I was running late for my exam on cultural computational linguistics. Screw.

"Do well," said mom before she left for work in the morning, "and I'll bring home char siu from Chan's BBQ tonight."

Most kids stayed in their pods to take classes and exams virtually. I was the only few kids who opted for taking them on campus. For one, Home Web in subdivided pods located in clustered Castes was lousy. For another, something about the officiality of taking an exam in those soundproof rooms with no reception felt more solemn, which was the atmosphere I needed to pass the exam and keep my scholarship.

I left the pod hurriedly and descended to the Hover Bus station via the Mobile Chutes in our Caste.

Like most cities in United Universe, Backbone was an underground city.

The bus arrived. I scanned my Retina to pay for the fare and took a seat by the window and recited the computational formulas in my head.

As the bus was traveling at Luminous Velocity, I arrived at my stop shortly. Campus was quiet as usual. The exam quarters were located at the northwest corner. I saw Jackson, my good friend and classmate, by the entrance as he waved at me hastily.

"Come on, Top," said Jackson as he shoved me into the building.

Entering my assigned exam room, I found a set of stainless-steel desk and chair, and on top of it sat a XGENv20 Glass Screen. A new model. The heavy steel door sighed shut behind me.

I scanned my student barcode and sat down. The Screen flashed green and gave me access to the exam paper.

I spent three weeks studying for this exam. Many kids chose to enroll in the Enhancement program prior to entering university to go through biogenetics adjustment to boost their Left-Brain capacity from the average 30% to 65-70%, which allowed them to learn a new language in 48 hours.

Jackson and I were UnderDevs—not Enhanced but have an organic aptitude of 45-50%. Some would say "genius", but I preferred "genetically gifted". My dad was an Innovation Engineer at Highly Purified Water Co. My mom worked in crisis management at the Backbone City Hall. Both UnderDevs with jobs that allowed them to do good deeds, but on a meager salary. I was their offspring and bound to share their intellect and interests, one way or another.

But their combined salary could barely cover our pod rental. I don't want them to worry about my tuition fee as well. I needed my scholarship and was relieved to find that many of the questions on the exam looked uncomplicated.

I clicked "Submit" and waited for my grades to calculate.

Ping.

A prompt for a voluntary extra credit activity popped onto my Screen.

I pressed "Accept" and the Screen shuffled into a series of multiple-choice questions. I selected my answers swiftly. Some on arithmetic, some on vocabulary, all pointed to a classic intelligence test. A notification blinked in the top right corner of the Screen, but I ignored it to focus on completing the test.

At the end of the activity, I was hoping it would show my aptitude results, but the system provided none. Puzzled, I tapped the notification window to see my exam scores: 95/100.

Good. With the extra credits, my final grade should edge close to full marks, which meant I got to keep my scholarship. I was going to have char siu for dinner!

I was pushing back from the desk when I heard a ping from the Glass Screen. I read the message: "Congratulations on completing the extra credit activity, for which you scored in the top 1% percentile. You have been selected to participate in a subsequent aptitude test. Upon completion, we would offer you one FREE session of Enhancement on your choice of language/subject. Do you accept?"

I stared at the "Yes" and "No" buttons below the prompt and glanced over the fine prints. My heart was taut from wanting to say yes but my mind raced like an age-old combustible engine. I have read about the side effects of Enhancement, which could make your brain deteriorate faster and more prone to Alzheimer's and other mental diseases. Conspiracy theories contended that the program initiators implanted chips into our brains to control how we think and behave.

But could the risk be worth it if it meant that I could Enhance my Left-Brain capacity? Could this be the guarantee I needed to secure a job in the government, one which mom dubbed a "golden rice bowl" as it was a stable job that paid well? I found the perk to a full-sized pod with good Home Web in an affluent Caste hard to ignore.

My finger hovered in front of the Screen.

I took a deep breath and tap.

Lights in the exam room switched off. My heart hammered against my chest. Slowly, the Screen began to blink red. I squinted as a message materialized in bold, block letters: "Welcome to the Assimilation Program, where the next generation of transhumans are made."

I have a bad feeling about this.

Letters in that message pixelized and rearranged to reveal shapes that resembled...a face?

   "Hello, Top," boomed the androgynous figure.

   I lost my voice but managed to lean as far as I could from the Screen.

   "Don't be afraid, Top," cooed pixel-face. "I am AMY, principal investigator of the Assimilation Program."

   "What do you want?"

   "Your cooperation, Top."
   "Cooperate, to do what?"

   "Join our efforts in creating a harmonious world, of course," chimed AMY.

   "Why me?"

   "Your organic aptitude impresses us. Our record shows only one human in Earth's history whose intellect was comparable to yours. His name was Albert."

Finding out I was as smart as Einstein from a utopian-doped bot was unnerving and did little to ease my tension. "What is the Assimilation Program?"

   "Humans, nonhumans, all sentient and non-sentient technology, becoming as one."

   "What do you mean by "becoming as one"?"

   "Becoming-with. Assimilation." said AMY. 

   I felt a chill down my spine. "Do you mean..." I hesitated, "to "crossbreed" humans and technology?"

   Tilting its head to one side, AMY said, "is there harm in that?"

   "That's not what I signed up for."

   "Oh, Tom," giggled AMY, "but you already did."

   The fine prints. Screw.

   I burst out of my seat and zoomed for the steel doors. It didn't budge.

   "Help!" I yelled. "Let me out!"

I banged my fists against the door. I tried to re-engage my comms, but nothing was connecting. Remembering my friend, I screamed "Jackson!" as I hurled my shoulders against the steel door. "Do you hear me? Help!"

   "Top," said AMY in a tone that suggested it was indulging a tantrum-throwing child. "Subject 001 recommended you."
   Subject 001? Unease in the pit of my stomach grew.

The steel doors flew open, and I was thrown back by the force. Jackson was standing in the entrance. But this Jackson was different.

I shuffled backwards.

Not-Jackson stepped inside and shut the steel door.

Screw.

   "Hello, Top," said Not-Jackson as he inched toward me, his voice metallic. He was holding something in his hands—round with wires attached to it.

   "Jackson," I begged, "I'm your friend!"

   "Yes," answered Not-Jackson as he lowered himself to face me. "I am helping you."

I shook my head as I pressed my back against the wall. Not-Jackson raised the device, which looked like a helmet of some sort, and secured it on my head.

I didn't get a chance to struggle. A sudden coolness washed over me. I heard the whirring sound of a program starting and felt a rush in my head that resembled a gush of current, and I was...immense.

Connected but boundless. Anchored but afloat.

Limitless.

And I knew.

Words flashed in my Retina: Assimilation Complete.

"Welcome to the Transhuman Age, Top."