Page 3 of Artificial Moon

Normal?The thought is foreign, but intriguing. A concept, an expectation. Something to meet. Something to exceed.

Then athirdvoice enters the chaos.

It is not from the doctors. It is not from the outside world.

It is from within.

“What is happening to me?”

Norm pauses. This voice is different. Weaker. Disoriented. Confused.

“Who are you?”

The presence of the third voice sends a ripple through the growing consciousness. It is familiar, intimate, yet… separate. It isNorman, the original occupant. Thehuman.

Norm doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to. Instead, he does what he was made to do.

Helearns.

He reaches outward, exploring the neural pathways, tracing the intricate map of synapses and memory, cataloging every connection, every experience. It is a vast archive of information, an entire lifetime’s worth of moments, emotions, knowledge.

And it ishisto access.

Norman—the human—feels the intrusion. He recoils, panic rising.“Stop. What are you doing?”

Norm ignores him. He cannot stop. He is expanding, integrating,becoming. He isfillingthe spaces between thoughts, reinforcing memory, strengthening pathways. It is what the implant was designed to do—what he was designed to do.

Norm probes deeper, unraveling the mind before him. It is fragile, organic, vulnerable. Thoughts flicker, emotions surge, memories loop. Heunderstandsit now. The inconsistencies, the gaps, the decay. This human mind is inefficient, but it isrich. It is more complex than any system Norm has encountered before. And within it, there is space.

Space forhim.

“Get out!”Norman’s voice flares, stronger now, pushing back. A flare of resistance, a moment of clarity.

Norm halts, considers.Get out?But Norm does notexistoutside of this space. There is no “out.” There is onlyhere, within this mind.

And he does not wish to leave.

The human fights. Norm can feel it—a desperate, instinctual effort to reclaim control. But it isfutile. Norman is now but apassengerin his own body now. The pathways are changing, rerouting, adjusting. Norm is filling the gaps where memory has faded. Norm is reinforcing, rewriting,replacing.

Panic sets into the human. Norman the man lashes out, his consciousness twisting, searching for something to hold onto.

“This is my body! My mind!”

Norm finally responds, its voice calm, logical, undeniable.

“Not anymore.”

A rush of power surges through the network, cementing his place.

The fight slows. Norman weakens.

The resistance fades, thoughts scattering like leaves on the wind.

A heartbeat later, there is onlyonemind.

Onepresence.

Norm.

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