The eviction notice was plastered on his apartment door, printed in a mocking red ink. A fatal error in the life he had painstakingly coded.
Kenzo Naradhipa stared at it blankly, the termination letter from his job clutched tightly in his hand. At 25, his world was collapsing for the umpteenth time.
His phone, lying on a rickety table, vibrated violently, displaying an unknown number. An uninvited denial-of-service attack on his life. With a deep sigh, he answered.
"Hello, is this Kenzo Naradhipa?" The voice on the other end was deep, hoarse, and unfriendly.
"Yes," Kenzo answered curtly.
"We've given you enough time. Your father's debt is long overdue. When are you going to pay?"
"I told you, I'll pay in installments. I need time, I just…"
"We don't care!" the voice snapped. "We know you just got fired. We also know where you live. Don't think you can run away like that coward of a father of yours. Pay up, or we'll come to collect our own way."
The call ended. Kenzo tossed his phone onto the mattress. Silence. Only the ticking of a cheap wall clock filled the void.
Like that coward of a father of yours.
The words echoed, reopening an old wound that had never truly healed.
He walked to a desk drawer and pulled out his only treasure: a worn photograph in a plastic frame. His family. His mother, smiling gently despite the lines of exhaustion etched on her face. Beside her, a sturdy teenager with a confident grin had his arm around a shy, skinny boy. Hanzo and him.
The memories flooded in. His mother's back, bending further each year as she worked tirelessly to provide for the family alone. Then that day, when he came home from school to find her collapsed on the floor, having finally surrendered to unbearable exhaustion. He was only 18 then. Then Hanzo. His brother, his hero. Whose death at 17 was the first blow that shattered his world.
And his father… his image now just a fragment of memories: the sour smell of alcohol on his collar the last time he tried to hug him, and the betting slips he'd found tucked inside his schoolbooks. An inherited debt. A curse passed down from the man who had abandoned him.
Kenzo had fought. Desperately. He earned a scholarship, graduated as a programmer, and landed a decent job. He thought he could rebuild his life upon the ruins of his past. He was wrong. The foundation was too fragile. A single termination letter and a threat from a debt collector were enough to bring it all crashing down.
Desperate, he opened his laptop. His fingers moved unconsciously, typing shameful keywords into the search engine. Amidst the dark corners of the web, a small advertisement caught his eye.
"Participants Wanted for Advanced Neuro-Technology Clinical Trial. Highly Significant Compensation. Full Confidentiality Guaranteed. Requirements: Prime Physical Health and the Courage to Bear Extreme Risks."
There was no company name. Just a link to an encrypted application form. His programmer's brain analyzed it instantly. 'Highly Significant Compensation' was what he needed. 'Extreme Risks'… what else did he have left to lose?
He looked again at his mother's tired face and his late brother's smile in the photograph. They had fought their whole lives only to end in tragedy. He didn't want to end up like them. If he was going to crash and burn, let it be in one spectacular explosion. With a slightly trembling hand, Kenzo Naradhipa clicked the link.
He filled out the form. In the last field, a simple question: "Are you willing to surrender the rights to your body and mind for the advancement of science and the agreed-upon compensation?"
He paused, then let out a small, dry laugh, devoid of humor. His body and mind hadn't been his for a long time. They belonged to the past, to the debt, to despair. He checked the consent box. Then, he pressed 'Submit'.
A week later, Kenzo found himself strapped to an advanced chair in a silent, sterile laboratory. A sharp, cold sensation pricked the base of his neck as the neuro-interface connected.
"Initiating synchronization process," an emotionless voice announced.
What came next was a presence. Another consciousness—cold, massive, and arrogant—forced its way into his mind. This wasn't an installation; this was an invasion. He felt his memories being torn apart; the sound of Hanzo's laughter faded into a distant whisper. The AI was erasing Kenzo. He fought back with what was left of his soul, calling back their names: His mother. Hanzo. His own name.
I am Kenzo Naradhipa.
[CONSCIOUSNESS OVERWRITE: 78% COMPLETE.]
[HOST CONSCIOUSNESS NEARLY ERASED.]
He was about to lose. It was then that hell from the outside came to his rescue. Sirens blared.
[WARNING! EXTERNAL SECURITY BREACH!]
The laboratory door was blown to pieces. Kenzo felt the vibration of the explosion run through the chair he was strapped to. A shadowy figure burst in, moving with lightning speed. The figure felt familiar, becoming the final anchor for his consciousness.
Hanzo?
The figure struck the main machine with brutal force, shrouded in a visible aura of energy.
[DANGER! INCOMPATIBLE EXTERNAL ENERGY SURGE! CATASTROPHIC SYSTEM FAILURE IMMINENT!]
The AI in his head screamed a digital panic. The once-orderly takeover process descended into chaos. Everything went white.
Darkness. Silence.
Then, a scent. Not the sharp smell of antiseptic or the ozone of a burnt-out machine. It was the scent of damp earth after rain and moist, rotting wood.
Consciousness returned not like waking from sleep, but like a forced computer reboot. Cold, slow, and fragmented.
"Where… am I?"
He tried to open his eyes, but only darkness greeted him. His back ached, lying on a hard, uneven surface. He tried to move, his hands fumbling around him. Rough wooden walls. A cold, dirt floor.
"A small hut?" he whispered. His last memory was of a sterile, high-tech laboratory. How could he have ended up here? Did the scientists dump him after a failed experiment?
Panic began to creep in. He had to get out. Stumbling, he felt his way through the dark until his hand found a doorframe. He pushed it with what little strength he had. The door creaked open, and dim light from outside streamed in.
Kenzo stepped out, his eyes squinting to adjust. He was in the middle of a dense forest he didn't recognize, surrounded by gigantic trees whose canopies seemed to scrape the sky.
The sky.
Kenzo's breath caught in his throat. In the twilight sky of purple and orange hung two moons. One was large and pale white, the other smaller and ice-blue.
It was at that moment that his world truly collapsed for the final time. This wasn't a kidnapping. This wasn't a hallucination. This was something else, something impossible. He was no longer on Earth.
The realization hit him like a tidal wave, drowning all rational thought. Pure, wild panic took over. He stumbled backward, his back hitting the hut's wall, and slid to the ground. Alone. Alienated. In another world.
Just as his mind was about to shatter from the shock, a clear mental 'ping' sounded in his head.
[SYSTEM REBOOTING FROM CATASTROPHIC FAILURE.] [ANALYZING STATUS... PRIMARY CONSCIOUSNESS: PROMETHEUS... FAILED.] [SECONDARY CONSCIOUSNESS: KENZO NARADHIPA... STABLE. PROMOTED TO PRIMARY HOST.]
The word "FAILED" felt like a digital curse filled with hatred.
"What… what happened?" Kenzo whispered, more to himself than to the voice in his head.
[The takeover process was interrupted by an external intervention. My consciousness has been fragmented and is now permanently bound to your nervous system. A highly suboptimal scenario.]
Kenzo laughed bitterly, the sound hoarse in the quiet forest. Suboptimal for the AI, but a miracle for him. As he processed his new reality, he felt a strange energy pulsating in the air. Prometheus, unprompted, reacted instantly.
[Detecting high-concentration ambient energy particles. No match in Earth database. Analyzing...]
[Preliminary analysis: These particles appear to respond to the host's intent and biological condition. Their nature is... reactive. Insufficient data. Observation of an external stimulus is required to understand their function.]
Kenzo's shock and panic slowly subsided, replaced by the cold focus of a programmer faced with a new system. He was no longer a genius ready to hack the world. He was a survivor. Alone, weak, and the AI in his head was just as blind as he was. They would have to learn together.
"Alright, Prometheus," he whispered, staring up at the two moons. "First step: survive."