Looking in the mirror, Luke was humiliated. Sure, he knew he was going to look different after they applied that ... printed appearance onto his body, but this? Really?
His pale-faced, 22-year-old visage was gone, along with his petite nose, curly red hair sexy green eyes. It had all been replaced by copper-brown fuzz all over a loose, wrinkly forehead and a long, blocky muzzle. Most embarrassing of all were the droopy, carpet-like ears hanging all the way down onto his fuzzy brown shoulders. He hadn't been given any clothes yet (if indeed he would be getting any), so he could clearly see the soft blanket of short brown fur extending all the way down his chest. Turning to the side a bit gave him a better view of the prominent black saddle pattern that wrapped back around his sides and presumably across his back.
He looked like a fucking bloodhound!
If only he hadn't got caught with those 20 pills of unprescribed nicotine in that airport lobby. He could have sworn he left that shit at home on the apartment counter! Oh, well, the scanner droids probably would have found it there anyway, ever since the court ruled that smoking a residence in nanobot clouds didn't count as an unreasonable search.
Looking down at himself, Luke couldn't miss the long, peppery-brown artificial tail that was hanging down between his legs. Seriously?! They felt the need to go THIS FAR over 20 pills? The blasted thing was hanging almost to the ground! Everyone was going to see it, along with his ears, and he couldn't take any of this off for seven months. Just to make sure, he gave a decently firm tug on the tail they gave him, and winced as the nano-sensors remotely triggered the nano-receivers in his brain's sensory regions, which in turn triggered his neural pathways for pain. Ouch! Who knew he was going to have to be so careful with 3D printed pseudo-flesh?
And then there was the collar. It made him look even more like a man in a high-budget dog costume, but he wouldn't even know he was a man if that little red indicator light came on. Judging from the ugly bloodhound look they gave him, Luke naturally assumed he'd start acting like an actual dog if they needed to trigger his escape collar. He could see the news segment now: local prisoner escapes MORPH program, topples several trashcans, and waters a fire hydrant before being recaptured by re-entry officers. Luke was starting to wonder if he was really better off signing up for this program or if he should have just stayed in jail and slept outside in the overflow tent for the rest of his sentence. He was seven months away from probation, dammit!
He sighed and stepped out into the discharge office. Mountains of fine print data started scrolling up through his field of vision, perfectly integrated with the just the right level of translucence that he could still see his surroundings while casually looking through this second layer of information that accompanied everything. There was data about the composition of various objects around him and biometric data about the other people in the room. There was even retrospective biometric data about people who had been in the room minutes, hours, or days earlier--constructed from chemical residues that appeared in his AR vision as discoloration patches. Where was all this coming from and what was it for?
Oh, yeah, that's right: he remembered they were going to augment his new form with an advanced chemical reception and residue analysis AI subsystem. That must be part of why he needed that big snout sticking out in front of him: even in 2050, complex data processing has to go somewhere. He most certainly did not appreciate the visual metaphor of turning him into a bloodhound, however.
He walked up to the officer he was being released to and tried to greet her. Unfortunately, he could not speak, and his muzzle opened up in a loud bark.
"Good morning, Luke, and welcome to the MORPHPFVTAEOR program. You may proceed to sniff my uniform to access my preloaded profile in your biochemical analysis library."
Luke sighed and gave the blue smart fabric a few tentative whiffs. Highlight splotches appeared in various sections of her skin and clothes before translucent text began autoscrolling out front:
BIOCHEMICAL SIGNATURE RECOGNIZED
HUMAN SUBJECT IDENTIFIED:
OFFICER CARLA MICHELLE HARRISON
AGE 29, FORT TALBOT VILLAGE, NEW YORK
HEALTH ESTIMATE: REASONABLY GOOD--RECENT COMPLETE RECOVERY FROM COVID-48
SUBJECT IDENTIFIED AS YOUR MAIN CARETAKER AND CURRENT AUTHORITY FIGURE
... NO CURRENTLY IDENTIFIABLE ILLICIT SUBSTANCES DETECTED
The uniformed lady in front of him continued her introduction.
"You will be living with me in what people used to call house arrest. It's a little misleading, because it will actually be my house, not yours. And in any case, you will not be confined only to the house. On the contrary, you will be coming with me on patrols to assist in making arrests for terrorism, drug trafficking and other crimes."
* Oh, great, * thought Luke. * So I'm going to be a drug dog. *
"Your specially designed cybernetics will help to keep our city safe from the very crime you committed, and I speak for the police department in thanking you for choosing to make amends. I personally am looking forward to hosting some professional company over the next few months. As you are aware, however, choosing to stray from the locations I authorize for you will result in the escapee retrieval mechanism being triggered, which you might find less than dignified."
Luke rolled his eyes. He really didn't want that collar to light up.
"Very well then. I'll show you my place. Let's head out."