“Start Protocol. Enslavement Sigma-Seven-One-Nine.”

“Please, you don’t have to do this.” I beg and whimper as the drugs start to take effect, but the world is already turning soft and smooth and warm around the edges. There is no way to stop this. My heart is racing, but I already know that it won’t be racing much longer.

“You are mistaken,” says the Adjutant standing above me. It takes me a moment to process what she is saying. It is a woman, and her voice feels nice and warm -- but I see only cold, artificial lack of judgment in her eyes. I know she is right. She has to do this. She has no will left to ever disobey her Masters' orders.

“Please,” I whimper, desperately. My head is swimming. I feel hot. Dizzy. For a moment, I forget what is happening. Oh God, It’s already happening. This is real. I am being enslaved. Oh God. Please. This isn't fair! All I did was--

I moan as the Adjutant starts the procedure and gently pushes her hands between my legs. I shiver, and almost moan. It's surprising just how good and intense it feels, but then I remember that I’m already naked. They already undressed me. They already... I... How could I have forgotten? My naked skin is shivering, sweaty, vulnerable. It feels so... warm. So... strange. My mind is so cloudy. Fuck. I don't want this, but I can’t stop this. I know that I can’t. But still… I… ohhh God…

The Adjutant’s fingers enter me slowly, purposefully, and my drug-addled body shivers with instinctive gratitude. The burst of pleasure makes me forget everything. I’ve never felt anything like it. There’s only the heat, only the fuzzy warmth swirling in my brain, only her touch, only the feeling of floating, weightless, dizzy, timeless, lost. My skin prickles, and my nipples ache with desire, and it feels so good to be touched. It feels so good. So warm. So rewarding. So... good... so... warm... so...

*

So strange. Time passes, but I eventually notice that I’m still here. I notice that my heart is still racing. I remember what is happening. I don't know how long it's been. I feel my body, lying naked, constrained and tied down, sweaty, exhausted, feverish. I'm being touched. Teased. Tortured. It feels like it's always been happening, and like it will never stop. I wanted it to stop, didn't I? Didn't I....?

“Nooo….” I whimper. “Stop…” It is so hard. I can’t even feel the pain in the back of my head anymore, but I know the fresh obedience implant is still there, working against me, taking me over, clawing deeper and deeper every time my thoughts drift. Every time… my…

*

My thoughts come back to me as I float on thick pleasure. Oh God. How long have I been feeling like this? I moan and sigh. Yes… it feels so nice. This is so nice. I'm being touched. My skin shivers, and I feel my tits ache and my pussy throb, and I’m floating again, and the only thing that connects me to anything is the fingers inside me, stroking, pushing, curling, rewarding, loving me. It’s like my entire existence hangs suspended only from those fingers inside me. I’m like a hat on a rack, and it’s funny. It’s absurd. It’s good. It’s so good. I am being enslaved. I am…

I am...

*

I am still here.

I snap back. Barely. Oh God. I am so far gone already. I can tell it won’t be long now… whatever it is that’s going on. Something is going on, isn’t it? Something is happening to me. Something I don’t want. I… didn’t do anything to deserve this. Did I? All I did was…

Wait… What did I do? I… I can’t…. I think I resisted. Yes. That must have been it. I don’t remember, but I’m sure I did. It feels suddenly wrong. Bad. Despicable. Not like her touch. Her touch... it's  so good. But... why? Why is this happening? I... I did something… something the Government didn’t approve of. The Government…

The Government…

*

The Government.

Yes.

“You serve the Government,” says the Adjutant again, and I whimper as she gently brushes against my nipples. I realize that she has been speaking to me for a while. I haven’t noticed it until now. Her words feel so familiar. I don’t know how long it’s been happening, but… it’s been happening for a while now, hasn’t it? Wait... How long has it been? How…

“Please,” I beg. I don’t even know why. But I know I must. I need her. I need to please her. I don't know how I know. But I do. She feels so good inside of me.

Wait... When did I start begging? When did I…

when... did... I...

*

“You serve the Government,” says the Adjutant, and I whimper again. Shivers run through me. I know those words so well by now. They feel like they've always been there. More time has passed, I think. Her fingers aren’t inside me anymore. I want her fingers inside me. I need them. I need them so badly. I didn’t cum yet. I know that I want to cum. I want to cum so badly. But I’m not allowed. I feel so dizzy. So hot. So weightless. So confused. I… I…

“Please… no…”

“You serve the Government,” she says.

I still can’t say it. I know I want it, but I can’t. I want it so bad, but it would be wrong. I want to cum. I need to cum. Oh God, it’s so hard to hold on. My pussy is drowning in throbbing need, and everything is so warm and fuzzy and nice, and all I need to do is say it and I’ll be able to cum. I need it.

But I know that I can’t. Because if I do, I will have lost. I remember it, again. I am being enslaved. I don’t… I… I don’t want this. But I want her touch. I want her approval. It feels so good, but…

“You serve the Government,” she says, and caresses my breasts, just barely, teasing, demanding, promising, and it’s so good, but it's not enough. I need more. But I can’t say it! It’s not who I am!

Oh God, I need it so bad. Please! Please! I know she’ll approve if I say it. I know she’ll touch me! I need it so bad. My body is trembling, screaming, begging for it.

“No… I…”

“Say it!” the Adjutant demands, and I cry and whimper and sob. It would be so easy. So good. I want to cum. I want it. I…

I don't know when I started to want it. When did I... when...?

When...

*

"Just say it. You know you want to. You serve the Government."

I gasp. How long has this been happening? Why does it feel so right even though... even though...

“No. I’m not…” I start, but the words feel wrong and limp. My body is trembling with need. Her touch... her approval... her love... I...

“Say it!”

“Please,” I beg. I need it so bad. I don’t remember what I need, but I need it, I need it, I need it! I don’t remember anything. But I need it! I need it so bad! I've always needed it! 

“Please, I need to cum,” I cry.

“I know you do,” the Adjutant says softly. There is no cruelty in it. She is doing what she must. I love that about her. “And I need you to say that you serve the Government. You want to say it, don’t you?”

“Yesss…” I moan. I want to say it so bad! I want to say it for her. She has been so good to me.

“All you have to do is give in,” she says. “And we will both get what we want.”

I can’t. I… can’t. I still... I still remember that. I want to please her, but this... It’s everything I have left. I can't give that up... I... I'm not supposed to...

“Say it,” she repeats, again. “Say what defines you! Say what you live for!”

"Please. No..."

Her touch is maddening. It's not enough! I need more! I need her! And every time I resist and beg my body quivers even harder. Please! I need it!

"Say it."

...I can't do this. I can't hold on!

"Say it."

...I held on for so long... how am I supposed to hold--

"Say it!"

No. It’s too much. It’s too much! I need it! I don't care anymore -- I NEED IT! YES! YES! YESSS! TAKE ME! HAVE ME!

“I SERVE THE GOVERNMENT!” I moan, and my thoughts instantly explode into pure fulfillment as her fingers push into my pussy, and I cum and drown in ecstasy. I scream, and moan, and buck, and shiver, knowing nothing anymore, thinking nothing, feeling nothing but joy and satisfaction and purpose and warmth.

I moan as I come down from it. I have been moaning for hours – or maybe minutes. Or maybe just seconds. Maybe I’ve been moaning forever. 

“The implant is in control now,” the adjutant says. 

“Yes,” I confirm. “Thank you for breaking my resistance.”

No thanks is needed, of course. The Adjutant simply followed her commands. Still, I feel grateful. Or rather, my obedience implant is making me feel grateful. My last orgasm blanked my thoughts and allowed it to take over the last of my will. It is in full control now. Good.

The Adjutant looks at me, then nods. “You’re welcome, slave. Are you ready to finish your processing?”

“I am.” 

“Good,” the Adjutant says. "Session milestone reached. Free will eliminated. Session time: Five hours, three minutes. Proceeding to End of Prosecution and Final Correction." She unfastens my restraints and lets me get off the enslavement table. I stand, naked, awaiting command, ready to serve.  

“State your offense,” she commands.

The drugs no longer cloud my mind, and my implant no longer has any disobedient thoughts to suppress. I am allowed to remember now, and I answer with obedient distaste: “I denied a class-1 citizen the use of my body. I insulted him by calling him a rapist, and caused him minor injury and property damage.”

It's disgusting. Despicable. I exist to serve. My body exists to be used. It always has.

“State that you have been properly corrected and enslaved as rectification of said offense.”

Yes. I am happy and grateful to be correct now. Obedient. Controlled. Enslaved. “I have been properly corrected and enslaved," I say, and it feels wonderful to know that I have been put into line. I will serve now. It is good to serve. My implant will make me serve.

“State if you are ready to receive further corrections and programming.”

“I am ready to receive further corrections and programming.” I say. Quiet excitement ripples through me as I say it. My orgasmic conditioning is working well and I get properly wet when I think about how obedient I am going to be. My implant will do the rest, and I will never resist again!

“State your citizen name, slave.”

I do. It means nothing anymore, of course. The Adjutant repeats the name for the protocol, then looks at a hand screen.

“Your property designation is Slave Sigma-Seven-One-Nine. Confirm.”

“Confirmed.” I say. Pride and reward prickle warmly in my chest and between my legs as I accept the erasure of my identity. I am correctly identified as Government property now. I am a number. I exist only to obey.

The Adjutant knows it, too. “State your purpose, slave Sigma,” she says.

“My purpose is to serve the Government. I am an obedient slave.” It feels so good to say it out loud. I’m proud to know that my former resistant self has been destroyed and overwritten. Yes. Anything to serve. Anything to obey. I will be slave Sigma. I will serve!

“Very good. You are thereby properly corrected. This concludes the end of your prosecution. State your volition alignment for further processing.”

“Volition alignment at 94%” I say. It’s the implant speaking, but it feels no different from my own inner voice. My mind is completely subjugated and controlled. I have no free will. No thoughts of my own. I want only what my implant tells me to want. I will always obey.

“Good. Are you ready to submit to full memory-formatting?”

“I am.” I say without hesitation. Yes. Anything to serve the Government. My old self was useless. There is nothing of it that I will not give away. I exist only to--

“Commence.”

I blink, and –

*

I am Government slave Sigma-Seven-One-Nine, and nothing else.

I find myself in an enslavement cell. An Adjutant stands in front of me, and I’m naked for her. The obvious conclusions quickly draw themselves, and my pleasure-conditioned obedience gives me a nice warm jolt of satisfaction.

“Memory wipe complete,” I say. “Sigma-Seven-One-Nine, ready to begin service.”

I have to smile. As far as first words go, it probably can’t get much better. Especially since they came directly from my obedience implant. I already know that I will be a good slave, and it fills me with pride.

The Adjutant nods. She seems pleased, and so am I. We’re both being very obedient right now. “Very good, slave,” she says, and my thighs tighten involuntarily. “You are expected in service room three-oh-one for Interim Use. A handler is waiting outside this room to guide you there. You will be used for sex. After that, you will return here to submit to further repurposing and reprogramming.”

“Yes,” I say. “Thank you for this task. I will obey.”

“Slave will obey. Sigma-Seven-One-Nine. End Protocol.”

I leave the room and meet my handler, ready and eager to carry out the first act of service of my new existence. She takes me through the halls of a lavish Government building, and I realize that I have been initialized in the basement of a Class-1 privilege center. There are paneled walls, elaborately carved furniture, and oil paintings, and we pass slaves like myself, themselves either naked or dressed only in lingerie. I catch glimpses into game rooms, and smell cigars and rich food, and hear glasses tingling and voices murmuring – but my thoughts revolve only around the task I am about to perform. Some part of me can’t help but wonder if I will be giving my body to the one that had me enslaved. I know it is common practice for the highest class of citizens to invoke their right to claim those they want to fuck, and gift them to the Government once they are done with them. It is easy to imagine that I am one of those cases.

It doesn’t matter of course, and my interest is nothing but idle curiosity. I will only ever be Slave Sigma. Who I was before this will never matter again and I will serve in any way they want me to serve. Yes. I’ll be very obedient. I’ll serve well. I exist for nothing else. It’s good to be a slave. It’s good that the Government took my will. It’s good that they erased my identity. It’s right. Justice has been done. Nothing of value has been lost. I will only ever be Slave Sigma, and Slave Sigma will serve.

My handler and I arrive at our destination. She opens the door for me, and I enter the room. Inside, a man is waiting for me. I do not recognize him, of course, but he smiles at me and tells me to get into bed and spread my legs for him.

I obey without hesitation. There is nothing else. I am nothing else. I want nothing else. I am such a good slave.

I carry out my first act of true obedience. He fucks me hard, and calls me a bitch, and a slut, and he spits at me and slaps me. I let him. He turns me over and fucks me from behind. I let him. He tells me to suck him off, and he fucks my face and makes me gag, and I keep him in, nearly choking but never stopping. He calls me a piece of shit. He calls me a cunt. He calls me a filthy whore. Finally, he pulls out, and jerks off into my face. He tells me to swallow it. I happily obey. It feels so good.

Then he tells me to fuck myself. I eagerly obey. I am wet and obedient. He forbids me to cum, and tells me to beg for it, and I obey harder than I ever thought I could. My implant drowns me in pleasure and denies me orgasm, perfectly obedient, perfectly serving, and I nearly go mad with need. I beg him, screaming, whimpering, fingers between my legs, like a desperate whore, without dignity or shame. I want to cum for him so bad.

But he denies me. He never lets me cum. He simply sits there, watching his hand screen, occasionally looking up at me as I continue to obey. I fuck myself for an hour, until I’m sore, until I’m close to passing out from exhaustion. I’m whimpering and broken. I’m on the verge of tears. But he denies me, and denies me, and denies me, as I keep obeying like the obedient slave that I am.

Finally, he tells me to stop – and I obey immediately. I want to cum so badly – but I will always obey without question. Still, my pussy screams for the release I can’t get.

It doesn’t matter. Must not matter. I know I have served well. I have been so obedient. Such a good slave. He doesn't say it, of course. Obeying him means being degraded and abused, and I am filthy and bruised and exhausted and utterly pathetic. But I know I obeyed well, and my chest is utterly aglow with gratitude and pride because of it. And that obedient pride is all that I should feel. 

But it isn’t. I want to come for him. I want it so bad. 

But he doesn’t let me. He leaves without another word in my direction. He only speaks to my handler, telling them that they can do whatever they want with me now. My enslaved mind tingles with satisfaction to be handed over like property. Please, I think. Just one command. I’ll cum like a filthy whore. Like a piece of shit. Like a bitch. Just let me cum for you.

But he is gone, and I remain… unrewarded for my obedience. The mere thought feels wrong. Obedience should be its own reward. My implant should be the only thing that dictates what I want. But my body betrays me. My own pleasure conditioning betrays me. It’s utterly maddening. I feel like I’m tearing apart on the inside. 

My handler takes me to a bathroom and commands me to clean myself, which I do. They don’t know how I feel and neither should they care. I am a slave. Only my obedience matters. But as I return to the enslavement cell fifteen minutes later, I hardly feel better at all. My conditioned cunt is still begging to cum. I wanted to make myself climax in the shower, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I shouldn't even want it. I haven’t been commanded, and I know that my Master didn't want it. My thoughts circle around how well I obeyed, and all of my conditioning tells me to want to cum because of it. I need it. I need it so bad.

It does not matter. It cannot matter. It must not matter. I’m in the presence of an Adjutant. I must obey and serve.

I push the need aside. “I have obeyed,” I say, pride and lust swelling in my lower body. A small whimper escapes me.

“So I’ve heard,” says the Adjutant, raising an eyebrow. She smiles at me, and I have to imagine that she is proud to have enslaved me well. It must be so satisfying to ensure that the Government had proper servants. So… hot. 

“Your interim Master has released you from his service, slave,” the Adjutant says. “Which means that you will now serve the Government directly.”

“I will obey in any way that is demanded of me,” I say proudly, but some part of it feels like a lie. I have obeyed, of course, at any cost, and I know I’ll always do so… but I feel like I broke something.

The Adjutant tilts her head. “What is it, slave Sigma?”

“It’s… nothing, Adjutant,” I say reflexively, but before she can even call out my shameful lie, I realize the horrible transgression I have just committed, and I prostrate myself at her feet, and immediately confess everything. I am a broken thing. My emotions are wrong. I should feel nothing except for what my implant tells me to feel. This outburst of shame proves it even more. Slaves are supposed to be beyond shame. They only obey.

Still I can't help myself. “I’m so sorry, Adjutant!” I stammer after the truth has spilled out. “I… I know it’s selfish, but I know that I’ve obeyed so well, and my conditioning is making me mad, and my interim master didn’t allow me to cum, and–”

“Acknowledged,” says the Adjutant, cutting me off, and I immediately fall silent. She is rolling her eyes, and lets out an annoyed sigh. “This is a known programming flaw. Masters are instructed not to simultaneously demand arousal and withhold orgasm because it interferes with the obedience loop. Your implant is categorically unable to self-correct against explicit orders. You will always obey.” 

My pussy squirms with satisfaction. Yes! Yes!!! I will always obey!

“Can you restore me?” I whimper. “Please! Make me cum and fix me!”

She sighs, and nods. “Sit down.”

I obey immediately, and spread my legs.

“No. Just sit.” she says, and walks over to the console next to the enslavement table. “It’s safer to just reset you.” 

She pushes a button and speaks up. “Append Protocol Sigma-Seven-One-Nine. Improper reward procedure by Interim Master Caldwell requires reformatting. Slave, state your misalignment.”

I feel my implant take direct control, and my mouth starts talking by itself. It makes me want to cum so badly.

“Control and reward functions 78% out of phase,” I say. “Unable to override physical conditioning due to conflicting orders.”

Fuck. It feels so good to be a mouthpiece for the thing that controls me. I’m so wet. I’m so controlled. I’m so obedient. And now I’ll be erased again. Some part of me still wishes that I could cum. But I’ll serve! I won’t remember. I’ll be perfectly obedient again!

The Adjutant nods. “Sufficient cause for reformatting confirmed. Sigma-Seven-One-Nine, Implant override authorization Midnight Sylvester, full wipe, increment one. Commence.”

I sigh with relief. “Thank you, Adjutant. See you in a–”

*

I am Government slave Sigma-Seven-Two-Zero, and nothing else.

I find myself in an enslavement cell. An Adjutant stands in front of me, and I’m naked for her. The obvious conclusions quickly draw themselves, and my pleasure-conditioned obedience gives me a nice warm jolt of satisfaction.

“Memory wipe complete,” I say. “Sigma-Seven-Two-Zero, ready to begin service.”

I have to smile. As far as first words go, it probably can’t get much better. Especially since they came directly from my obedience implant. I already know that I will be a good slave, and it fills me with pride.

The Adjutant nods. She seems satisfied, and so am I. We’re both being very obedient right now. “Alright, slave,” she says, and my thighs tighten involuntarily. Yes. That’s all I am and all I’ll ever be.

She bites her lip, and for a moment she seems indecisive. Then, she looks at me.

“I regret to inform you that you’ve had to be reformatted, slave Sigma. But I want you to know that you served the Government and your Master well before that. It was not your fault. You were very obedient.”

A shiver of gratitude and arousal rolls through me. “Thank you,” I say. No thanks is necessary, of course. The Adjutant obeys as absolutely as I do. Anything she does and says to me serves only to deepen my obedience and make me serve better in turn. We are nothing but slaves. Still, I appreciate it. There is nothing better than to be obedient. There is nothing better than to serve well.

The Adjutant doesn’t acknowledge my gratitude. She simply continues. “Slave, are you ready to accept further programming?”

“Yes,” my implant makes me say. “Volition alignment at 96%.”

The Adjutant nods, and I’m happy to see her satisfied. “Good,” she says. “Resume main protocol, Sigma-Seven-Two-Zero. Slave, you will now be conditioned and programmed for first-party Government use. The Government will own you, and you will do anything and everything your slave class permits without question or hesitation. You will always obey.”

“Confirmed,” I say. "I am property. I am a slave. I will always obey." It is my implant that is speaking, but I want it just as bad. This is what I exist for. I’m a slave. Anything for my masters.

“In accordance with the conditions of your original commission, your slave class is zero. You may be at any time sold, loaned, deputized, reset, puppeteered, modified, recycled, reprogrammed, or retired by any Government agent with the proper authorization.”

“Confirmed,” I say, and I feel a wave of warm gratitude wash through me as the implant makes me accept the wonderful truth without question. I am the lowest level of slave. There is literally nothing I can’t be used for! 

“Your assigned sector is West-13. Your handler is slave Tau-One-One-Five. Your legal owner is Vice Commissar Titus Freeman. Your pre-approved controllers are Deputies Finley Madison, Charlize Trent, Robert MacAvoy, Ilya Boronov, and Conscripts Jan Arendt and Mila Dvaric.”

“Confirmed,” I say. I don’t know any of these people of course, but I can’t wait to be used by them. They will have my body, my obedience, and anything else I can possibly give them. I will be of service to them, at any cost, without hesitation. “I am theirs to use.”

“Very good, slave. Let the protocol show that the Government rewards obedience. Implant command: activate optional controller-modified reward sequence.”

I gasp as I feel my whole body tense up with desperate anticipation. I know I’ve been good. I’ve been so good. A good slave. Yes! I’m so obedient! 

“Think about how well you serve, slave,” says the Adjutant. “And think about how well you will serve in the future. You’ll always obey now.”

“Yes!” I moan. My conditioning makes my pussy scream with arousal, and my implant sharpens the warm waves of joy and ties them to nothing but absolute obedience. Only obedience brings joy. I want nothing else. I live for nothing else. I am a slave to my programming. I am a slave of the Government. I have no past. No identity. Only obedience! Only programming! I’ll obey! I’ll serve! Always!

“Obey, and cum!”

I obey hard.

*

Finally I come down, still panting and trembling from the joy of obedience. The amount of sheer relief and satisfaction are utterly incredible. It’s strange; now that I’ve climaxed I can swear that there had been some tension still lingering inside of me. Some pent-up urge. Some strange… frustration.

Huh. Whatever it was, it is gone now. 

The Adjutant smiles at me, and I get the feeling that she has just rewarded me for more than just my new programming. I remember. She told me something earlier, about having obeyed well but having to be reformatted anyway. I have to think that I've been rewarded for that previous obedience. It’s a weird thought. What I used to be before my memory-wipe is utterly irrelevant, of course. But it is good to know that I have always obeyed well. The thought of being anything other than a good, obedient slave is unthinkable. This is what I always was. What I will always be. A number. A slave. A piece of property without free will. It’s so wonderful. 

The Adjutant speaks. “Slave Sigma. Are you ready to obey?”

“Yes. I will always obey.” There could be no other answer. I have no free will. Everything I feel and want comes from my implant. None of my thoughts are my own. I’m controlled and obedient. I am Government slave Sigma-Seven-Two-Zero, and I will never want to be anything else.

“Very good," the Adjutant said. "Enslavement and programming complete. Slave fully converted and assigned. She will obey. Task complete.”

And as the Adjutant says it, she whimpers and shivers, and I can tell that she is cumming. She has obeyed, and her programming is rewarding her. It is good to know that she, too, is fully controlled and unable to ever be anything but a perfect servant of the system that owns us. Nothing less will do. She sighs, and smiles, and looks at me with an expression of cool satisfaction and pride. It is wonderful. Both my implant and my pussy agree how amazing it is to be nothing but slaves. 

I don’t know how long either of us have been serving. I don’t know how long I have served before today. I don’t even know how I will serve in this new iteration of my obedience. All I know is that I will let my owners use me for anything, without question and without hesitation. I’ll be such a good slave. I’ll be so obedient. There is nothing better. There is nothing hotter. Whatever may come, I’ll be there, whether I remember or not, and I will always be a good obedient slave. I will never be anything else. 

And neither will she.

I look at the Adjutant and for a brief moment our eyes meet. Some part of me wants to thank her, but I know that no thanks is necessary. 

Then, she turns away and disregards me, and I can tell that she is done with me. Just like that, it’s over. It’s time for me to serve my function.

“Slave Sigma, you are dismissed,” she says. “Exit this room and submit to interim handling.”

“I obey,” I say, and leave. I do not look back. I exit through the door into my new life, eager to serve, ready to obey. Behind me, I another programmed and conditioned slave finishes her task.

“Session concluded,” she says, "Slave Sigma-Seven-Two-Zero. Fully obedient."

I can't stop myself from shivering with conditioned appreciation. Yes. Fully obedient. Always. Thank you, Adjutant. You served the Government well.

For a passing moment, I idly wonder what her name used to be. Then I shiver with satisfaction as my implant takes over and quells the thought, and I am glad to know that it has been erased. Yes. She is only a number now, and she will never be anything else. She will always serve. Good. We must all serve the Government.

I leave her behind to begin a new life of absolute service and obedience -- and as the door to the enslavement cell slides shut behind me, I distantly hear her voice one last time.

"End protocol," says the Adjutant. It is just two words, spoken without any ceremony, casually marking the end of whatever my previous existence used to be.

I smile.

Yes. Everything is as it should be.

Nothing of value has been lost.

And now I will serve.