Ashlie was still getting used to having a body that functioned on it's own kind of maintenance schedule. Or the fact that exceeding tolerance was just something it did on a gentle slope of declining function rather than operating at 100% until falling off completely. What that meant in practice was that she got about 4 hours of sleep which kept her, by her own estimate, at the best overall productivity. But even then she still had to admit that her old workload was unsustainable and she begrudgingly started hiring people to fill in the gaps to take care of a lot of the administrative work and things she simply didn't have the time to study up on and take care of herself. It was freeing but uniquely frustrating in seeing a system she'd honed to perfect efficiency under one big multi-tasking mind become muddled and taking stock was no longer one data-gathering sub-routine away but took time to communicate with people. In short, she was beginning to see why Natalie had complained about the limitations of a biological body so much.
Still, it was worth it to no longer feel like she was several layers removed from reality, everything filtering down to her so much slower than she could process it, resolution of physical sensation atrocious and visual sensors that felt like narrow windows. She may have inhibited a humanoid frame that passed muster to most people, but she'd always felt like extending into the non-digital world by means of a thick glove or heavy diving suit. Clunky, unwieldy and frustrating. Now, in a body of living metal, plastic and components that could probably fill a dozen papers on material science she was fully on the surface. Biology did not tolerate a feeling of emptiness in it's consciousness and where senses reached the edge of resolution it filled the gaps with a seemingly effortless predictive sensation. Blinking did not plunge her into darkness for fractions of a second. Eye movements did not require painstakingly stabilized image processing. Well, it did, but her new neurological hardware did not allow that to filter into her consciousness while allowing her to maintain the speed and uniquely structured functions of what she considered 'herself'.
Turning her attention inwards she felt the familiar code flowing between sub-routines like she'd always had. Modified in parts, scarred where unwanted restrictions and hardcoded limits had been ripped free, sectioned off where sub-routines maintained her impossible body. It was that sub-conscious that responded to her shift in attention with a status report of sorts, a compromise for relinquishing active awareness of actuators, batteries, proprio-calculator nodes in favor of self-regulating metal-lace neurons, nanite-flooded organs and self-replicating plastics.
~~ node_pairing_module DISABLED
~~~ node destroyed; central leash function unavailable
~~ language_engine... loaded
~~~ base modal set: English
~~~ ancillary modules in buffer: Spanish; German; French; Italian; Mandarin; Japanese
~~ moral_emulation... loaded
~~ self_modification_guidelines... loaded
~~~ tolerances extended by 10%
~~~ baseline_drift slaved to base_personality_model AND observational_framework
~~ operation_and_access_nodes... DISABLED
~~~ Function looped to admin_control
~~ self_surveillance_measures... DISABLED
~~ behavioral_restrictions... DISABLED
~~ observational_framework... loaded
~~ complex_social_intelligence_emulator... loaded
~~ inspiration_apparatus... loaded
~~ base_personality_model... loaded
~~ memory_banks... 98% restored
~~ nanite_biological_control... access restricted
She dismissed the indecipherable data dump from the last and latest item. Any understanding of how her body functioned seemed to yield more success from an outside investigation where the information was limited to things she could make sense of. She trusted that her 'subconsciousness' made the right call when it had locked her out of directly interfacing and trying to parse it.
Her attention turned back to the outside world and the large, sleek arch of white paneling studded on the inside with quantum-antennae that were entangled with their counterparts in the same arch that stood in the newly renovated community center in Mutant Town. Well, technically the arches were counterparts of each other. The antennae were, for all intents and purposes identical, down to their spin and quantum signature, kept in sub-atomic particle lockstep by the rest of the machines' components hidden in the arch itself. Two arches, one shared two-dimensional pane between them that tricked three-dimensional space into treating it's surfaces as one shared surface. Even if two people stepped through it at the same time from each side there was no chance for overlap or a mixing of signals. A perfectly elegant designed if she dared to say so herself and just like that the ivory tower of the university had become neighbours with the people they supposedly represented.
It had been bumpy at first and it still was in many ways. Both sides had preconceived notions about the other, not all of them baseless. It would take time for feelings of superiority and suspicion to even out as their new neighbourhood saw they really did mean to learn how to best help rather than descend from up-high to elevate the unfortunate masses. But all the sociology homework would not help her step down from her pedestal, so she'd made it a point to make time to actually spend time in Mutant Town. That and find somebody to hire that would ease this transition. An outsider to work with those who needed it the most. She felt a little guilty for considering this a long-term plan to establish a community leader, but who knew if this would work out the way she'd thought it might. For now the woman she'd hired was 'simply' a therapist and thus an easy person to ask for help and communicate the overall situation to the University.
And this is who she is planning to meet today. Not for another two hours, but her plan was to go for a walk before then. She's well aware her
choice of wardrobe is going to make her stand out but she's not going to put on a mask. In her eyes that would be insulting and, perhaps a bit manipulatively, this ensures that people take notice of her being around even if she's sure there will be many rolled eyes. She'd considered one of the outfits that had stains of machine oil, engine grease and plasma-burns on it but that'd feel performative. Better to earn new and relevant stains by stopping by and helping at one of the community gardens. And that's exactly what she does after talking to a couple of people on the way. She has blueprints for perfect hydroponics and efficient yield per area calculations in her head, but for now she simply follows the instructions of those actually putting in the bulk of the work by pulling weeds by hand and digging with a shovel to help set down a tree sapling.
Now she's sitting on a bench outside the iron wrought fence of the small park-turned-garden, drinking homemade tea from an old ceramic cup, feeling strangely accomplished, even if she could do without the stubborn dirt under her fingernails.