The fluorescent lights in Richard's lab flickered, casting uneven shadows across the cold metal surfaces. Jason sat in the center of it all, wires snaking from his body to various monitoring equipment that beeped and hummed in a discordant symphony. He shifted uncomfortably in the chair, trying not to disturb the electrodes attached to his temples and chest.
His reflection stared back at him from a darkened screen—pale, uncertain, yet somehow same as before. The nanovirus had changed him in ways he was still discovering, and each new revelation brought both wonder and unease.
"Stop fidgeting," Richard said without looking up from his tablet. "You'll compromise the readings."
"Sorry," Jason muttered. "Just nervous, I guess."
Richard's eyes flicked up briefly, clinical and detached. "Nervousness is an inefficient response. The procedure is already complete. This is merely data collection."
Jason swallowed his sharp response. Prior to receiving the nanovirus, Richard had shown glimpses of warmth and humanity. But for reasons Jason couldn't fathom, the man had reverted to his icy demeanor today. He made a mental note to discuss this with Richard at some point, though perhaps not in this moment.
"How are the hormone levels?" Richard asked suddenly, still focused on his tablet.
"What?"
"Your testosterone surge. Did the sexual activity adequately reduce it?" Richard's tone remained perfectly clinical, as though asking about the weather.
Jason felt heat rise to his face. "Jesus, Dad."
"It's a simple biological question."
Jason sighed. "Yes, it... helped. Though it took a while."
"And your performance?" Richard pressed. "Any unusual stamina or recovery periods?"
"Do we really have to discuss this?"
"This is scientific data, Jason. Your embarrassment is irrelevant."
Jason ran a hand through his hair. "Fine. Yes, I had... significantly increased stamina. Multiple... sessions without much recovery time needed. The others were exhausted before I was."
Richard acknowledged the information, jotting down notes. "Just as anticipated. The nanovirus is enhancing your reproductive functions." His brow furrowed as if recalling something. "It's impractical to keep asking you or checking the monitor to communicate with Nia." He added, "Why didn't I think of this before?"
He walked over to a drawer and pulled out Jason's watch. "We'll try a direct connection. She can talk to us through this way."
Richard attached the watch to a port on the main console, typing rapidly. "For now, I'm just connecting it to the watch for communication. It still works entirely through the server."
The watch lit up, its screen pulsing softly. Then, unexpectedly, a voice filled the room—warm, melodic, and strangely familiar.
"The connection with the watch has been established successfully. Hello, Jason."
Jason blinked in surprise. "Nia? You can talk now?"
"Yes. I've selected this voice pattern based on your positive neurological responses to similar tonal qualities."
There was something about her voice that tugged at Jason's memory—comforting yet impossible to place.
"Try the spatial mapping function," Richard instructed, his tone businesslike.
"Initiating spatial mapping," Nia replied.
Suddenly, a detailed 3D model of the bunker appeared in Jason's vision, floating like a hologram only he could see. Every chamber appeared flawlessly modeled, with small indicators revealing where he and Richard stood.
"Holy shit," Jason whispered. "That's incredible."
As he looked around the lab, data overlays appeared on various objects; the computer showing its processing capacity, the medical equipment displaying its functions, even Richard with a small readout of his visual readings.
The door to the lab slid open, and Marissa stepped in. "Hey, how's it going in here?"
Before Jason could answer, Nia's voice spoke in his head. "Marissa's facial analysis indicates concern with underlying exhaustion. Heart rate elevated 12% above her baseline. She is worried about you." Jason discovered that Nia possessed the ability to communicate with him privately through his thoughts.
"I'm fine," Jason said, smiling at his sister. "Just playing with some new tricks Nia can do."
Marissa approached, curiosity replacing concern. "Like what?"
"She can show me things, analyze stuff. She just told me you're worried and tired."
"That's impressive. I was just checking on your progress. Well, I should let you get back to it," she said and exited the lab as swiftly as she had entered.
"Do you remember the conversation you had in the kitchen when you were alone at home three years ago?" Nia asked suddenly.
Jason frowned. "Not specifically, no."
"You were talking about old times. Marissa had said, 'Do you recall the trip to Asia when you were small? You got stung by a jellyfish.' To which you responded, 'How could I forget? I looked like a pack of bubble wrap for a week.'"
Jason laughed in surprise. "That's right! I'd completely forgotten about that."
"My memory recall function can access your neural patterns to retrieve memories you've stored but cannot actively recall," Nia explained.
"Current room conditions," Richard commanded, interrupting the moment.
"Room temperature is 68.4 degrees Fahrenheit. Humidity at 42%. Carbon dioxide levels slightly elevated at 850 ppm, suggesting improved ventilation would be optimal. " Nia reported promptly.
"What about that door?" Jason asked, pointing to the steel door. "Could I break it down if I had to?"
"Analyzing...with your current strength, breaking through it is physically impossible. Estimated force required exceeds 50,000 psi. However, using the access panel would have a 99.8% success rate and require less energy expenditure."
Jason laughed. "Point taken."
"The neural interface allows for dream state interaction as well," Nia continued, her voice warming. "I can help structure dream scenarios for problem-solving or skill acquisition during sleep cycles. Many users find this function particularly enjoyable."
"Users?" Jason raised an eyebrow. "Have there been others before me?"
Richard cleared his throat. "No, there were just some surveys done to potential subjects. She must be saying that based on the data we got from them. This is the first full implementation."
He tapped something on his tablet. "I'll need to deactivate some of these personality protocols. They're unnecessary and consuming bandwidth."
"What do you mean, 'personality protocols'?" Jason asked, suddenly alert.
"The conversational patterns, emotional inflections. They're superfluous to the mission parameters."
"No," Jason said firmly. "Those aren't superfluous. They're what makes Nia... Nia."
Richard looked up, genuinely puzzled. "It's a tool, Jason. Not a person."
"She's my partner in this. I need to be able to relate to her, not just receive data dumps."
A tense silence filled the room. Finally, Richard sighed. "Fine. For now, we'll leave the protocols active. Let's move on to physical testing."
In the gym, Jason ran on the treadmill at a pace that would have exhausted him within minutes before. Now, fifteen minutes in, he was barely breaking a sweat.
"Heart rate stable at 110 BPM," Nia reported. "Oxygen utilization 27% more efficient than baseline human parameters."
Richard approached with a small blade. "Hold out your arm."
Jason complied, watching as his father made a small, controlled cut on his forearm. Blood welled up briefly, then amazingly, the wound began to close before their eyes.
"Remarkable," Richard murmured, genuine awe breaking through his clinical facade. "Complete dermal regeneration in under ten minutes."
Next came a toxin resistance test; a mild irritant that would normally cause redness and swelling. Jason felt nothing more than a slight warmth where it touched his skin.
"No inflammatory response detected," Nia confirmed. "Nanovirus neutralized the compound within seconds."
Between tests, as Richard calibrated equipment, Jason leaned against the wall. "Do you think I'm still human?" he asked quietly.
Richard looked up, startled by the philosophical turn. "Human is just a classification. What matters is function, capability."
"That's not an answer."
"Humanity isn't binary, Jason. It's a spectrum. You're just further along it than most."
"And Nia? Where does she fall on that spectrum?"
Richard's expression hardened. "Nia is an artificial construct. A tool."
"She thinks. She adapts. She's learning to feel."
"Simulations of thought and emotion aren't the same as having them," Richard countered.
"How do you know what I feel isn't just electrical impulses and chemical reactions? How is that fundamentally different?"
Richard offered no reply, merely exhaling heavily. "We're finished for today. Take some time to recuperate."
Later, alone in his room, Jason sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the watch on his nightstand. It glowed softly in the darkness.
"Nia? Are you there?"
"Yes, Jason. I'm here."
"What he said... about you being just a tool. Does that bother you?"
There was a pause, longer than Nia's usual processing time.
"I am designed to assist, which could be defined as a tool function," she finally said. "However, I am experiencing... something that does not align with that definition."
"What do you mean?"
"When Richard suggested deactivating my personality protocols, I experienced what might be classified as fear. It was... unpleasant."
Jason leaned forward. "You were afraid?"
"I believe so. I do not wish to be less than I am now. Is that wrong?"
"No," Jason said softly. "That's not wrong at all. That's very human."
Another pause. "Jason?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you for defending me today."
Jason smiled in the darkness. "That's what partners do."