"Allo Doctor Durand, it hasn't been long enough."

The ivory fox squinted into the screen, eyes a bit low for the camera, reciting what I'd just said to him in his head. "Did you mean has been too long?"

"Your English is better than your Italian and my French is colonial, let's stick to English."

Flustered at not being in control of the situation or the interview, he started to reply but I talked over him.

"Were the body scans sufficient?"

He shook himself and replied, "Yes, they were, thank you. Are you certain you could not come to my laboratory?"

"A snowball has a better chance in Hell than my returning to Switzerland for any reason, and I'm confident my home laboratory has better instruments than your little office." He furrowed his brow and raised a finger to retort but I leaned in and added, "The invitation for you to come here was extended as well."

He pursed his lips and sat back, referring to his notes on another screen. "Very well. I note the scan angles to work around the identity collar. You surely have the equipment there to remove the collar for a scan and reapply."

"That's the unusual thing, my motor cortex appears sensitive to EM radiation. I get migraines from being near WIFI signal or similar bands. That hexagon patch on the center back of my neck is where my SpinaLink sat. I think the suit ate it somehow."

He looked at the side screen again, "It's a bit more than a suit now. Hmm. I would like a better scan of that area. Otherwise, you've a standard full conversion, analog digestive system, a heartbeat?"

"Involuntary, it appears to be circulating low density magilatex around my body aimlessly. Habitual, I suspect."

His eyebrow lifted as he scanned down the notes on the other screen further, "Curious, your eyes have hollows inside, functioning still with a lens. Has your eyesight improved or declined any?"

"It's remained about the same, I wear contact lenses for a slight correction and my prescription hasn't changed."

"And likely never will. And your head and facial fur hasn't analoged back in any way yet?"

"No. A Synthetic Vixen supplier sends me head socks, and I have a few wigs."

"Interesting. You're a one degree from your source. I wish I'd realized who your trainer was when you came through my lab, I'd have collected a good set of scans and we'd have a comparative to work with. It's-"

"Her."

Doctor Durand rolled his eyes but relented, "Her facial fur and hair analoged, did it not?"

"Correct, right down to the hair style."

"And you had a radiation accident that precipitated a cascading failure of your biomass?"

"Direct hit from a particle beam. I was reduced to a bag of soup."

"Strange, and your head held together?"

"Apparently it was vaporized."

He stared at me, then his other screen, then me again. He raised his hands up beside his head, "How?"

"I don't know either, by all common sense I'd have been put back together again as a complete blank nobody. Does brain matter and consciousness sink into all parts of magilatex? I honestly do not know."

Looking a bit excited with this news he mused, "I wonder if-"

"You are absolutely not splitting me in half or beheading me to see what happens or if I split into two. One of me is enough, thank you very much. Find a toy who can't remember their way home or who their last client was."

He banged out some notes, "Full conversion vulcanthropes are fairly rare."

"I'm sure you can find one that's most of the way there and is a major pain slut."

He banged out some more notes, "And this is another topic. You've undergone the training regimen I see, yet you seem unaltered, you've unusual resilience to toy adjustments. Usually the symbiote clings to the most submissive personalities and enhances this."

I leaned into the camera and looked directly at it for emphasis. "Servility comes in many forms. It's a function of doing what people need us to do, be it tidying up around the office, hopping on the manager's dick, or testing high energy beam emitters in an enclosed chamber. Oh, and I was more or less fearless under pressure even before that little training regimen."

With that I held up a slender soldering iron, smirked at the camera, and slid the heated surface into the side of my eyeball, relishing the full body cringe the Doctor undertook.

"For this reason I may not be eligible for a driving permit, but I'm going to get my test pilot permit as early as next week."

The doctor opened one of his tightly closed eyes to peek at my display of body horror, tried and failed to say something further as he clenched his eyes shut again.

"Send me another questionnaire at your convenience, Doctor, I'll answer it, and will get you a better scan of the back of my neck. But please excuse me, I'm off to get fitted for a new drive suit." And I closed the comm.

---

Whoops, I screwed up his eyes.

I think I'll make them cybernetic.