with her body. This was starting to be mildly worrying.
With a start, she realized that she had forgotten to turn on the light. Doing so, she shook her head at her own mess of a mind. Well, at least she made sure not to forget her clothes and a towel. Focus.
She was Morgan Yu, and she could force her own damn brain to cooperate and be minimally functional. Surely.
Drying herself and having dressed for the day, or at least the morning, she tried to figure out what to do next. Breakfast, coffee, messages, neuromod, suit, final goodbye to home. That was the sequence she had settled on.
Then, suddenly, a ringing sound came from the top of her ebony nightstand. Someone was calling her on her TranScribe.
She reached for it, accepting the call.
"Hey Morgan, wake up. You're burning daylight," the amiable voice of Alex, her brother, came through. Her eyes widened as it properly dawned on her just how high the sun was. Damn it, of all the days to be scatterbrained and wrongly set the alarm clock…
"I sent the helicopter to pick you up," Alex continued. "It's just a few tests. Don't forget to wear your suit. See you soon."
Yeah, yeah, Morgan thought. The heli would arrive quickly, which meant she had no time to eat properly and relax some. She cursed inwardly. Instead, she'd just have to pick something to gobble along the way.
But Alex was still on the line. "Oh… listen. I, uh…" he was suddenly awkward, "it's really great you decided to come on board. We're gonna shake things up, Morgan. Like old times."
Yeah. See ya soon, big guy.
Morgan blinked. Alex was right ― it was great. They'd get to work together on mankind's largest and most impressive space station, doing cutting-edge research, expanding the edges of the human mind. Almost literally.
The sky's the limit? Well, she was about to go beyond that sky, into lunar orbit.
They made quite the team, Morgan and Alex.
But first, messages.
Settling before her widescreen workstation, she checked out her emails.
A generic welcome from Thomas Tucker, the Talos HR guy; then Alex's message about the package that had arrived yesterday ― uniform, TranScribe, neuromod; and finally, Alex's update that mom and dad wouldn't be around to see her off. Big surprise, that, she noted sarcastically; she was kind of ambivalent about mom, but when it came to father dearest… well, she certainly wouldn't shed any tears over his absence.
Installing Babby's First Neuromod had been quite the experience when she did it yesterday. Alex had hyped the mod as the bee's knees, gushed how Morgan would love it… but he refused to tell her what it was supposed to do. "Let's make it a surprise. You'll see," he had told her giddily.
So, she was supposed to stick a needle into her eye, without prior experience, alone, with no medical oversight nearby, reconfiguring her mind radically into… something.
A harebrained idea, if she ever heard one.
She was about 73,5 percent sure that Alex did it this way deliberately, the smug bastard, hoping that she'd chicken out at the craziness of it and wait until she was at TranStar with its coterie of experts who could help her along, doing it safely and sanely.
But… this was Alex. He wouldn't screw her over. And she knew how this was supposed to be done, plus she got step-by-step instructions. She was an intelligent woman and could figure it all out.
Also, there was no chance in hell that she'd blink and bow out of a challenge from her brother. She wouldn't give Alex the satisfaction.
Morgan would not be defeated by a neuromod.
So, she had sat on her bed, put a pillow behind her back for maximum stability, relaxed, and stuck the needle into her right eye.
It hurt.
And this, girls and boys, is why your new chief of research happily encourages you to think of new methods of delivery for neural modification, she had thought through gritted teeth.
But the pain was to be expected, and it subsided as the contents were transferred from the container. Fortunately, neuromod containers were designed to stick to one's eye in a stable position.
Some five minutes later, the needle's extraction led to more pain… and then it was over.
Morgan hadn't felt any different afterward. No wild rides across neural galaxies, no changes in thought patterns, no sudden superpowers. Just… nothing. It was almost diasppointing.
Merely some dull pain in her eye. Checking in the mirror, she had noticed that it was bloodshot.
Today, except for just a bit of redness around her iris, her eye was back to its former glory.
It occurred to her that her mental weirdness this morning may be due to some side-effect from Alex's mystery neuromod.
It better not be, or so help me god…
Alex would rue the day.
Now Morgan was facing the red, black and gold TranStar suit hanging from her doorframe.
She took a deep breath. Something about it felt like a rite of passage; this was the uniform she'd be wearing on Talos I from here on forward. A protective jumpsuit that could function as a spacesuit.
Putting it on, she found that it was quite comfortable. It had to be, given that people up there spent their days in these things.
Morgan raided her fridge for a quick sandwich, an energy bar, a bottle of water just in case, a Cafe Karsk can for her morning infusion ― time to get used to Talos edibles ― and, finally, her very own TranScribe. She put them into a practical purse from the wall closet. She wouldn't need the backpack for this.
Another languid breath, as she stood in the open center of her apartment of the past several years.
Before she left, Morgan wanted a final moment with the fresh air on her balcony. She always liked it there, and it was a beautiful day.
The door was stuck.
She gave it a nudge. Then another. Put more force into it. Nothing; it wouldn't budge an inch.
Dammit! She had the urge to slam the glass, but managed to stop herself.
Morgan sighed in frustration. This day sure started ass-backwards. She hoped that the rest of it would make it worth it.
With a pang of regret, she took in her balcony, with its cozy, inviting couch.
Turning, Morgan did a final inspection of the apartment. She made sure that the lights and appliances were off. The perishable food and drinks weren't of concern, as she had arranged for service to take care of those.
The melancholy wasn't so bad, as she had made sure that her suite on Talos I would have just the same layout as her place here. Other than the balcony, of course. Unfortunately, she couldn't have that in space.
Opening the door, Morgan stepped outside into the hallway, then took one last look at the apartment. Nodding, she closed the door, locked it… and went to meet the next stage of her life.