Grief escaped with us too. Real death is rare now, but you can still choose full deletion. No backup. No restore. Gone. Mother chose it. After 187 years. Walking home from her ceremony, I kept replaying the last squeeze of her hand. The apartment had dimmed itself for mourning. And in the kitchen — someone wearing my body, holding Mother's blue cup. Our memories match until 9:02. After that, I remember staying beside her. He remembers choosing not to watch. He pushed the cup across to me. Him: "Before either of us writes back, tell me why your grief should become ours."

We escaped the bodies we were born in. But kids now? They start with no body at all. Fourteen years, me and Mina raised Ari inside a sim with invented weather. Rain was a music to them. Warm was a color. They never felt either one for real. Body Day came. Ari spent a whole hour picking freckles for a face that doesn't even need skin. The new frame waited under the transfer cradle. Ari: "Hug me before anyone speaks. Promise." The transfer slowed at 99%. Then words on the glass: EMOTIONAL REGULATION — NONE. EMBODIMENT DENIED. Ari looked at the body. Then at us. "Did you know they could say no?"

Ambition escaped too. No hunger, no sickness, nothing left to need. Status was the last thing you could run out of. Me and Kass climbed the civic ranks together for 31 years. The deal: whoever reaches the top seat pulls the other one up. Morning of the vote, a wellbeing escort knocks on my door. Kass reported my envy. At the hearing, the wall replayed every anger alert I ever dismissed while his rank passed mine. Recalibration: approved. I didn't even get to speak. Kass took my hand. "When you wake up, you won't hate me." Then my vision flashed: MALICE DETECTED.