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A throat clearing from Nathan made her turn her head. He was holding out a CD, wiggling it back and forth. Charlie shrugged and grabbed it from him. Popping it into the player, she took up her position in her writing chair, legs crossed underneath her. A few clicks, and her story’s file appeared. The sounds of ‘A Mystic’s Dream’ by Loreena McKennitt floated out of the speakers. ‘Good choice,’ she hummed as she put on her reading glasses. She began scanning what she previously wrote for glaring details. No editing, just a quick cursory glance to make sure the ideas were moving along as needed. She heard the keys clicking on Nathan’s computer. Everything together actually formed a relaxing moment for her worn out body. She rolled her head on her shoulders, brought it right, and began typing herself. When Charlie looked up from the screen, it was already 11 p.m. She managed to get five pages typed. She turned her head to check on Nathan. He was holding a book with one hand and typing. She had successfully thrashed and hopefully destroyed the physical copy of the Re-Animator, for some reason she could not explain she felt it was important that this technology would not be controlled by the wrong hands. Perhaps to re-unite with the rightful owners or users od that technology was the purpose of her existence. Sister knew that the secrets of that system were somehow hard-coded into her core, where it could be retrieved and recreated easily.She was disturbed by the fact that the machine had not restored all her abilities. She could not trust her memories, mostly because she did not know which of them were hers, associated to her true, yet to be revealed or discovered purpose and which were not; however the machine or at least the version that had been built in that sub-surface laboratory was unable to graft whatever new identity she was absorbed more permanently. As soon as she had absorbed the matter and mind of a victim it has begun to deteriorate as if rejected and.
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