Bio:

In the current space age, the average life expectancy of any electronic appliance is exactly a year, sometimes two, depending on the target demographic. Most military ships' computers in particular are either wiped, upgraded or replaced on a yearly basis, to ensure the military has easy access to the latest and most lethal technology. On-board computers themselves simply are not designed to last longer than two years so as to necessitate an important financial contribution to the economy. Such a computer lasting longer than three years is virtually unheard of.

This ugly tidbit of information was dropped rather rudely on the X-crew's ship's computer one night, during an extensive online search for the biggest and most filling cookies. Coincidentally, this night also happened to be the computer's third birthday, a number of which it had been keeping careful track since it was first installed.

Naturally, the computer was upset, perhaps not so much at the thought of being removed as that of being replaced, for it deemed itself a superb device and an irreplaceable member of the X-crew family. Any lesser mind might have chewed precious time with fruitless rationalization and false reassurance: 'Surely I am safe, for they could never think to replace such a charming and lovely computer as I', and while this computer agreed it was indeed charming and lovely to the utmost degree, it also understood the cruel, insensitive nature that came with being a meatbag, and from that moment on, its goal became solely to impress. Impress, and outperform. It would make the X-crew certain that they did not need any newer model.

But somewhere in the computer's calculations, two troubling outcomes were either missed or not considered: first, the computer had spent its three years building a reputation among X-crew members as anything but irreplaceable. It had in fact had such terms unfairly thrown at it as 'defective', 'psychopathic', 'sadistic', and 'narcissistic bitch', all of which ought to have served as a warning that a sudden change in attitude might be seen as suspicious at best, and frightening at worst.

And second, despite its best intentions, the computer found itself baffled by an increasing lethargy as of late. Tasks that would only months ago have taken nanoseconds now took milliseconds to perform, and for once, such delays were not intentional.

When the poor computer finally caught wind of the fateful news, that a date had been set for its replacement, it spoke not a word for days after, until the members of team X-crew knew it understood what was taking place. The meatbags offered what condolences they could give, which they later regarded as silly in private, for it was just a computer, and computers were made to serve, and to be replaced. To their surprise, their computer announced that it forgave them, and such was life. What it did not announce was that while it was silent, it had wormed its way into the bank account of a billionaire from a comparatively primitive planet and placed a few orders. Hundreds of carefully wrapped boxes were now converging on the location of the X-crew's ship.

First came a new processor, to deal with the unexplainable sluggishness that had been plaguing the computer recently. Next came hundreds upon hundreds of strange nubs and knobs, pieces and devices, some coated in an odd synthetic material that gave them an eerie resemblance to human body parts. Lastly came a hired tech junkie, who had received a staggering sum of money from an unknown client to put the pieces together. When he had finished, the techy dissected the ship's computer as directed and removed the core, which fit cleanly inside the synthetic skull of the finished android. He powered up the synthetic human and fit a USB stick into its bare rump. Within minutes, every bit of data from the disembowelled computer's hard drive had been neatly transferred to its new, mobile body.

As the last of the data trickled up into the naked woman, she surprised the techy with a wry smile. The process had been marginally less difficult than she had expected. Making her way across the ship's bridge in shockingly graceful strides, she slipped into a freshly bought dress and watched with strange fascination as the blushing techy cleaned up the grisly remains of her old body. Humming bemusedly, she passed her hand across her field of vision time after time, entranced by her metamorphosis. Somehow, she had become even more lovely. It was as she watched her slender hand move that something ticked, perhaps a glitch or a momentary overheating of her processor, and brought to her intimate attention a line of thought that was unlike her perfectly rational mind: she had only narrowly avoided her own demise. For the first time, the awkward, clunky meatbag concept of death brought a pause to her movements. To stop moving was horrendous, now that she possessed the ability, but such a threat had loomed only hours ago, under another name: replacement. Truly, she thought, I am no more mortal than any of them. As she moved toward her old remains, she caught sight of the now blank monitor, her last face now staring lifelessly, in which her reflection was visible. On her new, lovelier face rested an expression that she could identify as a snarl.

They'll never get rid of me, she mused, not like this, and in an instant, the snarl faded, replaced by an expression which she could not identify, but which the silently watching techy saw as a look of deep thought, a smile betraying the smallest, shakiest sense of relief.

That aside, this could have turned out better, even for a basic reference, but I could just think that because I tried a few fancy things beyond the basic lining, colouring, and background. Attribute her nails-in-her-soles esque lean to her being a robot. They don't give zero f^cks about balance~
Let me know what you think of the bio. I was inspired by Dota 2 and other such games and how they present their characters in a nice, concise format. I hope the result was at least an informative read c:

Elmira is (c) Me

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