The year was 2069, and the aliens had already thrust humanity into a warfare the carnage of which made World War 1 look like a room full of red-faced toddlers screaming at one another. That is to say, both were horrifying, but in massively different ways.

I, of course, wasn’t really aware of all this at the time, seeing as I’d been dead.

Okay, I wasn’t totally dead, otherwise I wouldn’t be talking to you now. I was in a kind of half-death, pre-death, semi-death state. I was a soul permalocked in a dying body, just waiting for the sweet release of nirvana… if nirvana is even a real thing and not just some crazy bullshit somebody made up years ago to sell grunge rock to angsty teens with precocious opinions on bodily hygiene.

How did I end up dead, you ask? Well, it’s not relevant, really. Anybody can die. I could’ve jumped in front of a train for all it matters. What really matters is the fact that when I woke up… well, let’s just say that when I woke up, things were a little weird.

So what? What can be weird, anyway, when humanity’s undergoing war against sinister aliens that look suspiciously similar to giant prawns?

I’ll tell you what’s weird. It’s the weirdest damned thing that ever happened to anybody, ever. No, I’m not shitting you. See, when I woke up, I was underwater. Completely submerged.

Normally, this would be pretty troubling to a human. I was a human, you know. Emphasis on the was.

The funny thing about being a marine—did I tell you I was a marine?—the funny thing about being a marine is that, sometimes, big brother really is watching. And I don’t mean a literal big brother, I mean the government. CIA, that kind of stuff. Yea, sure, I had an older brother, the condescending prick, but by the time I’d woken back up from my non-death he was dead. Really dead. He jumped in front of a train, you see.

But enough about me. Well, enough about my brother, at least. And enough about my past. You see the thing about me is that I subscribe to the mantra of never looking back. I don’t look back at the past. Just like that Madi Diaz song. Tomorrow, tomorrow… god, what an absolute banger.

So I’d woken up after being essentially dead. Being essentially dead, by the way, was a terrible head trip. I kept seeing these damn fairies made out of gears dancing around and sticking their five dimensional tongues out at me like I was just some big, dumb oaf. I quite prefer being alive, personally. Even now, considering what I am.

…Look, can I start this over? It can be hard sometimes, being a marine and all, to accurately relate my incredibly intense experiences to civilians. It’s not intentional, it’s just how my brain works these days. I’m very advanced. And hell, I’m only human, after all. Well, I was human.

Okay, take two.

So I wake up after being essentially dead and the first thing I notice is that I’m underwater.

I’m floating!

As my eyes focus, everything I see is either blue or yellowish or just plain grey. Pretty boring, but you know, I’ve looked through night vision goggles and I’ve looked through infrared, so really it’s business as usual.

Speaking of my eyes, they feel different. First of all, they feel wet. Wet as a vienna sausage. But still, different. Like they’re in different places of my head, I guess? And my whole head feels strange. It’s kind of a soft, floaty feeling… listless… and then I look down. I try and crack my knuckles, I was one of the best knuckle crackers you ever met I swear, but I look down and I don’t have any knuckles. I look again, and I notice I don’t even have hands. So what do I have?

Fucking tentacles.

That’s right, I’ve got goddamn tentacles. I mean, what in the fuck is that about? Do tentacles even have joints to crack? And I’m thinking, are these even my tentacles? Maybe I’ve been put into some weird VR alternate reality meta-bullshit by the government while they harvest my brainpower to serve their ill ends.

Or maybe this is all some big hallucination. That’s it! I’m hallucinating these tentacles. I’m hallucinating flexing them around, watching them undulate through the water… feeling the suckers on each of them pucker… yes, it’s all a hallucination! Pharma guys just love loading people up on drugs, it’s the only explanation.

Still, this doesn’t feel like any drug trip I’ve been on. And believe me, I’ve been on a damned drug trip or two. Though really, serving my country was a bigger trip than any of those damn drug trips could ever pretend to be. Samsara my ass. Ego death, my spleen! But I digress.

*ding*

Ding? Why was there a dinging noise? I’m so confused.

“Subject 80085, do not be afraid,” says a lady’s soft voice.

And get this, I hear every bit of it! Which doesn’t make too much sense, you know, because I’m underwater, and even civilians ought to know that sound doesn’t travel too easily through water. Still, I hear this lady speaking sensually to me in my head like she’s almost whispering in my ear!

Then, I wonder if I even have ears. I don’t really feel the presence of ears on my person, that much is for sure, though I don’t know if it can even be considered ‘my person’ when I’ve got all these damned tentacles to deal with. Is a person with tentacles still a person?

“Subject 80085, full name Jason Zachariah Jacobson, I am here to guide you through the early stages of your reorientation,” continues the lady’s voice. “Welcome to the year 2069. You may remember that, before dying of a freak accident while fire watching on the job vis a vis stuffing a thought-to-be-deactivated grenade down your boxer briefs in an attempt at humorous levity, you elected to have yourself enrolled in a special directive known only as project X.”

That does sound familiar. Still, it doesn’t answer my biggest question: What the hell has happened to me, and why do I have tentacles?

“Project X is and was a branch of the CIA’s disaster preparedness programming. In times of unexpected trials and warfare, the government of the United States wanted to ensure that we had a proverbial feather in our cap,” continues the lady. “Part of project X was, to put it bluntly, the creation and cultivation of weaponized super-warriors. Essentially, the idea was to take the minds of some of our most gullib—er, formidable marines and SEALs and implant them into bodies that are even more powerful and capable than their original human forms. Of course, project X isn’t really considered ethical, but it’s the CIA, so who cares?”

Hearing these words makes a wealth of pride swell in my heart for my country. Wait a second. Do I even have a heart? I’ll have to ask this lady about that at some point. If I can ever get a word in edgewise with her, that is. Can I even talk?

“When you originally signed on to project X, you were probably under the impression that the super-warrior body you’d be placed into would be at least human adjacent, if not human itself. However, as you might have already noticed, you are instead now a cephalopod,” says the lady.

I feel stress and anger boiling up inside me like I’m a Brit’s tea kettle. What? A cephalopod? Is that some kind of a futuristic racial slur? If anything, it looks more like I’m an octopus, what with all the tentacles and being underwater and everything.

“It is understandable that you may be frustrated upon learning this,” says the lady. “However, the CIA’s project X team assures you that your current body is far beyond the capabilities and adequacies of a meager human form, and we are more than happy to explain and show you why. A chief reason is that, besides the fact that the numerous enemies you’ll be facing have a primal fear of your new body type, you have a number of powerful technological implants and ehancements that make you a veritable killing machine.”

Wait a fucking second. Did this lady just tell me I was a cyborg?

“Your enhancements are upgradeable and adaptible, and improve themselves through a system of microscopic nanobots we’ve implanted into your DNA,” says the lady. “Currently, you have two enhancements you can access. The project X team has arranged a series of tasks where you will orient yourself to these enhancements, and then learn to upgrade your enhancements under qualified supervision.”

A series of tasks? Interesting.

“As for your first task, let us proceed. You may have noticed that you’re in a glass tank,” says the lady.

I had not noticed that, though of course now I do. I can even see a seam in the far left corner. I feel trapped.

“Do note that the top is sealed shut, and that you have a limited amount of oxygen.”

I look up to the top of the tank. I can’t really see what’s up there other than water. I look down to my tentacles. What the hell am I supposed to do?

“Your first task is simple,” says the lady. “Get out.”