With each passing day, she becomes more machine than flesh.
The thought fills her with glee, and an almost erotic excitement; to finally transcend this body and its base human needs is her ultimate goal. As it stands, she still has to sleep, to eat and excrete, hateful duties carried out with the utmost utility and a measure of shame.
Still, the nanomachines are transforming her, bit by bit, cell by cell, synapse by synapse. It's an unorthodox procedure of her own designing. First came the standard augmentations practically everyone receives; neurocomm plugs to allow her to communicate with others via direct mind link and access the neural net, the standard 'machine package to help her body work more efficiently healing wounds and fighting infections, the visual cortex upgrade that lets her see in low light and zoom in for more detail. Then came others, black market tech she'd tweaked to serve her purposes, working day and night in the Inner Sanctum, the hermetically sealed chamber she calls home.
Someday, she won't even need this body, this soft mortal shell, this cage named Immaculata Bright. She'll exist as information, a beautiful data collection drifting through the aether.