To get to her skin, we had to peel off a carapice of cheap plastattoo biomonitors. Individually, they were the size of postage stamps, but she'd slapped them on one after the other, sometimes because one gave out, sometimes because one promised fancier new functions. At first, I thought, come on, lady, pull the old one off first, you know? But joke’s on me because she’d stuck them to herself with polydopamine glue, the stuff shellfish use to cling to rocks, only stronger.
It basically meant figuring out how to gently exfoliate the mostly dead top layer of her actual cells while she simultaneously ordered us to speed up and told us our intervention was unnecessary. And turns out after all that? She really was in fine health. That was my day today. Some people are way too into lifelogging.