"I can help you — but there's a price," 007 chirped as the car rolled.
"Shut up," I said. I had no breath for anything cute.
Metal screamed. Glass sprayed. The cliff dropped away like an invitation and the road tried to bite us off where it met the guardrail.
"Bianca Bauer," 007 said, calm. "You are at critical mortality. Bind option available."
"Who are you?" I spat between teeth and blood. My voice sounded thin. The seatbelt slackened as the world tipped.
"A contractor. Name: 007," the voice answered. It sounded small, like a toy, and bigger than any echo. "Offer: life extension through task completion. Terms visible."
"You think I'm bargaining on a cliff?" I laughed, high and hysterical. "I'm an heiress. I have lawyers. I have—"
"Choice A: Decline. Outcome: death recorded as traffic accident. Vault release: none. Choice B: Bind. Outcome: consciousness transfer into available host. Tasks assigned. Reward: life. Immediate cost: memory discount and physical transfer penalties."
"What's the catch?" I asked. Pain flared when the car hit something hard. My front teeth banged. Everything that was me bowed into white.
"Catch: you will not be you as before," 007 said. "You will be tasked. You will obey system prompts to receive returns. You consent?"
I had trained all my life to sign on the dotted line for mergers, for nondisclosures, for survival. Nothing in any contract had ever offered to keep my lungs working.
"Type yes," 007 instructed.
"No." My throat scraped. I had one impulse
