The year is 3033.
Humanity has made astounding progress in science and technology. Space travel is routine, artificial intelligence manages entire cities, and disease has become a choice rather than a curse.
But greed? Greed has only evolved.
Morality has decayed to a whisper of what it once was. The gap between rich and poor is no longer a crack — it's a canyon. And in that canyon, crime festers like an open wound.
The world has changed. Justice, too.
Governments, overwhelmed, outsourced the hunting — and the killing — of criminals to bounty hunters.
I am Jake.
A bounty hunter.
Today is my 66th birthday.
An old man.
A failing body riddled with disease.
Still out there chasing scum.
"Just retire, old man," the clerk at the Bounty Hunter Guild muttered without looking up from his holo-screen.
I didn't reply. I simply turned and walked away. No jobs today.
I made my way downtown to meet Alex — a talented young hacker who could crack corporate firewalls and build custom tech like a wizard. He was the best in the city, and cheap. I liked him.
"Wanna hang out?" I asked when I found him at his usual spot, buried in a pile of tangled circuits.
We ended up at a local pub, dimly lit and smelling of synthetic whiskey and broken dreams.
I took a sip of my drink. "How do you become a cyborg?" I asked.
Alex froze, glass halfway to his lips. He stared at me, wide-eyed.
"Are you serious?" he asked.
"Serious to the bone," I said.
He leaned back, thinking. "Alright, old man. But it ain't cheap. Becoming a cyborg takes money. Lots of it."
"I've got savings," I said. "Just tell me how."
I knew the stories. People extending their lives by centuries. Escaping cancer, decay, death.
If you're lucky — and rich — becoming a cyborg can give you another 500 years, maybe more.
Alex nodded. "There's a company: Mino Cybernetics. You register, you pay, they do the rest."
"But," he warned, "there's risk. If the surgery fails... you die."
"I don't care," I said.
If I stay like this, I die anyway.
---
The next day, I walked into the cold, pristine lobby of Mino Cybernetics.
I picked their cheapest cybernetic body — a hyper-realistic female sexbot model. It was the only option within my budget. Even so, the tech was bleeding-edge. Advanced sensory feedback, simulated hormones, full human mimicry.
They told me I'd still feel like a human.
They told me I'd still feel pleasure.
I didn't care.
"Yeah, whatever," I muttered. "I'm not here to get off. I just want to live."
I handed over nearly all my retirement savings.
In return, I got a date for the operation.
---
A few days later, I lay on a cold metal table.
They removed my brain and spine, sealed them inside a specialized high-tech life support casing — a miracle of medical engineering. It not only kept me alive, it would begin regenerating my neural tissue. Slowly, over time, I would regain the clarity, sharpness, and vitality of a young mind.
The casing was then installed into the new cybernetic body — my new body.
And then, everything went black.
---
Booting system...
My new eyes opened.
Crisp. Bright. Synthetic.
I sat up — naked — and walked toward the mirror.
What I saw stunned me.
A young woman stared back — the exact body I had selected from their catalog. Long legs, smooth fair skin, ample curves, flowing blonde hair, piercing green eyes, bouncy generous boobs. The body was anatomically complete in every sense, including the hyper realistic sacred part.
"Do you like it?" asked one of the cybernetic surgeons.
I answer it, but surprised by the voice that came from my lips. Soft. Feminine. Sultry.
The voice of a young woman.
"Yes," I said.
"Glad to hear it," the doctor said, handing me a fresh set of clothes — a lacy bra, matching panties, a tight-fitting mini dress, and high heels.
I dressed quickly, still adjusting to the balance and feel of the new form.
"There's a user manual built into your system," the doctor explained. "You can access it just by thinking about it."
He handed me a physical copy, too. Just in case.
The company even helped update my identity in the government registry — under the legal reason:
"Gender change due to cybernetic transition."
My new name?
Jane.
.....
A few hours later.
I parked the car and stepped out, heels clicking softly against the pavement.
Everywhere I walked, I felt the eyes.
Men staring. Tracking. Scanning.
Not just a feeling—my cybernetic sensors mapped their gazes in real time.
Angle, depth, duration.
Some stared with hunger, others with curiosity.
As long as they kept their distance, I didn't care.
Alex's place was just ahead—a cluttered garage-shop hybrid glowing with neon strips and scattered junk tech. As always, the rolling door was half-open, the place buzzing with soldering tools and electric hums.
He was hunched over a bench, assembling what looked like a makeshift drone or an experimental gadget. I approached quietly, but he still noticed.
He looked up, smirked, and grinned.
"Well, hello there, sexy lady," he said, raising an eyebrow. "What kind of pleasure do you seek today?"
I answered in my soft, feminine voice.
"Alex… it's me. Jake."
He froze. Blinked.
"Jake? Seriously?"
"Yes," I said.
His eyes scanned me—top to bottom, bottom to top—then back again.
Then he broke into wild laughter.
"Hah! You actually did it! You're a damn cyborg!"
He ran a little victory circle around the shop, then stopped in front of me, still chuckling.
"Look at you—smokin' hot chick! Uweee! Total bombshell!"
"Calm down, Alex."
"Sorry, Jake—uh, I mean, damn! A hot girl shows up at my garage and says she's my old man bounty hunter buddy? This is some cyberpunk dream stuff."
"My name's Jane now," I said flatly.
He nodded, still smiling.
"Okay, lovely Jane. What can I do for you?"
"I need combat programs installed—martial arts, weapon assistance. Everything I'll need on the field."
Alex's grin widened. "You got it. Take a seat."
I sat on a padded chair while he slid in front of his computer terminal, tapping at keys with practiced ease.
"Alright, open your cyber brain port."
I didn't need to move a finger. I thought it, and my system obeyed.
Menu → System → Cyber Brain → Port → Open
A small port—about the size of a USB-C slot—opened behind my right ear with a soft click.
Alex plugged in a sleek cable from his terminal.
"Alright, initiating installation," he said, fingers dancing across his keyboard.
My augmented reality overlay flickered to life:
> Installing...
Taekwondo... ✅
Karate... ✅
Jiujitsu... ✅
Kickboxing... ✅
Aikido... ✅
Judo... ✅
Kung-Fu... ✅
Kenjutsu... ✅
Weapon Targeting Assist... ✅
Handgun, Rifle, Sniper, Shotgun, RPG, Grenade... ✅
Installation Complete – Combat System Online
Alex leaned back, satisfied.
"You're locked, loaded, and lethal, Miss Jane."
I closed the port with a thought—System → Close Port—and it sealed with a gentle hiss.
Then, I triggered a secure transaction through my cyber-brain. Within seconds, a transfer went from my bank account to Alex's.
His computer beeped.
"Whoa! Thanks for the generous donation, sugar mama!" he laughed.
I stood up and stretched, feeling the new combat protocols sink into my muscle memory like they'd always been there.
"I'm heading out," I said.
"Where to?"
"Gonna buy some proper clothes. And a body-suit armor."
Alex leaned against his workbench with a cocky grin.
"Hey, Jane—if you ever get lonely… my rod's always ready to interface."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, right."
"It's a joke! A joke!" he called after me as I walked toward the exit.
"I know," I said over my shoulder.
Then I climbed into my car and drove toward the shopping mall.
A new body. A new identity.
Time to suit up.