“I’m… a munitions engineer,” Sarah said. “But I’m pretty good with words too I guess.” Not this good, though. She thinks I’m not speaking English. Aren’t I? Modifying the primitive sections of a brain so that she thought aliens were sexy was one thing. That made enough sense that she’d been afraid that this process would make her into guys. Apparently not—but would she have known if she was speaking another language? Maybe in the time she’d been just bits and bytes in a computer somewhere the brainiacs had cracked the neurological code at last.