The first sign that something was wrong was the teeth.
Really, there should have been much more warning from up top that what they wanted was more security staff, or so mused Aalto as they spat their old set into the sink one by one. The PherAlarm (copyright 159X Kursibar Consumer-End Solutions) had been second in awakening them to the dull ache of their gumline producing new bone at an impressive rate and letting controlled liquefaction of their (mighty expensive, by the way) former set take hold. They had barely managed to drag themselves to the bathroom door before the first molar broke loose. Every movement was wracked with the burning sensation of base-level genedits. Thrice-damned be the matter, they were very tempted to call HR and tell them that their contract SPECIFICALLY included a clause for fucking ADVANCE NOTICE of any career-related genedits.
Whatever. They were on the corponation's shitlist for that incident with the shifting-antigen-base virus and therefore had to play the game. If they didn't, well, there were more than a few people with grudges and legitimate writs of grievance.
Now, Aalto was a bonafide genius. One of the best gengineers on the market, or so said an article in the Kuruk Herald. It was true. Something about the endless strings of A, T, C, and G (and the equally esoteric naming conventions behind the genes they made up) just made proper sense to Aalto, more so than, say, trigonometry or the social sciences. They could parse the arcana of genomes to produce wonders like the first practical stem cell replacements, or the EverShift™ brand of biological systems that just about every Kursibari worth mentioning had. Even though they had screwed up royally and brought about a small apocalypse with Seltak-Aalto—and really, with how Seltak operated their lab, they should have got strung up from a lamppost instead of this “shared responsibility” and “brood support” stuff—Kursibar kept them on the payroll, such was their importance.
Their rumination on the ceramic tiles was interrupted by one of the most unpleasant noises that they had ever heard coming from within their body. It was a bit like the brittle popping of titanium under pressure, but with a horribly uneven groaning slurp. A stabbing sort of pain filled their eyes as they pulled themselves off of the floor by way of the sink. Their eyes, the ones that they had paid a legitimate clinic for...they had reverted to normal. Their teeth, too, were coming back in as bog-standard human. So it wasn't security, then. They had their shit specifically engineered to look terrifying.
If not security...what the hell was happening to them…?
