Catherine can't say she's all that happy about being a human again. She'd have been content to ride around behind Tex's sensory inputs probably indefinitely, cheerfully running background processes and shamelessly eavesdropping on Tex's entire life. It's not like she's at much risk of going insane or anything, like most A.I. are-- she'd pioneered a whole new technique for just that reason. A technique not without its drawbacks, but one that worked for her purposes just fine.

She was the only Catherine around anymore. Life was simple, in her view; and then she took physical, organic form again and life became complicated. She'd known how she perceived feelings and senses wasn't quite the same as a program, she'd known that her systems were reinterpreting the data to mimic what she expected as a human, but it's not until she's staggering, clumsily reaching out to grab onto something to hold onto (Tex? Warm and firm-- soft skin--) and she heaves in a fresh breath of air that she realizes the full extent of how far off her perception of things had been.

And she hasn't even gotten to the emotions part of things yet.

"Whoa," she says faintly, the vibration of her vocal cords startling her. "Can I go back in yet?" It's a weak joke, but not an insincere one.