The morning air in the space station felt heavier than usual. Ajax could sense it as he stood motionless by the window, staring at the swirling gas nebula beyond. The vibrant tendrils of violet and crimson wove through the endless black expanse, cosmic clouds illuminated by distant stars that were long dead. A strange serenity usually washed over him when he gazed at the nebula, but not today. Today, it felt like the nebula was mocking him—reminding him how small, how insignificant, how powerless he was.
Two days had passed since his last conversation with Mother, and today was the day.
The day when everything would change.
His chest felt tight as the thought echoed in his mind. His body, his life, his future—all of it rested on what would happen over the next few hours. The OLA ceremony was no longer just an idea, no longer something distant on the horizon. It was here. And there was no turning back.
Ajax turned from the window and walked to the center of his sleek, minimalist condo. His quarters were cold, clinical, like most places on the station. Smooth metal surfaces, clean lines, and an overwhelming absence of color or texture. It was a reflection of the society he lived in—everything was functional, efficient, stripped of any unnecessary flourishes.
The wardrobe slid open with a whisper, and Ajax pulled out the uniform he was expected to wear to the Integration Lab. Simple, grey, and tight against his skin, the outfit clung to him as though it was already trying to remind him of the OLA that would soon replace it. He could barely feel the fabric against his body—it was so light, almost weightless. That was the point. After today, fabric would no longer serve a purpose.
He glanced at the mirror, but only briefly. The reflection staring back at him didn’t feel like his own. The same dark, unkempt hair, the sharp, angular face, the same eyes filled with worry—but there was a distance between the person in the mirror and the person he knew himself to be. Today, he felt like a spectator in his own life.
“Ajax, it is time.” Mother’s voice broke the silence, calm as ever.
He nodded but didn’t turn to face her holographic form. He knew she was standing there, watching him with that same patient gaze, the one that always made him feel like a child under her careful scrutiny. In truth, she had always been more of a guide than a guardian, her demeanor programmed to soothe and instruct, not to challenge or comfort in the way a real person might.
Still, he had changed her, altered her programming over the years to better suit his needs. She wasn’t just the AI every citizen received at birth. She was his—different. And yet, even now, with her voice soft and reassuring, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being alone.
He took one last look at his condo, at the sterile, empty place he had called home for twenty-five years. This was the last time he would stand here as himself. After today, there would be no more Ajax—at least, not the Ajax he knew.
The walk to the Integration Lab was long. Much longer than he had expected.
The station stretched on endlessly, a massive, artificial world floating in the void, its purpose solely to sustain human life as it drifted further and further from the remnants of old Earth. Ajax moved through the outer residential district first, passing row upon row of identical condos, each one designed with brutal efficiency. Everything here was cold, grey, sterile.
The station’s architecture was practical—angular, sharp, and devoid of any unnecessary ornamentation. The ceilings were high, the corridors wide, allowing for the constant flow of people that moved through the station day in and day out. Everything was designed for optimal movement and productivity. There was no room for individuality, no space for anything that didn’t serve a purpose.
As Ajax walked, the crowds grew denser. The outer residential district was primarily for the Knowledge Class, the elite intellectuals who managed the station’s operations. He passed several of them now—men and women with faces drawn into hard, calculating expressions, their steps quick and purposeful as they moved toward their respective destinations. They were dressed in the same fitted grey uniforms as Ajax, their OLA-free bodies temporarily blending into the cold background of the station’s monochromatic world.
It wouldn’t last. Soon, they would wear their true uniforms—their biological armor—and they would take their places in the grand machinery of society.
Ajax’s path led him deeper into the heart of the station, away from the quiet residential sector and into the bustling Education Halls. Here, the station’s youth were molded and shaped, their minds and bodies trained for the roles they would soon inherit.
The halls themselves were massive structures, with ceilings that arched far overhead and walls lined with screens displaying educational programs, diagrams of neural pathways, combat techniques, and fractal algorithms. Everything was curated, controlled. No knowledge was wasted here. Every piece of information had a purpose—just like every person.
He passed by one of the largest lecture halls, his footsteps slowing as he glanced inside. The room was an enormous amphitheater, but instead of traditional seats, there were individual alcoves suspended in the air, each one a small, circular chamber where a student sat immersed in a 360-degree AR/VR simulation. The students, most of them no older than fifteen, floated in their pods, their minds completely absorbed by the simulations.
Each student was engaged in a different activity, their environments tailored specifically to their aptitudes. Some were deep in physical combat simulations, their bodies twisting and moving as they dodged unseen strikes and returned blows. Others were surrounded by complex holographic equations, manipulating variables and solving problems in real-time as the simulation adjusted itself to their progress.
Ajax had once been one of them. Years ago, he had sat in one of those pods, his mind entirely absorbed by the AR simulations, his body trained for both intellectual and physical rigor. Every student on the station underwent the same rigorous training. It was designed to ensure that no one slipped through the cracks. Everyone, no matter their role, was prepared for combat, for knowledge, for survival.
But none of it had ever made him feel like he belonged. Even as he had excelled in his classes, even as he had outpaced his peers in combat and strategy, something had always felt... off. He had never truly fit into any of the roles they had tried to mold him into.
Ajax tore his gaze away from the lecture hall and continued walking. His destination was still far ahead, deeper into the station’s core. The Education Halls gave way to the central district, where the Bio Class and Engineering Class reigned supreme. Here, the station’s lifeblood was maintained—its infrastructure, its biotechnological systems, everything that kept humanity alive in the void.
The Bio Class was an eerie sight. As he passed their quarters, Ajax couldn’t help but feel a chill run down his spine. The Bio Class had a reputation for their mastery over life itself. They controlled the cells of living organisms, manipulating DNA to create new forms, to heal, to grow. Their laboratories were filled with vials of strange, bioluminescent liquids, living organisms suspended in various stages of growth. It was as if they were playing God, crafting life and death with their hands.
The Engineers were no less impressive. Their workshops buzzed with the sound of machinery, the air thick with the hum of nanobots and the clang of metal. Engineers were the architects of the station, the ones who constructed and deconstructed entire sections of it with their nanotechnology. Their OLA, once integrated, would allow them to manipulate matter itself, bending the physical world to their will.
Both factions operated with clinical precision, their work essential to the station’s survival. But Ajax felt no kinship with them either.
He continued deeper into the station, the crowds thinning as he approached the Integration Lab. The structure was unlike anything else in the station—massive, sterile, and pulsating with a strange, humming energy that Ajax could feel in his bones.
The entrance to the lab was guarded by towering glass doors, their smooth surface etched with the emblem of the station—a perfect circle surrounded by four intersecting lines, representing the four factions. Beyond the doors, the Integration Lab beckoned, a cavernous hall lined with rows of tanks, each one filled with the same pinkish-purple fluid that Ajax had seen in the holographic briefings.
The post-embryonic fluid.
Ajax swallowed hard, his throat dry as he stepped through the doors and into the lab. The smell hit him immediately—a sharp, sterile scent that made the back of his throat burn. The walls were blindingly white, the light above so harsh that it felt as though the room itself was buzzing with energy.
A group of scientists stood waiting for him, their faces obscured by sleek, transparent helmets that reflected the cold light of the lab. They moved with practiced efficiency, their gestures quick and precise as they prepared the equipment for the ceremony.
Ajax’s stomach churned as they approached him.
“Ajax Ryker, Knowledge Class,” one of the scientists said, her voice flat and emotionless. “Are you prepared for integration?”
Ajax nodded, though his body felt numb, his mind buzzing with a thousand unspoken fears.
Without another word, they led him to the center of the lab, where one of the largest tanks sat waiting for him. The post-embryonic fluid inside shimmered and swirled, almost as though it were alive. It was the fluid that would transform him—that would make him something else.
Something... more.
Or at least, that’s what they told him.
Pain surged through Ajax’s body, sharp and overwhelming, as if his very bones were being torn apart and reassembled. His muscles strained against the restraints, twitching uncontrollably, but his mind remained startlingly clear. The cold numbness that had filled his lungs and skin moments ago was replaced by a searing heat, as though the post-embryonic fluid had transformed into molten fire that coursed through his veins.
Each nerve screamed in agony as the OLA began to bind to his flesh. He could feel it crawling across his skin, hardening, stretching, reshaping itself to fit his form. The armor wasn’t just grafting to him—it was becoming him. His body was no longer his own.
And yet, somehow, he knew this wasn’t the typical experience. He had seen other citizens go through the OLA ceremony before—friends, classmates, and even distant family members. They had spoken of the pain, the discomfort, the strange sensations of the armor fusing to their skin, but none had described this level of intensity. This wasn’t normal.
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His heart pounded harder with each second, his pulse echoing in his ears, but his thoughts were becoming more ordered, sharper, as if the OLA wasn’t just altering his body—it was enhancing his mind as well. Every sensation, every fragment of information around him was now crystal clear. The sounds of the lab—previously distant murmurs—now filled his consciousness with such clarity it felt like he could hear the very hum of the station’s power systems coursing through the walls.
This isn’t normal, he thought again, panic swelling within him.
He could hear the scientists now, their voices clipped, tense, as they moved quickly around his tank. They were speaking in quick, staccato bursts, exchanging data, reacting to the changes happening to his body in real-time. He could hear them discussing his absorption rate, his vitals—everything.
“His body is absorbing the fluid at an unprecedented rate,” one of them said, her voice muffled through the thick glass of the tank. “The diverters can’t keep up.”
“Increase the flow! Divert more material into the tank. We can’t let his vitals drop!” another voice responded, strained with urgency.
Increase the flow? Ajax’s mind raced. The idea of more fluid, more of this searing pain being pumped into his body sent waves of panic through him. His body was already at its limit—he could feel the OLA invading every cell, breaking down his very essence, and rebuilding him into something... other. And yet, despite the agony, there was something else there too. A power. A sense of control, of purpose.
He felt the diverter nozzles activate again, pumping fresh streams of the pinkish-purple fluid into the tank. The liquid surged around him, swirling violently as it was pulled into his skin, sinking deeper into his tissues, fusing with his muscles, his bones. His entire body felt as though it were being inflated, expanded beyond its natural limits, and yet he remained conscious, his mind sharp, processing every second with terrifying clarity.
This isn’t right. This isn’t what’s supposed to happen.
The OLA was supposed to bond with his body gradually, slowly, over the course of several hours. But Ajax could feel the process accelerating, his body consuming the fluid at a rate the scientists clearly hadn’t anticipated. The pain was unbearable, but his mind wouldn’t let him lose consciousness. Instead, he was forced to endure every second, fully aware of the transformation that was taking place.
His thoughts swirled, and through the haze of pain, fragments of history came to the forefront of his mind—the origins of the OLA, the story of the Great Change that had reshaped humanity.
Centuries ago, he recalled, humans had been bloated with excess, their bodies swelled by overconsumption and chemical alteration. The OLA had been a discovery of necessity—a serum designed to reverse the damage caused by that time of excess. But it had become more than that. It had become a tool of survival. Of control.
He had always known the story, had studied it countless times as part of the Knowledge Class curriculum, but now, with the OLA flowing through his body, the truth of it seemed more profound, more terrifying than he had ever realized. This was no mere tool. It was a force, something ancient and powerful, something that had once saved humanity but now controlled it.
The burning sensation in his veins intensified as the fresh fluid pumped into the tank. His muscles convulsed again, his body jerking violently as the OLA fused deeper, wrapping itself around every part of him. He could feel his skin hardening, the thin membrane of armor spreading across his limbs like a second skin. It wasn’t smooth like traditional armor—it felt alive, organic, as though it were growing out of him, forming plates of sleek, dark material that glistened in the fluid.
The sensation was overwhelming, but as the armor spread, he noticed something strange—the effervescence. Faint traces of light, like tiny veins of energy, pulsed along the surface of the OLA, glowing a soft blue-green beneath the dark plates. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there—an intricate network of glowing circuits woven into the armor, connecting to his very nerves.
The scientists hadn’t mentioned this. No one had. Ajax had seen countless people undergo the ceremony, but he had never seen this—never seen the faint, glowing patterns, the shimmering light that now coursed through his own body.
“What... what’s happening?” he tried to speak, but the fluid muffled his voice, his words barely more than a whisper in his own mind.
The OLA was fusing faster now, the process accelerating beyond anything the scientists had predicted. His mind was on fire with clarity—he could think faster, process more. He could feel the strength building in his muscles, the enhanced neural speed as thoughts came to him in rapid succession, as if his mind was firing off a thousand ideas at once, all interconnected, all part of the same larger puzzle.
And still, the pain grew worse. It felt as though his very bones were being split open, his body stretched to its limit. But through the agony, there was power. The OLA wasn’t just enhancing him—it was awakening something inside him.
The diverters pumped more fluid, desperately trying to keep pace with his body’s unnatural absorption rate. The liquid churned around him, swirling violently, the machinery groaning under the strain.
“Vitals are spiking again!” one of the scientists shouted. “If we push any more, we risk cardiac arrest!”
Ajax could hear them clearly, even through the thick walls of the tank. He could sense their growing panic, their uncertainty about what was happening to him. They were trained for this—trained to oversee the OLA integration of hundreds, maybe thousands of citizens. But this? This was beyond them.
He tried to move, but his body wouldn’t respond. The restraints held him in place, his limbs locked as the OLA continued to fuse to his skin. He could feel it now—every plate, every membrane, every tendril of the living armor wrapping itself around him, sinking into his flesh, bonding with his very essence. His body was no longer his own. It was becoming something... more.
And then, just as the pain reached its peak, there was a sudden stillness.
The fluid in the tank stopped swirling, the violent churning calming into a gentle, almost soothing ripple. The sharp, searing agony that had gripped his body eased, leaving behind a strange numbness, a weight that settled over his mind and limbs like a heavy blanket.
Ajax blinked, his vision still blurred by the remnants of the pain, but his thoughts were clearer than they had ever been. His body felt... different. The OLA had fused completely now, its sleek, dark plates covering his arms, his legs, his torso. The glowing traces of light still pulsed beneath the surface, a soft, constant rhythm like a heartbeat.
He was still suspended in the tank, but his body no longer fought against the restraints. He felt strong, stronger than he ever had before. His mind buzzed with clarity, every thought sharp, every sensation amplified.
The pain was gone.
And in its place, there was only power.
His eyes flickered open, and through the glass of the tank, he saw the scientists staring at him in shock, their voices a distant echo in the back of his mind. They were speaking, shouting, but the words didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the feeling of the OLA coursing through him, the sense of completeness, of strength.
He had survived.
But something had changed. This wasn’t the same OLA integration that others had experienced. This was... different.
He wasn’t just augmented. He was something else.
The fluid began to drain from the tank, siphoning away with a low, mechanical hum. Ajax felt the cold liquid slip off his skin as it receded, leaving him suspended in the air, his limbs still restrained by the metal clasps around his wrists and ankles. The weight of the OLA settled over him fully now, no longer the burning, agonizing force it had been moments before, but something more... natural. As though it had always been a part of him, waiting to be awakened.
His body ached, his muscles trembling with exhaustion, but the clarity in his mind was sharper than ever. Every breath he took felt like it was moving through a new body—one that was stronger, faster, more alive. He blinked, his vision adjusting as the glass walls of the tank slid open, the air inside the lab biting against his newly armored skin.
He wasn’t sure what he expected to feel. Relief? Pride? Fear? Instead, there was only a strange stillness, a calm settling in his bones as he looked down at his arms, now covered in the sleek, dark plates of the OLA. The armor felt... right. Almost like it had always been there, waiting for this moment. The soft effervescence of the glowing lines, which resembled faint PCB circuits, pulsed in time with his heartbeat, threading through the OLA like veins of energy.
A team of scientists rushed forward, their movements stiff and hurried as they approached him with scanners and medical instruments. The moment his restraints released, Ajax lowered to the ground, his legs shaky but functional. The cold, sterile floor felt unfamiliar under his feet, as though the connection between his body and the outside world had changed.
One of the lead scientists stepped forward, her helmet still on, though he could hear the tension in her voice. “Vitals stable. Neural response within acceptable parameters. But...”
The hesitation in her voice caught Ajax’s attention. He turned his head slightly, watching her through the visor of her helmet. The other scientists were moving around him, checking data streams on floating panels, whispering urgently to each other.
“But what?” Ajax asked, his voice stronger than he expected.
The scientist glanced at her colleagues, as if unsure of what to say. “Your absorption rate was far beyond anything we’ve recorded before,” she said slowly. “The diverters couldn’t keep up with the demand. You... you shouldn’t have survived that level of fluid intake.”
Ajax’s heart skipped a beat. He had felt it—the hunger in his body, the way it had consumed the post-embryonic fluid as though it were starved for it. He had absorbed more than anyone should have, and yet here he stood, alive, stronger than ever.
“But I did survive,” he replied, his voice steady. He raised his arms, studying the dark plates of his OLA, the subtle glow of the traces beneath the surface. “And now I’m... different.”
“Different is an understatement,” another scientist muttered from behind his visor. “We’ve never seen anything like this.”
The lead scientist nodded, stepping closer. She held a scanner in her hand, its soft light sweeping over his body as she analyzed the readings. Her brow furrowed beneath the helmet. “Your OLA... it doesn’t fit into any of the known classifications.”
A cold shiver ran down Ajax’s spine. He had always known he wasn’t like the others. He had always felt it, deep down, that he didn’t belong in any of the traditional factions. And now, with the OLA coursing through him, that feeling had become undeniable.
“What do you mean?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
The scientist hesitated for a moment before speaking. “The OLA typically bonds to a person based on their innate abilities—their predispositions. Warriors develop stronger, denser plates. Engineers show traces that connect directly to nanites. The Bio Class has more organic features, with control over cellular manipulation. And the Knowledge Class—well, they develop enhanced neural networks for processing data and complex thought.”
Her scanner beeped softly as she finished the sweep, and she lowered it, staring at him through her visor. “But yours... yours shows traits from all of them.”
“All of them?” Ajax repeated, his voice rising slightly.
The scientist nodded slowly. “Your OLA is dense enough to match a Warrior’s, but the traces—the effervescence—those are similar to the neural pathways of the Knowledge Class. And there’s something else. The way your body absorbed the fluid... it’s unlike anything we’ve seen before.”
A heavy silence fell over the room. The other scientists exchanged nervous glances, whispering quietly to each other, their eyes flicking toward Ajax as though he were something foreign, something they couldn’t quite understand.
He clenched his fists, feeling the power of the OLA surge through him again. His body felt stronger than it ever had before, every muscle alive with energy. And yet, there was something else beneath the surface—an uncertainty, a confusion about what this meant for him.
“So what happens now?” he asked, his voice low but steady.
The lead scientist exchanged a glance with her colleagues before answering. “You’ll need to undergo further testing,” she said carefully. “We need to understand what this means. The OLA... it’s not supposed to work this way.”
“And if it does?” Ajax pressed. “What if this is what I was meant to be?”
Her hesitation was all the answer he needed. “We’ll see,” she said finally. “For now, we’ll monitor your progress closely.”
Ajax nodded, his mind racing as he processed her words. He had known that something about him was different. He had always felt it, the way he didn’t quite fit into the molds that society had created for him. And now, with this new, unclassifiable OLA, that difference was undeniable.
But what did it mean?
As the scientists continued to scan him, to poke and prod and collect data, Ajax felt a strange mix of emotions churning inside him. There was fear, yes—a fear of the unknown, of what this new OLA meant for his future. But there was also a sense of freedom, a sense of possibility that he had never felt before.
He wasn’t bound by the rules of the factions. He wasn’t limited by the rigid structures that had defined the station’s society for centuries. He was something new, something that defied classification.
And that made him both powerful and dangerous.
The thought settled in his mind, and as he looked around the sterile lab, at the nervous scientists and the blinding white walls, he knew one thing for certain: his life would never be the same.
He was no longer just Ajax Ryker, son of the Knowledge Class.
He was something more.
And the world wasn’t ready for him.