In the city of Pending, your body is the story. You arrive with every slot empty while three societies argue over whose standard the future should run on: the Continuance Branch, which licenses and covers and defines; the Underskin, where Forge Runners publish everything and repair in public; and Sparelife, which fits the bodies nobody else will touch and asks who you are on the record.
Pending reads bodies the way other cities read papers. You arrive with every slot empty, and that makes you the rarest thing on the street: a baseline nobody has written on yet. Three societies want the first line.
The hardware is good. Sight that files what it sees, hands that hold a tolerance, a spine that carries what your work demands. All of it installs, all of it runs - and all of it needs somebody, next month and every month, to keep it running. Who that somebody is decides what your body costs and who it answers to.
The Continuance Branch will license you, cover you and define you. The Underskin will publish everything, repair you in front of witnesses and remember what you owe. Sparelife will fit what nobody else will touch and ask who you are on the record. Nobody in Pending agrees whose answer the future should run on - they only agree that it is being decided now.
And lately, in rooms where new modules are fitted, instruments have been catching small readings the fitted module does not fully explain. Nobody agrees on what they are either. Most people have decided not to look.
Choose the body you arrived in and the door you walked through. The city is already reading you.
Contains: surgical and medical detail, bodily modification and bodily loss, coercive contracts and labour exploitation, surveillance, dependency and withdrawal, grief, and deaths that are permanent.