In another life, I was a criminal. Got my start in hot commods, knockin off a pawn shop, and another, but I never pulled a piece on a manager. The way we'd do it was, we'd tamper with their locks and the electronics and their security circuitry. Huh - now I'm in nanobionics... All these codes in me...
No, that was in another reality, when I hacked into the DOD to reclaim my taxes, along with whatever dividends an occupation extends to its investors whose sons are not the men they're sending into shrapnel infested dens... They're not.
In another dimension, I was a veteran. Reinventing myself through flashbacks, post-traumatic panic attacks, rifling through my jackets for things that used to be in my pockets. Keys and quarters, a pen and a battered notepad: things that I could hold in my hands... But they've all been supplanted by this information implanted by the government cheese and their surgery bay lackeys. Need-to-know? This basis is wish-I-didn't, and I took it to a black market doctor to extract these...
Wait. That was in a different existence when they botched the operation (two...one...), fused this new technology to my psyche. Military-grade machinery in miniature met millions of generations neural network development and now... I embody the singularity...
All these codes in me, I'm composed of these...