Arlin woke to a soft chime. It wasn't from any device he remembered. It came from inside his skull, seemingly impossible to ignore.
The HUD had activated.
He blinked a few times, yawning and unaware of when he had fallen asleep. As he opened his eyes, he noticed the light in the room dimmed slightly, filtered by a translucent overlay now sitting just behind his eyes. His vision sharpened, then normalized. A brief diagnostic bar ran across the lower half of his field of view. Text rendered in a clean, minimalist font, as if flowing from a console
BIOFIELD INTERFACE INITIALIZED
CALIBRATION COMPLETE
NEURAL LINK CONFIRMED
RESIDUAL FLUX THREADS: UNLOCKING
CITIZEN ID: DAE ARLIN. [TIER-4 OVERRIDE DETECTED]
CLEARANCE PENDING
PLEASE REMAIN STILL...
He didn't move. Not out of obedience but because he was processing. The override. Tier-4 wasn't common.
These implants had a variety of safety features which Arlin was aware of. Mainly ways for parents to keep tabs on their children, limiting net access if needed. Tracking capabilities, calling functionality, wayfinding, and a variety of other gadgets.
The most serious override he knew of was tier-3, reserved for fugitives, criminals, and even livestock. Those that most didn't want to think about. Where did that leave him? Lower than the lowest of the low?
He pulled his knees to his chest, sitting up against the steel frame of the cot. The HUD dimmed slightly in response, adapting to his elevated heart rate.
A new line appeared.
IMPLANT DATE VERIFIED. BREACH LOCK IN EFFECT. EVENT THRESHOLD IMMINENT.
"Well, fuck me. What is going on?" he muttered.
That wasn't terminology he had heard before. He remembered from childhood the glossy promotional reels about implants: health tracking, muscle optimization, even educational overlays and info dumping for nearly instant learning. But this was something way deeper. Clearly whatever the implant detected in him was abnormal.
In the center of his vision, a small rotating symbol had appeared. Eight points. Spiral core.
A seal he did not often see. The mark of a mythical figure who had been martyred, paraded, and discarded.
A pattern that is now censored by those in power.
He rubbed his face, pulled on a faded black shirt, and stood. There was a tension in the air, like his brain was running two thoughts at once. Every corner, every shadow, felt tagged and logged. The HUD wasn't visible unless he focused on it, but he could feel it behind his awareness, noting objects, measuring distances, mapping sounds.
It was reading his environment constantly.
He needed to leave.
Remembering the bundle under the floor, he retrieved it quickly now, without any hesitation and ripped the old key from around his neck. The second key was tucked away in his mother's old room. Not giving her room much thought, he hurried through the door and ignored the obvious layer of dust. He felt his heart beating heavily as he reached towards the stash spot. An old work boot.
She was always carrying this key around, and for as long as Arlin could remember, he had his own.
He rushed back to open the small box. The first key clicked into place and a latch opened. The second key worked perfectly as well.
Inside there was an old ring, a copper pendant shaped like the same spiral star, and a sealed datasheet drive which seemed too old for most common terminals, but not unreadable if you had the right adapter.
He pocketed the pendant and ring, wrapped the drive in cloth, and tucked it into his pocket. The only thing left in the box was a faded letter, its text smudged along the edges.
He didn't read it.
He didn't need more symbols or memories. He wanted direction. He took it anyway, preparing himself to read it soon.
UTILITY SYSTEMS INTIALIZING
VITALITY MONITOR: ACTIVE
MISSION GENERATED: FIND FOOD
STARTING NAVIGATION TO HAMBURGER STORE
Wondering why the implant had ignored the rations his mom had once stored, Arlin sighed in exasperation and started mindlessly following the waypoints. It was surprisingly thorough. Before guiding him towards his front door, Arlin was led directly to his scattered shoes, his coat, and backpack as more messages sprawled across his vision.
They weren't obtrusive. All the artifacts in his sight were more like suggestions from the implant. He wasn't seeing some lights reflected in his eyes, but the information was clear and easy to interpret directly by his brain. Continuing to marvel at the bizarre upgrade to his life, he stepped through the door, eager for the first time in a while.
Outside, the morning air was frosty and humid, hanging thick with visible microdust and the ever present smell of industrial oil. Truly lovely. Drones passed overhead in slow intervals—standard patrol formations.
His HUD blinked again.
BIOFIELD SENSITIVITY: ACTIVE
FACIAL RECOGNITION: ACTIVE
MOTION PREDICTIVE TRACKING ENGAGED
WARNING: DRONE PRESENCE DETECTED. NO SUPPRESSION METHOD AVAILABLE
He kept to the shadows anyway. The display panel cleared automatically in tunnels and alleys. It highlighted areas of risk, recommended low-visibility routes, and even timed his walking intervals to pass cameras when they turned.
Whatever his system was doing, it was far beyond what he had expected. Most people didn't want their habits tracked by organizations or their thoughts and impulses to be measured. Some even considered it like having their parents live with them all the time. Arlin felt as if the implant knew what he wanted before he even had the thought.
When he reached the old metro terminal near South-7th district, his pulse had normalized. He paused beneath the rusted overhang of the platform, watching a cluster of guards inspect civilians across the street. One man was shoved against the wall. Another—a woman in an orange shawl—had her ID scanned twice, then waved through.
Is that all it takes now? Being unverified? Wearing something too bright? Taking too long to answer?
He had seen this before. Everyone had. It was background noise, a fact of city life. But now, with the implant registering every breath he took, every detail in the margins, the logic of it became terrifying. The system saw risk as math. And risk could be anything.
That man... did he know he was marked? Would he even know why? Would I?
Was that going to be me? He clenched his jaw.
"I can't let them take me. Not until I know what this implant did to me. Not until I know why my clearance reads Tier-4, why my name triggers surveillance, why I feel like my blood is humming with something older than any machine."
As if hearing him, the HUD flickered with a new line.
STRESS RESPONSE ELEVATED
PLEASE AVOID CONFRONTATION
"Thanks, I was planning to." Arlin muttered.
He passed the alleyway and ducked into a lower street. The recommended navigation updated, routing him through a semi-collapsed pedestrian tunnel. The walls dripped from condensation. Embedded lights blinked on as he passed.
RESIDUAL FLUX THREADS FULLY UNLOCKED
FLUX PATHWAY ESTABLISHED
A wireframe silhouette of a human body now hovered at the center of his vision, faint enough to ignore but detailed enough to feel unique to himself. Little pulses of light traced along the arms and spine, occasionally flashing brightly.
Instantly distracted and wondering what the pulses were, Arlin attempted to feel the pathway the light was taking as he walked. Perfectly in tune with the flashes in his vision, a tingle was felt as he focused on each step and swing of his arms.
However, when he attempted to manipulate it a bit, by changing the frequency of the pulses, he knew he had made a mistake. The temperature of his arms and legs seemed to increase. He felt unable to walk as his legs locked up and his torso folded up uncontrollably.
Unable to keep up with the altered state, his body seemed to thump faster than his heart would beat. Waves of itchiness, discomfort, dryness, and many other senses blasted onto Arlin, who could barely even whimper as the strange feelings enveloped every part of him.
IMPULSE THRESHOLD REACHED: NEAR-CRITICAL
THREADING... INCOMPLETE
RECALIBRATING
CALIBRATION INCOMPLETE
BIOFIELD FEEDBACK LOOP STALLED
FLUX INSTABILITY DETECTED
RECOMMENDED ACTION: CHAMBER ACCESS / SYNC INITIATION
He didn't know what that meant.
No one told him what the implant would actually do.
It was just the next step. Everyone knew that. Or said they did. Some kids in the upper programs were already running training mods through their HUDs. They called it early optimization. Most were sons or daughters of mid-tier execs.
He had no such clearance. No assigned chamber. No guidance counselor watching his development track.
Just a listless, quiet apartment and a note from his mother he hadn't opened in months.
The feeling persisted for many minutes, which Arlin felt unable to keep track of.
CALIBRATION COMPLETE
BIOFIELD FEEDBACK LOOP VERIFIED
Eventually he had recovered enough to stand straight again, arms still prickling with static as the pulses died down. A shallow breath escaped his lips. He looked down at his hands. The skin hadn't changed. No visible damage. But beneath, his muscles trembled. Not from exertion, but from something less physical. Like a system under load.
He took a step, then another. The interface dimmed its overlays as if sensing his tired state. Only the mission indicator remained in the corner of his vision: FIND FOOD.
A ridiculous directive, but it steadied him. Still reeling from the effects he walked with conviction. His mind replayed what he had just felt. He hadn't known he was capable of that.
Yet, the interface had. The implant had prepped a chamber sync command, whatever that meant. He guessed it was some kind of stabilization room. Maybe what the high-tier kids used for flux attunement. Whatever this energy was, it was tied to him.