You watch with trepidation as the clinic technician attaches the sensors to your girlfriend Bobbi's head. Your eyes follow the wires of the sensors to a computer, which has other wires leading to sensors strapped to the head of a chrome gynoid chassis. The unmoving robotic body's visage looks just like Bobbi's beautiful face, only made from chrome and with platinum-hued synthetic fibers for hair instead of Bobbi's brunette locks. It's weird to think Bobbi's consciousness will be inhabiting that metal chassis soon instead of her flesh-and-blood body.

"Hey, don't be nervous, sweetie," Bobbi smiles at you. "I want this. I don't want to be human anymore."