The nebula outside twisted like an ancient dream, swirling in colors too magnificent to be real, yet there it was—vast, untouchable, and free. Ajax’s hand remained pressed against the cold glass of his condo window, his reflection faint and ghostly against the backdrop of stars. Everything in this place was like the nebula—brilliant, infinite, but unreachable. He could look out at the void, imagine himself beyond the confines of this station, but he couldn’t touch it. It felt the same with his life, as though his choices were already set, the edges of his fate already etched in stone.
Two days.
It was all he could think about. The OLA integration ceremony. A ceremony that would change him forever. He wouldn’t just wear the armor—he would become it. The thought was enough to make his stomach churn.
“Mother,” he said softly, without turning around. His voice echoed lightly in the expansive room, filled with sleek, minimalist furniture and the ever-present hum of the station’s systems.
“Yes, Ajax?” came her reply, her voice gentle, as though trying not to disturb his thoughts. The soft glow of her holographic form appeared beside him again, her presence calming but far from comforting.
“Do you ever wonder what it’s like beyond the nebula? Beyond this place?” He finally turned to face her, his arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes searching hers as if she might hold the answer to the universe.
Mother tilted her head slightly, the faint smile on her lips almost empathetic. “You know as well as I do that the station is the only home we have. Beyond the nebula lies the unknown. Our ancestors left Earth centuries ago during the Great Migration for a new beginning. This is where humanity has found stability.”
“Stability,” Ajax repeated, tasting the word like it was something bitter. “At what cost?”
Mother blinked, her form flickering slightly, as though his question had sparked something in her programming that wasn’t designed to compute. “At the cost of survival,” she said, her tone still calm. “You understand that, Ajax. The OLA keeps us alive in this harsh environment. Without it, humanity wouldn’t have survived the Great Change.”
Ajax sighed, feeling the weight of history settle over him like an unwanted cloak. The Great Change—a time that had reshaped humanity’s very existence. He had heard the stories a thousand times. It had been an era when humanity had gone from scarcity to grotesque abundance, a time when people had consumed more than they could handle. Food, chemicals, synthetics—it didn’t matter. The human body had bloated, consumed by excess. It was a far cry from the station’s disciplined structure today.
It was then, back on Earth, that a nameless scientist had created the first iteration of what would eventually become the OLA. The serum had been designed to dissolve fat, to strip away the overindulgence, returning humanity to something more balanced, something more... manageable. But the serum had done more than that. It had transformed the human body, hardening skin into scab-like deposits—deposits that were later discovered to be as hard as mother of pearl.
It had been an accident, that first discovery, but like all accidents in human history, it had been exploited.
“Do you think that’s what they meant for it to become?” Ajax asked, his gaze still locked on the nebula. “Do you think they ever imagined that one day their serum would turn into... this?” He gestured to the glass, to the station, to everything around them.
Mother’s form shimmered slightly, as if sensing his unease. “I cannot speculate on the intentions of the past, Ajax. The OLA was a tool for survival. It still is. Without it, the factions wouldn’t exist. Society wouldn’t function.”
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
And there it was again—the factions. Everything in his world revolved around them. The station thrived because of its rigid structure, its division into neatly categorized groups: Warrior, Engineering, Bio, Knowledge. You weren’t just assigned to a faction—you became it. The OLA augmented your body and abilities, molding you into a piece of a greater whole.
But Ajax didn’t want to be a piece. He didn’t want to be absorbed into the machine.
He turned back to the window, his voice low. “What if I don’t survive the ceremony?”
There was a brief silence before Mother spoke, her voice softer than before. “The risks are minimal. The OLA integration has been perfected over millennia. It will adapt to your body. You will adapt to it.”
“But some don’t, right? Some people... don’t come out the same.” Ajax’s hands pressed against the cold glass, his fingers splayed wide, the chill biting into his skin. “Some people disappear.”
Mother hesitated. “There have been... anomalies in the past. But they are rare.”
“Anomalies,” Ajax scoffed, shaking his head. “That’s what they call them. People who can’t fit into the factions. People who don’t adapt.” He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. “What if that’s me?”
“You are meant for the Knowledge Class,” Mother said, her tone almost soothing. “You were born for it. Your mind is your greatest asset. You will excel, as your father did.”
Ajax turned to face her, the knot in his stomach tightening. “What if I don’t want to follow in his footsteps? What if I want something... different?”
Mother’s eyes softened, and for a brief moment, she looked almost human. “What do you want, Ajax?”
He hesitated. What did he want? Freedom, perhaps. The ability to choose his own path, not be forced into the rigid confines of the Knowledge Class simply because it was expected of him. The factions were suffocating. Everyone was molded into something specific, something useful. The Warriors were brute force, trained from birth to be the station’s protectors. Their OLA made them unstoppable, physically enhanced beyond anything a normal human could be. The Engineers? They could construct or deconstruct entire sectors of the station, manipulating nanobots to build or destroy. The Bio Class had mastery over life itself, altering cells, healing wounds, even controlling plants and animals on a molecular level.
And then there was the Knowledge Class—strategists, planners, manipulators of information. They were the minds behind the station’s operation. Their OLA enhanced their cognitive abilities, making them able to see patterns, predict outcomes, and process data at an inhuman speed.
But Ajax didn’t want that. He didn’t want to be another mind behind a desk, calculating the futures of others while his own was stolen from him.
“I don’t fit,” Ajax whispered, more to himself than to Mother.
Her form flickered slightly, her eyes soft and unreadable. “You feel different. That’s not uncommon.”
“It’s not just that I feel different,” Ajax shot back, his voice rising. “I am different. I’ve never felt like I belong in any of the factions. And once I go through that ceremony, once the OLA becomes part of me, that’s it. My choices are gone. My future is decided.”
Mother was silent for a long moment, her hologram shimmering in the dim light of the condo. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter than before. “There are... others.”
Ajax’s heart skipped a beat, and he turned to her, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”
Mother’s form flickered again, and Ajax could see the hesitation in her gaze. “Others who feel as you do. People who don’t fit into the factions. People who resist.”
Resist. The word hung in the air like a challenge, igniting a spark of hope deep within Ajax’s chest.
“Tell me,” he said, stepping closer to her. “What do you know?”
Mother’s form shimmered, her light dimming slightly. “There are archives. In the restricted sections of the Knowledge Class libraries. Information about... anomalies. People who didn’t conform. But accessing it is dangerous, Ajax. If they find out—”
“They won’t find out,” Ajax interrupted, his voice firm, resolute. “I’ll find out the truth.”
Mother’s gaze softened, and she nodded slowly. “Then I will help you.”
Ajax turned back to the window, staring out at the nebula, his mind racing. For the first time in his life, he felt the faint glimmer of possibility. Two days. In two days, they would try to mold him into something he wasn’t. But now he knew there was another way.
He wasn’t going to let them take his future.
He wasn’t going to let them take him.