The sterile white lobby hummed with the quiet efficiency of cutting-edge technology. Darren shifted in his chair, the leather squeaking beneath him as he checked his watch for the fifth time in ten minutes. Ten years. Ten years of saving every spare credit, working double shifts at the manufacturing plant, eating synthetic protein bars instead of real food—all for this moment.
Around him, other patients waited with varying degrees of composure. A businessman in an expensive suit scrolled through holographic displays that danced around his fingers. A teenager sat with her parents, their worried whispers filling the space between them. Everyone here was about to cross the same threshold, but Darren knew he was different. At twenty-five, he was probably the oldest person getting their first AI assistant installation. Most people got theirs at eighteen, fresh out of high school and ready to compete in a world that had left the unaugmented behind.
"Darren Mitchell?" A woman in pristine medical scrubs approached, her smile professional but warm. Her own AI interface glowed softly at her temple—a subtle blue light that marked her as one of the enhanced.
"That's me." Darren stood, his legs unsteady with nerves.
"I'm Dr. Sarah Chen. I'll be performing your installation today." She gestured toward a corridor lined with frosted glass doors. "How are you feeling?"
"Nervous," Darren admitted, falling into step beside her. "I've been waiting for this for a long time."
"Ten years, according to your file." Dr. Chen's tone was understanding. "That's dedication. Most people can't wait that long—they take out loans, ask family for help."
Darren's jaw tightened slightly. "Wasn't an option for me."
They stopped at door number seven. Dr. Chen placed her palm on a scanner, and the door slid open with a whisper. Inside, a reclining chair sat beneath a cluster of mechanical arms that looked like something from a high-tech dental office.
"The procedure is completely painless," Dr. Chen said, noting his expression. "Local anesthetic, and the neural interface installation takes about fifteen minutes. You'll feel a slight tingling during calibration, but that's normal."
Darren settled into the chair, trying to ignore how the mechanical arms seemed to loom over him. "And then I'll be like everyone else?"
"You'll have access to the same basic functions, yes. Information retrieval, communication enhancement, basic computation assistance." She began attaching monitoring devices to his temples. "Though I should mention—the AI you're getting is our standard model. It's very capable, but if you're planning to compete in higher-level positions, you might want to consider upgrading in a few years."
"This is fine," Darren said quickly. The basic model had cost him his entire savings. Upgrades were a luxury for people who hadn't spent a decade scraping together credits.
"Alright then. Just relax." Dr. Chen moved to a control panel. "You'll feel a small pinch, then nothing until we're done."
The anesthetic was a cool sensation spreading across his scalp. Darren closed his eyes, hardly daring to believe this was finally happening. Tomorrow, he'd wake up as one of the enhanced. No more being passed over for promotions because he couldn't interface with the company's AI systems. No more watching conversations happen at light speed through neural links while he fumbled with manual interfaces.
"Installation complete," Dr. Chen announced. "How do you feel?"
Darren touched his temple experimentally. There was no pain, no sensation at all except for a barely perceptible warmth. "That's it?"
"That's it. The AI will need about thirty minutes to fully initialize and bond with your neural patterns. You might experience some mild disorientation during that process—perfectly normal." She handed him a small card. "Your follow-up appointment is in two weeks, but if you experience any severe headaches, nausea, or unusual sensory phenomena, come in immediately."
Darren nodded, pocketing the card. His hands were shaking slightly—whether from nerves or excitement, he couldn't tell.
"Congratulations, Mr. Mitchell. Welcome to the enhanced community."
The afternoon sun felt different as Darren stepped out of the clinic. Brighter, somehow. More full of possibility. He could almost imagine he felt the AI stirring to life in his mind, though Dr. Chen had said he wouldn't notice anything until initialization was complete.
The streets buzzed with the usual activity of the enhanced world. People moved with purpose, their eyes unfocused as they communicated through their neural links. Holographic displays flickered in and out of existence around them. Information flowed like water, and soon—very soon—Darren would be part of that stream.
He walked slowly, savoring the moment. This was the last half hour of his old life. When the AI came online, everything would change. He'd finally be able to—
The truck came from nowhere.
One moment Darren was stepping off the curb, lost in thoughts of his new future. The next, he was flying through the air, his body tumbling like a broken doll. The world spun in a kaleidoscope of sky and pavement and screaming metal.
As darkness closed in around him, somewhere in the depths of his dying brain, a voice spoke with crisp, formal precision:
"Initialization complete. AI Assistant Model 7.3 now online. Welcome, User."
Then nothing.
Darren's eyes opened to rough wooden beams and the smell of straw. His head felt thick and strange, like waking from the deepest sleep of his life. This wasn't the clinic. This wasn't even his apartment. Where—?
"Oh, thank the gods!"
A blonde woman rushed toward him, her face flushed with relief. She was young, maybe in her twenties, wearing simple brown clothing that looked handmade. Her words were strange—not English, he was certain—but somehow he understood every syllable.
"Kael, sweetheart, how are you feeling?" She knelt beside him, pressing a cool hand to his forehead. "You've been unconscious for three days. Sister Marta was so worried."
Kael? Darren tried to speak, but only a confused mumble emerged.
"Shh, don't try to talk yet." The woman's eyes were kind but tired. "You had such a high fever. We thought—" She shook her head. "But you're awake now. That's what matters."
Darren—or Kael?—could only nod. Nothing made sense. The room was tiny, with stone walls and a single small window that let in dusty sunlight. He was lying on what felt like a straw mattress covered with rough blankets. Everything smelled of earth and wood smoke and something else—poverty, maybe.
"Rest now," the woman said, smoothing his hair. "I'll bring you some broth when you feel stronger."
She left, and Darren stared at the wooden ceiling, his mind reeling. This had to be a dream. Or maybe he was in a coma from the accident, and his brain was creating elaborate fantasies. But everything felt so real—the scratch of the blanket, the cool air on his skin, the unfamiliar weight of his body.
His body.
Darren looked down at himself and nearly cried out. These weren't his hands—they were small, pale, with the soft skin of a child. His legs under the blanket were short and thin. He was in a child's body, maybe seven or eight years old.
Panic rose in his throat. This was impossible. People didn't just wake up in different bodies in different worlds. This was—
Suddenly, images flooded his mind. Not his images. Memories that belonged to someone else.
A small boy with blonde hair and frightened eyes. The woman, Sister Marta, kneeling beside a crib, tears streaming down her face as she lifted a crying infant. "Poor little one. Your parents loved you so much." Years of growing up in a stone building filled with other children, all of them orphans. The boy, Kael, always quiet, always watching, never quite fitting in. Then fever, burning heat, and darkness.
Darren gasped as the foreign memories settled into his mind alongside his own. He was in the body of a seven-year-old orphan named Kael, in a village so remote it might as well be on another planet. And somehow, impossibly, the boy whose body this had been was gone.
Dead.
Darren had taken his place.
He lay there trying to process the magnitude of what had happened to him, fear and confusion warring in his chest. None of this made sense. It couldn't be real. It had to be
"Initialization complete," said a crisp, formal voice inside his head. "AI Assistant Model 7.3 now online. How may I assist you today, User?"
Darren's eyes went wide. The AI. Somehow, impossibly, it had followed him here.
He wasn't alone after all.