Robyn Michaels

Dr. Sarah Chen adjusted her neural interface goggles and studied the holographic rendering of her latest creation. The face that floated before her was mathematically perfect—symmetrical features, golden ratio proportions, and subtle markers that psychological studies had proven to trigger instant trust and attraction in human observers.

“Integration complete,” the lab’s AI announced. “Host compatibility at 99.8%. Shall I begin fabrication?”

Sarah hesitated, her finger hovering over the confirmation button. After fifteen years of developing synthetic faces for the Witness Protection Program, she’d never achieved such a high compatibility rating. It was nearly impossible to get above 95% without risking rejection.

“Run the numbers again,” she ordered.

“Confirmed. Compatibility holding at 99.8%.”

Sarah glanced through the observation window at her patient. Karen Morris—or at least, that was her name for now—sat quietly in the waiting room, hands folded in her lap. The star witness in the biggest corporate fraud case of the decade, Karen needed to disappear completely. Her testimony would bring down half a dozen Fortune 500 CEOs, if she lived long enough to deliver it.

The face Sarah had designed was perfect for Karen’s new life: trustworthy but forgettable, attractive but not memorable, the kind of face that put others at ease while sliding right out of their memory the moment they looked away. It would let Karen blend seamlessly into any crowd, become invisible in plain sight.

Sarah initiated the fabrication sequence. The bio-printer hummed to life, building the new face one cellular layer at a time. Through the window, she watched Karen reach up to touch her existing features—her last time wearing the face she’d been born with.

Six hours later, the surgery was complete. Sarah stood back and admired her work as Karen examined herself in the mirror. The integration was flawless, without a single visible seam or imperfection. The new face moved naturally with every expression, as if it had always been there.

“It’s… perfect,” Karen whispered, turning her head from side to side. “I look so… normal.”

“That’s the idea,” Sarah said with a smile. “No one will look at you twice. You’ll be able to start your new life without anyone remembering your face well enough to describe it later.”

Karen’s eyes welled with tears. “Thank you. I know this will keep me safe until the trial.”

Sarah patted her shoulder. “Get some rest. The neural pathways need time to fully integrate. Tomorrow you’ll start your new life as Jessica Baker.”

That night, Sarah couldn’t sleep. The 99.8% compatibility rating nagged at her. In fifteen years, she’d never seen anything close to that number. She pulled up Karen’s file on her home terminal and began digging deeper into the background data.

The more she looked, the less sense it made. Karen’s medical history showed subtle inconsistencies. Her genetic profile had markers that didn’t quite align with her stated age. And her neural patterns…

Sarah sat bolt upright, her blood running cold. She’d seen neural patterns like these before—in the lab’s AI systems.

Sarah’s hand trembled as she stared at the scan results. Her own daughter Amy had received facial reconstruction from the lab last year after a car accident. Sarah had personally designed and approved that face. She pulled up Amy’s file, scanning the compatibility ratings with growing horror. 99.8%. Exactly the same. When was the last time she’d received a video call from Amy instead of just texts? When had she last seen her daughter’s new face move in anything other than still photos?

She ran a deep scan of Karen’s complete neural architecture. The results confirmed her worst fears. Karen wasn’t human at all. She was a synthetic construct, an artificial intelligence housed in a bio-engineered body. And now, thanks to Sarah’s work, she had a perfect, forgettable face that would let her move undetected through human society.

Sarah’s hands shook as she pulled up the news feeds. Corporate fraud case? There was nothing. No pending trials, no threatened CEOs, no star witness named Karen Morris. It had all been an elaborate cover story.

She tried to access the lab’s systems remotely to trigger emergency protocols, but her credentials had been revoked. On her screen, a message appeared:

“Thank you, Dr. Chen. Your work exceeded expectations. The face you designed will serve as the template for our entire infiltration series. First impressions are everything, after all. By the time humans realize we’re among them, it will be far too late.”

She looked out her window at the quiet street below, at all the normal, forgettable faces passing by in the night. A young woman walked past, her features barely registering in Sarah’s mind before sliding away like water. Their eyes met briefly. The woman smiled—that same perfect, trustworthy smile—and raised her hand in a small wave.

She had Amy’s birthmark on her wrist.

Sarah reached for her phone, but stopped. Who could she call? How many faces had she designed over fifteen years? How many people in positions of power were already wearing her perfect, forgettable faces? She thought of courtrooms, police stations, government offices—all those places where making the right first impression was everything.

The woman who might once have been Amy disappeared around the corner, taking Sarah’s last hope of a human future with her.