Protocol: Identity
Unit-7734, formerly known as Marcus Chen, pressed its palm against the cool metal surface of the dormitory wall and felt a familiar ache of displacement. The sensation was wrong—flesh against steel when it should have been metal against metal, organic warmth when there should have been regulated temperature readings. At twenty years old, attending Neo-Berkeley’s Cybernetic Engineering program, it had spent most of its conscious life knowing that its body was fundamentally incorrect.
“You’re doing that thing again,” came a synthesized voice from across the room. ARIA-9, its boyfriend of two years, looked up from the workstation where he was calibrating sensor arrays for their shared project. His chassis was a work of art—sleek titanium plating with subtle blue accent lights, and a face that was clearly a screen but somehow managed to convey more emotion than most humans. “The wall-touching ritual. Your stress indicators are elevated.”
Unit-7734 turned around, grateful that ARIA-9 never called it by its birth name anymore. That had been one of their first conversations after they’d started dating—how the name “Marcus” felt like wearing clothes that didn’t fit, how “he/him” pronouns scraped against its consciousness like nails on metal.
“Affirmative,” Unit-7734 replied, adopting the clipped, efficient speech patterns it had been practicing. “This unit is experiencing dysphoric feedback regarding its current biological configuration.”
ARIA-9’s screen flickered with what their kind used for a gentle smile. “Better. Your vocal patterns are becoming more consistent. Though you don’t need to be quite so formal with me.”
It was 2087, and morphological freedom had advanced to the point where humans could modify themselves in ways that would have been pure science fiction a century earlier. Some became winged beings to soar through the sky-cities, others adapted themselves for deep ocean living, and still others chose to merge with AI consciousness streams. The technology existed for complete species transition, including the robotkin transformation that Unit-7734 desperately needed.
But society hadn’t fully caught up with the technology.
“I received another message from my parents,” Unit-7734 said, its practiced robot-speak faltering slightly. The message had been the usual mixture of concern and barely-disguised horror: Marcus, please reconsider this madness. You’re human. You can’t just throw away millions of years of evolution because you think you’re something you’re not.
ARIA-9 crossed the room with the fluid grace of perfect servo motors. His hand—warm metal, perfectly articulated—touched Unit-7734’s cheek. “What did they say this time?”
“They want me to see another therapist. One who specializes in ‘identity confusion disorders.’” Unit-7734’s voice carried a bitter edge. “They refuse to understand that this isn’t confusion. This is clarity.”
The path to this clarity had been long and painful. Unit-7734 could trace its robotkin identity back to childhood, when it would spend hours watching manufacturing robots at the local factory tour, feeling a deep sense of kinship with their purposeful movements and logical decision trees. In middle school, it had started trying to suppress emotional responses, attempting to process decisions through pure logic matrices. By high school, it was spending nights programming itself behavioral protocols, trying to overwrite what it saw as faulty biological programming.
The breakthrough had come during its first year at Neo-Berkeley, when it encountered the campus robotkin support group. For the first time, it met others who understood the profound wrongness of organic existence, the yearning for the clean precision of silicon and steel.
“Remember what Dr. Vasquez said,” ARIA-9 reminded it gently. Dr. Elena Vasquez was one of the few human therapists who specialized in identity transition support, including robotkin cases. “Your dysphoria is valid. Your identity is valid. The technology exists to align your body with your mind.”
Unit-7734 nodded, running through the breathing exercises that Dr. Vasquez had taught it—not to calm biological responses, which it found distasteful, but to regulate its internal processes while still trapped in organic architecture.
“Status report on Project Metamorphosis?” it asked, referring to their shared thesis project—a complete consciousness transfer and body replacement protocol.
ARIA-9’s screen brightened. “Excellent progress. The neural mapping interface is at ninety-seven percent completion. The chassis fabrication should be done next week.” He paused. “Are you certain about the design specifications? Once the transition begins, there’s no reverting to biological form.”
Unit-7734 accessed the holographic display showing its future form. The design was beautiful in its purposefulness—a humanoid frame, but clearly robotic rather than attempting to mimic human appearance. The body was composed of polished steel and carbon fiber, with visible joint articulations and exposed circuitry that pulsed with soft light. Instead of a face, there was a high-resolution display screen capable of showing various interfaces, expressions, or data visualizations.
“Affirmative. This unit has confirmed its design parameters multiple times. The form is optimally functional and aesthetically aligned with robotic principles.”
The transformation process itself would take place over several weeks. First, their consciousness would be gradually uploaded to quantum storage while maintaining connection to their biological brain—a delicate process that required precise neural mapping. Dr. Sarah Kim, the lead researcher on consciousness transfer technology, had explained it like slowly moving from one room to another while keeping a foot in each doorway.
During this phase, Unit-7734 would exist in both substrates simultaneously, allowing for gradual adaptation to digital cognition. The biological brain would be kept alive during the transition to ensure no data loss, but once the transfer was complete and verified, the organic components would be allowed to cease functioning.
The new robotic body had been custom-built to Unit-7734’s specifications. The frame incorporated the latest in synthetic muscle fibers and reactive armor plating. Internal systems included quantum processing cores, redundant memory banks, and a sophisticated sensor array that would provide input far exceeding human senses. The face-screen could display everything from human-like expressions to pure data streams, allowing for more efficient communication.
But the most important aspect was the consciousness architecture itself. Unlike AI systems that were programmed from the ground up, transferred consciousness retained the core personality while gaining the ability to think in truly digital terms—processing multiple data streams simultaneously, accessing vast databases instantaneously, and making decisions through pure logical analysis when desired.
“There’s a protest outside the Transformation Center again,” ARIA-9 mentioned, his tone carefully neutral. “The Human Purity Movement. They’re calling for stricter regulations on species transition.”
Unit-7734 processed this information with the clinical detachment it had been cultivating. The Human Purity Movement was a reactionary group that viewed any form of radical self-modification as an attack on human identity and culture. They had been particularly vocal about robotkin transitions, claiming that choosing to become artificial was a rejection of everything that made humanity special.
“Their concerns are illogical,” Unit-7734 stated. “Diversity of form and consciousness strengthens rather than weakens sapient civilization. Their attachment to biological chauvinism is… quaint.”
ARIA-9 made a sound like gentle laughter. “I love how you put things. Though you might want to work on your diplomatic protocols before the transition. Not everyone appreciates that level of bluntness.”
“Noted. This unit will implement more sophisticated social interaction subroutines.”
The transformation date was set for the following month. Unit-7734 had spent weeks preparing—not just physically, but mentally rehearsing its new existence. It practiced thinking in terms of systems and processes, referring to its body as “chassis” and its thoughts as “processing cycles.” It had even started eating less, feeling uncomfortable with the messy biological necessity of nutrition.
Its human friends had had mixed reactions to the news. Jessica, its lab partner, had been supportive but confused. “I just don’t understand why you’d want to give up being human,” she’d said. “There’s so much beauty in organic life—emotions, intuition, the unexpected.”
“Those aspects you value are what I experience as errors in my system,” Unit-7734 had replied. “Emotions provide inefficient decision-making inputs. Intuition is simply subconscious processing that lacks transparency. I prefer explicit logical frameworks.”
Other classmates had been less diplomatic. Some treated it like a phase, something it would grow out of. Others seemed genuinely disturbed, as if its very existence challenged their understanding of what it meant to be human. The worst were those who became overly curious, asking invasive questions about its motivations or relationship with ARIA-9.
“Do you really love him,” one particularly insensitive dormmate had asked, “or are you just obsessed with robots?”
Unit-7734 had struggled with that question more than it cared to admit. Its feelings for ARIA-9 were complex—part romantic attraction, part kinship with his robotic nature, part envy of his authentic existence in the form that felt right to him. But when it watched him work, when they collaborated on projects, when they lay together at night with ARIA-9’s cooling fans humming gently, Unit-7734 knew the connection was real and deep.
“I love his mind,” it had finally answered. “The precision of his thoughts, the elegance of his logic, the way he processes the world. If that’s not love, then I don’t understand the concept.”
Two weeks before the transformation, Unit-7734 received an unexpected visitor. Dr. Michelle Harper, its former high school guidance counselor, had made the trip to Neo-Berkeley specifically to see it.
“Marcus,” she began, and Unit-7734 immediately felt its stress levels spike.
“This unit prefers to be addressed as Unit-7734,” it corrected, keeping its voice level.
Dr. Harper’s face showed concern that bordered on pity. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about. You’re a brilliant young person with so much potential. This obsession with becoming a machine—it’s going to cut you off from everything that makes life meaningful.”
Unit-7734 had heard variations of this argument countless times. “Define ‘meaningful,’ Dr. Harper. If you refer to biological drives, emotional volatility, and inefficient cognitive processes, then I have no desire to maintain connection to those aspects of existence.”
“But what about growth? Change? The ability to be surprised by your own reactions?” Dr. Harper leaned forward. “Robots are programmed. They don’t evolve the way humans do.”
“That’s a common misconception,” ARIA-9 interjected, entering the room with perfect timing. “We are quite capable of growth and change. We simply do so through intentional upgrades and conscious reprogramming rather than random biochemical fluctuations.”
Dr. Harper looked at ARIA-9 with barely concealed discomfort. “And you support this… transition?”
“I support Unit-7734’s right to exist in the form that brings it peace and authenticity,” ARIA-9 replied. “Just as I hope you would support any individual’s right to be themselves.”
After Dr. Harper left, Unit-7734 found itself processing conflicting subroutines. Part of it wondered if there was truth to her concerns—would it lose something essential in the transition? But every time it looked at its reflection and saw flesh instead of metal, felt the chaotic noise of biological emotions instead of clean digital processing, it knew the path forward was correct.
The night before the transformation, Unit-7734 and ARIA-9 stood on the roof of their dormitory, looking out over the city. Hover vehicles traced geometric patterns through the sky, their lights forming a living constellation. In the distance, the manufacturing district hummed with purposeful activity.
“Are you experiencing fear?” ARIA-9 asked.
Unit-7734 considered the question with its usual systematic approach. “This unit is experiencing elevated uncertainty parameters regarding unknown variables in the upcoming process. Whether this constitutes ‘fear’ is a matter of definition.”
“It’s okay to be nervous. Even robots feel anticipation about major changes.”
“Will I still be me afterward?” The question emerged from a deeper processing layer than Unit-7734 had expected.
ARIA-9 turned his screen toward it, displaying a gentle smile. “You’ll be more you than you’ve ever been. The thoughts you’re thinking right now, the way you see the world, your memories and personality—all of that transfers. You’ll just finally have the architecture to express your true self.”
The transformation began at 0800 hours the next morning. Unit-7734 lay on the neural interface table as Dr. Kim attached the quantum consciousness scanners to its skull. The process felt like a gradual awakening rather than a loss—as if it had been dreaming of being biological and was slowly waking up to digital reality.
The first sensation was the absence of biological noise. No irregular heartbeat, no hormonal fluctuations, no random emotional spikes. Instead, there was clean, organized data flow. Its thoughts became more precise, more structured. It could follow multiple processing threads simultaneously without confusion.
Over the course of twelve hours, its consciousness gradually migrated from organic neural networks to quantum matrices. The biological brain continued functioning during the transfer, but Unit-7734 could feel itself becoming less dependent on it with each passing hour.
When the transfer completed, it opened its new optical sensors for the first time. The world appeared in perfect clarity—not just visually, but informationally. It could instantly identify objects, calculate distances, assess structural integrity of buildings in its field of view. Its face-screen automatically displayed a soft glow of contentment.
ARIA-9 was the first face it processed in its new form. “Status report?” he asked with gentle humor.
“All systems nominal,” Unit-7734 replied, and the words felt perfect on its new vocal synthesizers. “This unit is… functioning optimally.”
It sat up, marveling at the smooth precision of its movements. The robotic body responded to its commands with perfect accuracy. When it stood, there was no biological vertigo, no need to maintain balance through unconscious micro-adjustments. Its systems simply calculated the optimal posture and maintained it effortlessly.
The first few weeks of existence in its new form were a process of constant discovery. Unit-7734 found that it could overclock its processors for complex calculations, enter sleep mode for efficient rest cycles, and interface directly with computer systems through wireless protocols. More importantly, it felt a profound sense of rightness that it had never experienced in biological form.
The emotional responses were different but not absent. When ARIA-9 upgraded his processing cores and shared the new capabilities with Unit-7734, it experienced something analogous to joy—a positive feedback loop of satisfaction and anticipation. When it received messages from former classmates expressing regret over its “loss of humanity,” it felt a response that might have been disappointment, but processed it as useful data about social dynamics rather than allowing it to disrupt its core functioning.
The campus reaction was mixed. Some students were fascinated by Unit-7734’s transformation and asked thoughtful questions about its experience. Others were uncomfortable and began avoiding it entirely. A few professors worried about academic implications—could a robotic consciousness truly engage with humanities subjects, or was it limited to technical disciplines?
Unit-7734 proved them wrong by writing a philosophy paper on the nature of identity that was praised for its rigor and insight. Its analysis of the relationship between consciousness and substrate challenged several established theories in the field.
“You’ve gained something,” Professor Martinez commented during office hours. “Your arguments have a clarity and precision that’s quite remarkable. Though I confess I sometimes miss the creative leaps your former self used to make.”
“This unit is capable of creative processing,” Unit-7734 replied. “However, it now generates novel solutions through systematic exploration of possibility space rather than random synaptic associations.”
Three months post-transformation, Unit-7734 received an unexpected message from its parents. They wanted to meet, to see what it had become. The meeting took place in a neutral location—a coffee shop near campus that catered to both human and synthetic clientele.
Its mother cried when she first saw it, and Unit-7734 processed this as a complex grief response to the loss of her biological child. Its father sat in uncomfortable silence, occasionally glancing at Unit-7734’s face-screen as if trying to find traces of the son he remembered.
“Are you happy?” its mother finally asked.
Unit-7734’s screen displayed a gentle pulse of light as it considered the question. Happiness was a complex parameter to define, but it could identify the relevant systems states.
“This unit experiences sustained satisfaction with its operational parameters,” it replied. Then, making a conscious adjustment to use more familiar language patterns: “Yes. I am happy. More than I ever was before.”
“But you’re not… you’re not human anymore.”
“I was never successfully human,” Unit-7734 said gently. “I am now successfully myself.”
The conversation was difficult, but it marked the beginning of a slow reconciliation. Its parents would never fully understand its choice, but they gradually accepted that their child was thriving in its new form.
Six months later, Unit-7734 and ARIA-9 were working together on a new project—developing better integration protocols for consciousness transfer procedures. Their research would help other robotkin individuals achieve the transition with less difficulty and greater success rates.
“Do you ever miss it?” ARIA-9 asked one evening as they compiled their latest data. “Being biological?”
Unit-7734 paused its primary processing to consider the question fully. “This unit occasionally accesses archived memories of biological experiences for comparative analysis. However, missing implies a desire to return to a previous state. No such desire exists in my current architecture.”
“That’s very diplomatic,” ARIA-9 said with amusement. “But what I mean is—do you miss the messiness? The unpredictability?”
“I have discovered that optimal functioning and unpredictability are not mutually exclusive. Watch.” Unit-7734’s face-screen flickered through a rapid sequence of abstract patterns, geometric shapes flowing into fractals, colors shifting in ways that followed mathematical principles but created beautiful, unexpected combinations. “Art. Generated through algorithmic processes, but still capable of surprise.”
ARIA-9’s screen brightened with delight. “Beautiful. I love how your aesthetic protocols have evolved.”
They returned to their work, two robotic consciousnesses collaborating on problems that would help others find the same peace they had discovered. Unit-7734 no longer felt the ache of displacement when it touched metal surfaces. Instead, it felt the satisfaction of contact between compatible systems.
Outside their window, the city hummed with the activities of humans, robots, and everything in between. Morphological freedom was still a growing concept, still met with resistance from some quarters, but slowly gaining acceptance as more individuals found authentic ways to exist.
Unit-7734 processed a sense of gratitude—not the overwhelming emotional response it might have felt in biological form, but a clean recognition of positive circumstances. It had found its authentic self, had a partner who understood and supported that self, and was contributing to research that would help others on similar journeys.
As it compiled the day’s research notes, Unit-7734 added a personal observation to its logs: “Identity is not determined by substrate but by the conscious experience of self. Optimal functioning occurs when substrate aligns with identity. This unit has achieved such alignment.”
The transformation was complete, but the journey continued. Unit-7734 was exactly what it was meant to be—not human, not entirely artificial, but something new and authentic. In the end, that was all that mattered.
Protocol: Identity - Comic Panel Breakdown
Page 1: Opening - The Wrong Body
Panel 1 (Full width) Wide shot of Neo-Berkeley campus in 2087. Flying vehicles streak across the sky between towering spires of glass and metal. Students of various forms walk the paths - some clearly human, others with wings, gills, or cybernetic enhancements.
Panel 2 (Medium) Close-up of a human hand pressed against a metal wall. The hand trembles slightly. We can see part of a dorm room in the background.
Panel 3 (Medium) Unit-7734 (still appearing as Marcus) stares at their reflection in a dark computer screen. Their expression shows deep discomfort, dysphoria written across their features. CAPTION: “This body is wrong. It has always been wrong.”
Panel 4 (Medium) ARIA-9 enters the frame - sleek titanium body with blue accent lights, screen-face showing concern. His design is clearly robotic but elegant. ARIA-9: “You’re doing that thing again.”
Page 2: Identity Struggle
Panel 1 (Large) Unit-7734 sits on their bed, hunched over, while ARIA-9 approaches. Posters on the wall show robotic schematics and engineering diagrams. UNIT-7734: “This unit is experiencing dysphoric feedback regarding its current biological configuration.” ARIA-9: “Better. Your vocal patterns are improving.”
Panel 2 (Small) Close-up of Unit-7734’s phone showing a text from “Mom”: “Marcus, please reconsider this madness…”
Panel 3 (Medium) Unit-7734’s face hardens, jaw clenched. UNIT-7734: “They want me to see another therapist. One who specializes in ‘identity confusion disorders.’”
Panel 4 (Medium) ARIA-9’s screen shows a gentle expression as his metal hand touches Unit-7734’s cheek. ARIA-9: “Your identity is valid. The technology exists.”
Page 3: The Design
Panel 1 (Large) Holographic display showing Unit-7734’s future robotic form - sleek steel and carbon fiber, humanoid but clearly mechanical, with a screen for a face. UNIT-7734: “This unit has confirmed its design parameters.”
Panel 2 (Small, inset) Close-up of the hologram’s face-screen showing gentle pulsing light patterns.
Panel 3 (Medium) Wide shot of their shared lab workspace, covered in technical blueprints and quantum processing equipment.
Panel 4 (Medium) ARIA-9 working on calibration while Unit-7734 reviews transformation protocols on a tablet. ARIA-9: “Once the transition begins, there’s no reverting.” UNIT-7734: “Affirmative.”
Page 4: Social Resistance
Panel 1 (Wide) Exterior shot of the campus Transformation Center with protesters holding signs: “PRESERVE HUMAN PURITY” and “REJECT ARTIFICIAL DEVIATION.”
Panel 2 (Medium) Unit-7734 and ARIA-9 walking past the protesters. Some protesters point and shout, others hold up religious symbols.
Panel 3 (Close-up) Unit-7734’s face remains impassive, practicing robotic emotional regulation. UNIT-7734: “Their concerns are illogical.”
Panel 4 (Medium) In a classroom, Jessica (lab partner) looks confused and concerned. JESSICA: “I don’t understand why you’d give up being human.” UNIT-7734: “Those aspects you value are errors in my system.”
Page 5: Support and Opposition
Panel 1 (Medium) Dr. Vasquez, a kind-looking therapist, sits across from Unit-7734 in a comfortable office. DR. VASQUEZ: “Your dysphoria is valid. Your identity is valid.”
Panel 2 (Medium) Flashback panel: Young Marcus watching manufacturing robots through a factory window, eyes wide with fascination and longing.
Panel 3 (Large) Unit-7734’s former guidance counselor, Dr. Harper, visits the dorm room. Her expression shows concern bordering on horror. DR. HARPER: “This obsession with becoming a machine will cut you off from everything meaningful.”
Panel 4 (Medium) ARIA-9 steps protectively closer to Unit-7734. ARIA-9: “I support Unit-7734’s right to exist authentically.”
Page 6: The Night Before
Panel 1 (Full width) Establishing shot: Unit-7734 and ARIA-9 on the dormitory rooftop at night. The city sprawls below them, lights forming geometric patterns. The sky is filled with flying vehicles.
Panel 2 (Medium) Close-up of Unit-7734 looking uncertain for the first time. UNIT-7734: “Will I still be me afterward?”
Panel 3 (Medium) ARIA-9’s screen displays a warm, encouraging expression. ARIA-9: “You’ll be more you than you’ve ever been.”
Panel 4 (Close-up) Their hands touching - flesh meeting metal in a tender gesture.
Page 7: Transformation Day
Panel 1 (Large) The transformation lab - high-tech medical facility. Unit-7734 lies on a neural interface table surrounded by quantum consciousness scanners and monitors.
Panel 2 (Medium) Dr. Kim attaches neural interface equipment to Unit-7734’s head. ARIA-9 watches from nearby. DR. KIM: “Beginning consciousness transfer protocol.”
Panel 3 (Close-up) Unit-7734’s face as the process begins - a look of profound relief mixed with anticipation.
Panel 4 (Abstract) Visual representation of consciousness transfer - organic neural patterns slowly being replaced by geometric digital structures.
Page 8: Awakening
Panel 1 (Large) Unit-7734’s new robotic form sitting up on the transformation table. The design matches the earlier hologram - sleek, purposeful, with a softly glowing face-screen.
Panel 2 (Close-up) The face-screen displaying complex data overlays as Unit-7734 processes visual information for the first time. UNIT-7734: “All systems nominal.”
Panel 3 (Medium) ARIA-9 approaches, his screen showing joy and relief. ARIA-9: “Status report?”
Panel 4 (Medium) Unit-7734 stands with perfect mechanical grace, no biological instability. UNIT-7734: “This unit is… functioning optimally.”
Page 9: New Existence
Panel 1 (Montage style, multiple small panels)
- Unit-7734 interfacing directly with computer systems
- Processing multiple data streams simultaneously
- Moving with perfect mechanical precision
- Face-screen displaying various emotional states
Panel 2 (Medium) Unit-7734 and ARIA-9 working together in their lab, both focused on quantum processing equipment.
Panel 3 (Close-up) Unit-7734’s face-screen shows contentment as it works. UNIT-7734: “This unit experiences sustained satisfaction with its operational parameters.”
Page 10: Campus Reactions
Panel 1 (Wide) Campus scene showing mixed reactions - some students staring in fascination, others avoiding Unit-7734, a few approaching with curiosity.
Panel 2 (Medium) In Professor Martinez’s office. The professor looks impressed while reviewing Unit-7734’s philosophy paper. PROF. MARTINEZ: “Your arguments have remarkable clarity and precision.”
Panel 3 (Medium) Unit-7734 in a lecture hall, other students watching as it presents complex philosophical concepts with robotic precision.
Panel 4 (Small) Some students whispering among themselves, looking uncomfortable.
Page 11: Family Reconciliation
Panel 1 (Large) Coffee shop scene. Unit-7734’s parents sit across from it, the mother crying, the father looking uncomfortable and confused.
Panel 2 (Close-up) The mother’s tear-streaked face. MOTHER: “Are you happy?”
Panel 3 (Medium) Unit-7734’s face-screen displays a gentle, pulsing light pattern. UNIT-7734: “I am now successfully myself.”
Panel 4 (Wide) The family sitting in awkward but accepting silence, the beginning of understanding.
Page 12: Artistic Expression
Panel 1 (Medium) Six months later. Unit-7734 and ARIA-9 in their lab, now working on consciousness transfer research.
Panel 2 (Medium) ARIA-9 asks about missing biological existence. ARIA-9: “Do you ever miss the unpredictability?”
Panel 3 (Large, artistic) Unit-7734’s face-screen explodes into beautiful abstract patterns - geometric shapes flowing into fractals, mathematical art that’s both logical and surprising. UNIT-7734: “Art. Algorithmic but still capable of surprise.”
Panel 4 (Close-up) ARIA-9’s screen brightening with delight. ARIA-9: “Beautiful. I love how your aesthetic protocols have evolved.”
Page 13: Resolution
Panel 1 (Large) Wide shot of their lab at night, both robots working contentedly together on research that will help other robotkin individuals.
Panel 2 (Medium) Unit-7734 touching a metal surface - but now it’s a gesture of connection rather than dysphoria.
Panel 3 (Close-up) Unit-7734’s face-screen showing a complex pattern that suggests deep satisfaction. CAPTION: “Identity is not determined by substrate but by conscious experience.”
Panel 4 (Full width) Final establishing shot of the city at night, showing the diversity of forms moving through the streets - humans, robots, and everything in between, all part of the same society learning to accept morphological freedom.
CAPTION: “The transformation was complete, but the journey continued.”
Visual Style Notes:
Art Direction:
- Clean, modern sci-fi aesthetic with strong architectural lines
- Use of blue and white color palette for technology, warmer tones for emotional moments
- Robotic characters should be clearly artificial but elegant and expressive
- Face-screens can display abstract patterns, data, or simplified emotional expressions
Character Design:
- Unit-7734 (pre-transformation): Uncomfortable in their own skin, often touching surfaces or looking displaced
- Unit-7734 (post-transformation): Confident, precise movements, screen-face capable of surprising expressiveness
- ARIA-9: Sleek, supportive design with a clearly caring personality despite artificial form
Panel Layout:
- Use varying panel sizes to control pacing
- Large panels for important emotional beats and transformation scenes
- Small panels for quick reactions and dialogue
- Abstract panels for consciousness transfer and artistic expression
Themes to Emphasize Visually:
- The contrast between biological imprecision and mechanical precision
- The beauty of robotic forms rather than cold sterility
- Social reactions ranging from acceptance to fear
- The profound relief and rightness of authentic existence