It's been two weeks.  You might think time would let me convince myself it was a dream.

Time lets the realness sink in. 

Well that and the finger I had sewed back on, see it's all healed up now.  Good as new.  I took a few days of sick leave because how the hell do I explain this at the lab, but a couple days after I got back (Tuesday, Wednesday, I don't know) I was just staring at my hand thinking that one little moment, one stray bullet would be the reason everything came unraveled, and just STARING at it, and it burning into my mind I started, I don't know, sweating? this gel from around the wound, and it sealed up.  And it stopped hurting.  

I took a vial of blood and ran some tests at the lab after hours last night.  I have ten times as many nanites as I should, and they're.. doing.. things now. I can feel them.  

Could this be the road to cure humanity? Disease, injury, frailty, and loss have been what it means to be human for all of history but if this could be refined, made stronger, maybe they don't have to be.  Maybe people can think and plan and act for the long term if they have SKIN in the game. If they'll be AROUND for it. 

Isaac Asimov said any sufficiently advanced technology was indistinguishable from magic. And coin guy promised me magic.  I need to know how far this can go. 

I need more.

I couldn't live with that thing watching me out of Lake Michigan.  I had to get it out of my head.  

Doctor Stephanie Ballard operates a private practice here in the Gold Coast, and she is Worth. every. penny.  Twice a week all damn month it's been, but I can dip my feet in the water again, as long as I don't turn my back.  I hope Diana fares as well, because I could sea it in her eyes, too.  

I keep doing that. 

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I almost got mugged tonight.  It seems laughable with everything I've been through but i was walking home late after therapy, and looking forward to paying Ana a visit when a guy in a worn out jean jacket stepped out of the alley behind me and sept a gun into my back. To be honest my threshold for scary has shifted a few solid levels, but my hands came up anyway, but when I brushed against his skin, I felt a connection.  He swayed on his feet as I jerked away, and started to swing the gun at me like a club.  With intent this time, I met his hand and felt my nanocells connect us, and dig into his flesh. I focused on them and he collapsed, blinking  and afraid but helpless to move against me. I checked the gun and found it wasn't even loaded, but as soon as i broke my attention he tried to stumble awake.  One more touch kept him down, and I slowly explained to him that he could stay till I was out of sight, or things could go significantly worse for him. 

I left a twenty in his pocket. I'm such a softie.

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I attended Vel's commencement, but stayed out of sight in the back. This life shouldn't be intruded on by that one.  This deserves to be a sacred moment, with real family and friends. Not painful reminders of an old man's carelessness.  But I must remember.  

It seems a contractor doesn't get to be clean.  We don't get to walk the highest ground.  Maybe one day when I can share what I've learned with the world I'll be the last monster to die.  Or maybe I'm just being dramatic. 

As a contractor, I'll probably have to hurt someone. I might even have to kill someone. 

But when I act as a healer, a mender, a protector of life.  I must be better than that.  
So I swear by Apollo the physician, and Aesculapius the surgeon, all the gods and goddesses, that I will LEARN to do no harm. 

Let's get to work. 

So sometimes in life you plan things methodically, and sometimes you take the resources you are presented with. 

I'm taking the van.  

Yes, I know, I could absolutely buy a van. I have a car.  But here's the thing.  Contracting is metaphysically lucrative, but as with moth unusually lucrative activities, it's frequently dangerous and questionably ethical or legal.  Buying a vehicle and registering it is a lot of paperwork, and it's been mentioned a few times now that the free trial is almost over and I'm going to have to sort my own transport.  I don't so much want my car associated with whatever mess I get pulled into. to my knowledge, the owners of this vehicle no longer need it and won't be looking for it.  

Now I'm not stupid, that could also make it a point of interest, but the plates are out of state and, well, we know how the contracts go.  I got a spot in a long term garage and paid cash. close to an El stop, so i can get there easily.  I'm gonna let it cool it's wheels for a month or two before I get it patched up.  Leave nothing of mine in it and if someone comes looking for it it doesn't tie back to me. 

Guess I'm that guy now. 

I got a call from Vel today. Diana Foster is dead.

Well, technically she is "missing under suspicious circumstances" but she isn't answering either of our calls.  She disappeared from Pasadena two weeks ago, and hasn't answered either of our calls since. She isn't posting to her gossip groups on Reddit.  Her blog hasn't updated.  

Two plus two.

In my head I knew this could happen. Contractors die. 

We are summoned at the whims of mad gods with arcane agendas to do insane things that are both dangerous and lucrative. 

What's harder to accept is that I couldn't prevent it.  I've worked with a handful of talented people, faced the weird and the wild, and barely scratched the surface of the world I am in now. but somehow I was so arrogant as to believe that I could always be there when someone needed me. that I could by sheer force of will become the panacea of the world. But each contractor is an island.  A ship passing in the dark.  Sometimes we sail together, sometimes we can help one another. 

Sometimes not.

Maybe Vel has the right of it.  Having this work inward isn't going to be enough. I need to understand it. I need to find the source. I need to get these gifts out into the world, not just inside me. 

I should have been doing that all along. 

I'm sorry.

Car gone. 

Accounts a mess.

Drug to safety again. And now I can't even walk straight.  

The neurocranial damage was quite extensive, Doctor. Perhaps this is an appropriate test for the new project?

It's worth a shot.  The parameters look solid to me.  Conversion guidelines that Kev sent me are solid.

His work is impressive for a baseline human. Reconstruction and circuit miniaturization are functionally successful in simulations. 

Ok, Let's go to work. 
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So I found a space to keep the van, and set up a workshop.  Private owner, unattached garage space with power.  The actual workshop is pretty basic.  Laptop (no direct internet connection) with some custom interface hardware, small heated fishtank with growth medium for nanite culturing, an Ifixit kit for opening up cover devices, and a couple of modified 3D printers. It'll do for now. 
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The Nanite cloud, who now identifies as Eliza (perhaps indicating a sense of humor) has assisted me in reprogramming select nanite clusters for specialized tasks. 

They take a while to replicate, so I'm not gonna be spitting stuff like this out every day, but here it is. Mark 1 and 2 versions. Built one into a laptop to take advantage of the greater space available for initial testing but the other is REALLY nice. got it down to the size of a smartwatch, and the thing still works!  Can't get the vacuum energy accumulators to power the regular electronics, though, which is a bummer, but I can get the "enhanced" functions to respond whether the main device is charged or not. Sufficiently advanced, I'd say.

I know just who gets the prototype, too.