Project A.N.E.W

A buxom, young blond woman lies strapped to a near-vertical steel table, naked and unconscious, within a secret military facility.

She is stunning, and uncannily similar to a butterfly pinned to an examination board. There is a neural net over her head, and her eyelids flutter.

Around her is a small lab. To her left is a real window with rain running down it, looking out over Terra, and to her right, a bench; cluttered with technology.

'Have you finished the programming yet?' Asks a middle aged man, to a woman in a white lab coat.

'Nearly,' she answers. Her hair is brown, and pulled back in a neat tie. 'It'll take me a couple more hours, but should be done by morning. It's different than unlocking sleeper memories.'

The General nods to himself. He has short, greying hair and a lean build. 'Good.'

He turns to leave.

The woman hesitates. 'General?'

He turns back to face her, an eyebrow raised. 'Yes?'

It is late, and they both know he's looking forward to heading home.

She stumbles onwards, '...Is what we're doing here really that different from The Syndicate? I mean, compared to their illegal cloning?'

The man sighs. 'This is why I wish your expertise didn't require you to know the missions, Rebecca. You of all people should know that legality is what makes it different. That'—he points towards the sleeping woman—'technological marvel used to be criminals, on death row. They agreed to let us replicate and edit their DNA code, and create this feat of biological engineering.

'With minutes left to live, they saw it as their chance for immortality. And now, Anew is whoever we want it to be; personality, appearance, skills...'

The General sighs again at the expression on her face. She is chewing her lower lip, uncertain. 'Anew succeeds where androids don't, Rebecca. And it's not harming real people, like neural-stints. It's our masterpiece, and has done a lot of good—Jesus, it took down The Syndicate!'

The General shakes his head, and turns back towards the door. 'I'll leave it up to you what you make of that. I'm heading home now. Goodnight.'

'Night.'

The brunette still chews her lip uncertainly after the General leaves, but then she shakes her head and squares her shoulders; continuing her work.

There's a knock on the glass from one of her co-workers, who's usually in a room further down in the facility. Blinking, he sticks his head past the sliding doors, pushing his digital lenses up his nose. 'Hi, Becky. The General's ordered a reprint.'

The door hadn't opened fully, and he leans through sideways, just enough to hand her a paperwork file, with the specifications requested.

'Huh, that's odd,' She says, accepting it and glancing over the pages. 'I spoke to him before he went home, not two hours ago. He didn't mention any of this.'

Her friend shrugs. 'It passed clearance. Something's come up, apparently, and he's signed off on it from home—but I'm sure the details are all in there. Say, do you want to grab some sushi once you're done?'

Rebecca sighs. 'I would, Ben, but thanks to this change I've been set back hours. I'll have to start from scratch.'

She turns, and walks further into the room with the file, flicking through it and powering down equipment as she goes. She shakes her head, and sighs again. 'Now she'll have to be recycled, and re-printed to the new specifications. It feels... wrong.'