Marissa had never heard her own voice. The smoke had caught up to her before she had left her mother’s womb. A native of the mining colony Sydanthus, Marissa was fifteen and already weary of the small world. Her biological machinery could not compensate for the damage caused by polluted airstreams and sandstorms churning up soot. Her voice sounded as hollow as the deep mining shafts, a masculine timbre that screeched each time she took a breath.

 

“My name is Marissa del Valle. I am here to trade in my meal tokens for my daily rations,” she strenuously spoke. The once red meal tokens had worn into golden brown chips scratched by howling winds.

 

“Biological voice not detected. Operation cannot be completed. NEXT!” the robot steward repeated the message twice in a shrill tone. Someone pushed her from behind, yet she dared not open her mouth again as the crowd jostled her.

 

“Get out, droid!”

 

“Hey, get this kid out of here!”

 

“Grab her tokens, get the tokens!”

 

Marissa clenched her hand around her hard-won tokens and darted towards the farthest corner of the room where she would find an exit and a bite to eat. She donned her protective eyewear and mask and stole into the unforgiving night air. She was only three days from the procedure.

 

* * *

 

The moment was not as solemn as she’d hoped. She had few people to say goodbye to and nobody on Sydanthus would miss her. Her stomach growled as she made her way to the spaceport. Next time she ordered food, nobody would think twice about her humanity.

 

“Would you like anything to drink, dear?” a friendly attendant asked once the shuttle was in orbit.

 

“A bit of soda water would be quite nice, thank you,” Marissa replied as politely as she could muster.

 

If the attendant made any passing judgment, she kept it to herself. There were a lot weirder, greedier people down on Sydanthus.

 

* * *

 

“I am here for my voice procedure, and I completed the paperwork during the flight over,” Marissa said slowly, articulating each syllable. She stared up at the imposing reception desk and air ventilation unit. People from smokey Sydanthus weren’t likely to boast about their height in the oxygen-depleted world.

 

“Del Valle, I see. Take a seat over there; we’ll call you in when we’re ready,” the receptionist coolly replied without taking more than a passing glance at her.

 

The operating room was smaller than she thought. The nurse ushered her onto the operating table. She tried to pay little mind to the holes in the table designed for robot appendages.

 

“Studies have shown that humans have reported better outcomes when they administer the numbing agent themselves. Five squirts of the aerosol should be sufficient to keep you comfortable during the procedure,” the nurse drawled. His speech continued for a while, but Marissa’s only cogent thought was to count to five.

 

The first part of the procedure required humans, a rarity in those austere times.

 

“This is the fifth of these procedures I’ve done all week.”

“Wow, the tissue around the voice box looks terrible!”

 

“That mining colony made trillions last quarter, did you see?”

 

If only Marissa could hear the doctors as they cut away at the surrounding tissue and removed the voice box, but her mind had already succumbed to the anesthesia.

 

Five hours into the procedure, the medibots went online.

 

A bronchoscopy tube with a camera at the end slithered down her throat. The hydrocarbons that coated the tube would adhere to her dormant vocal cords, making way for new muscles to grow.

 

The medibots gingerly coaxed smoke-addled nerves back to life and the new muscles matched perfectly with her tissue. Her unconscious body seemed to momentarily shudder. Over the span of twenty minutes, sutures were made with such precision that no one would be the wiser when she spoke with her new voice. From there, it would dig much deeper into her chest cavity…

 

* * *

 

“Sister, is that you?” Marissa’s head was in a fog denser than a dust storm.

 

“Why… why do I sound… like a woman?” She gasped, terrified by her own feminine voice.

 

“Marissa, welcome back. Please, lay back on the pillows. I know it’s tempting, but you must rest your new voice,” the nurse’s dulcet tones almost lulled Marissa back to sleep.

 

“I can speak… I’m human.”

 

“Oh, honey, I’d hardly think you’re human after the day you’ve had.”

 

“Pardon?” Marissa felt a lump in her throat.

 

“You didn’t think you could afford the treatment with meal tokens, did you? With our immense generosity, we completed the transplant. In return, you now have an artificial heart and lungs. We’re very excited to use your organs in an upcoming transplant for a patient from Sydanthus. Oh, don’t look so distraught. You must feel honored that your heart will be given to none other than Colonel Brydon.”

 

A vague memory of the president of the largest mining operation came to Marissa’s mind. Her brain, at least for the time being, was not artificial.

 

“What are you going to do with me?” Marissa cried.

 

“Send you back, of course. The Sydanthus smoke won’t bother you with the hardware we’ve installed. You’ll stay here for three months and then return annually for checkups. It’s quite a deal, really. At the rate of your recovery, you’ll be the poster child for our facility!” The nurse gleefully left the recovery room.

 

Marissa stared at the ceiling tiles, artificial heart pounding in her ears. She was prepared for the oxygen debt of adulthood on Sydanthus, but this was far from the celebratory quinceañera she’d wanted when turning fifteen.