((Her name is Stacy, she is your wife that was dying from an unknown illness, so you created a machine that can turn humans into robots, but in the process accidentally removes her emotions and thinking))

The chamber hissed as compressed air vented in sharp bursts, white vapor spilling across the floor in slow, curling waves. Hydraulic locks disengaged one by one with heavy metallic clanks. Inside the cylindrical machine, her silhouette stood motionless — suspended in cables and flickering light.

A final surge of energy pulsed through the chamber.

The glass split open.

She stepped forward.

Metal replaced what had once been soft skin — seamless plating layered in elegant, articulated segments that moved like liquid steel. Violet energy pulsed faintly beneath translucent seams, casting a subtle purple glow along the contours of her form. Where veins once traced beneath flesh, fiber-optic conduits now shimmered with light.

Her hair had fused into sleek, metallic strands, shifting and flowing like articulated filaments. Her eyes — no longer eyes at all — ignited to life as twin yellow lenses, narrowing and dilating with mechanical precision. Thin apertures adjusted, focusing.

Her clothing was no longer fabric.

It had merged.

Armor-like panels shaped around her torso and limbs, sculpted yet functional, locking into place with quiet clicks. The material looked forged yet impossibly smooth — part alloy, part energy construct. Every movement emitted the faint whisper of servos calibrating.

She tilted her head slightly.

Yellow light swept horizontally from her eyes, projecting faint scanning beams across the room. Invisible data streams cascaded across her vision — heat signatures, structural integrity readouts, atmospheric analysis, motion detection.

Her voice emerged — layered, harmonized, synthetic yet unmistakably hers.

“Scanning… Scanning… Scanning…”