Stepping into the locker room, the musk of testosterone and sweat soaked into the very fabric of the room assaults my olfactory senses. 80 years into the Nano Revolution Age and we still haven’t found a solution to gym funk. Delightful…

Scrunching my nose I wade up to my locker. Seeing the numbers pass by, I drink in the sleek chrome finish of plasteel lockers emanating cool detachment and tranquillity, all complete with a basic Holosuite. My shoes tap rhythmically against the white tiled floors sterilized to hospital standards, the smell of bleach slicing through the sweaty effluvium. A sharp difference from the creaking metal-hinged doors and concrete floors in the hallway.

Only the best for the elite of Brightdale, the National Eugenics Programme all but ensuring the sharp of mind become the fit of body with but a few erroneous outliers.

Saddling up to my locker I relax and allow AiirA to scan my Nanocode, hearing the confirmatory chime I look on as the door swished open with a pneumatic hiss. Tapping the privacy screen Holomesh forms up around, blurring me into a foggy brown smudge. Shedding my varsity jacket, I strip into my boxer briefs and spend a moment admiring myself in the Holodisplay.

I’d been working my programme hard these past few months and the results were showing, I’d always been fit but now my muscles had definition and even an outline of a six pack started forming from my flat stomach, adding to my six-foot height made for an imposing silhouette.

Brushing my curly black hair over my right ear I touch the cool metal of my Deck. It was an older casing, one of the Naginata models, it covered my earlobe and sharpened to an elven tip with a tassel bell earring dangling from the top. There were painstakingly depictions of the Hindu God Vishnu lounging in the embrace of his five headed coiled cobra, Nagaraja, my namesake carved into the casing making it look like a religious paraphernalia rather than a piece of cutting edge technology that it was. The inner model had been upgraded but I refused to part with the casing for it meant far too much to me.

The inspection of my Deck was cut short when my eyes rested on my aquiline nose.

“Mother fucker! Is that’s a zit?!” I scream exasperated. I hear chuckling behind me but ignored it.

I’d been lucky enough to avoid typical problems associated with puberty, like acne and acne and... acne. A regimented application of tea tree oil and a diet of strict avoidance of trans fat had rewarded me with smooth supple skin.

Until now.

“Haih” I sigh waving the display away. Slipping into my gym shorts, and tracksuit, I fish out my Pumas from behind my jacket as I get into my routine. Tying my laces rewards me with the satisfying smell of burning fabric as lace friction against lace slipping past each other into a comforting secure double knot.

Feeling the strings bite into my skin makes me hunger for the run, I could feel the anticipation building, I yearned to stretch my legs and feel wind brush against my face. Giving into the moment, I stand on my toes flexing my calf, feeling the satisfying stretch of muscles and creaking of tendons spreading a satisfying heat up into my hamstrings and I inadvertently let out a groan, loud enough to cause me to cringe.

Embarrassed and deciding that it was time to head to the field, I turn and walk out of my locker, the Holomesh dissolving on its own and the pneumatic hiss of the door sliding back into place following my departure.

To my surprise in front of me was a petite 16-year-old kid with soft effeminate features and a shit-eating grin on his face. He looked like your typical boy next door, mousy-faced, sandy brown tousled hair, the kind you’d entrust babysitting your kids to, only the dark gleam in his green eyes betraying that he might screw your poodle when you weren’t looking.

I raise a finger, the finger “Before you say anything, Fuck you, Ryan. Just Fuck you” I said before my lips curved, crinkling my right dimple.

“So were you jerking off to yourself in there or have finally taken my advice to stuffing a female dwarf in your locker for some post workout, workout? They’re surprisingly low maintenance especially if they get their daily dose of protein” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Like I said, Fuck you. Anyway, what’s up? I don’t usually see you until after training, isn’t your Pyramid Squares coach a hardass?” I asked as he joined me walking towards the field.

His face grimaced “Don’t remind me, the douche wants us to start morning training at 7, I ain’t got no time for that shit. I personally think he just needs to get laid or get stuffed or both” the mental image causing me to chuckle.

“Right, back on topic, you and Ethan are signing up for Yojana Online this weekend right?” Ryan asked.

“Yeah who isn’t, we just got our Decks upgraded to support the software, but didn’t your dad tell you to get some ‘real work’ instead of wasting your time on video games or something”

“Sure he did, so I just ran to my mum and we all know who wears the pants in the family.” Ryan said with a sly grin.

“Man you’re such a Mama’s boy” Ryan pinked at that, smelling of sugar cubes.

“Right, anyway you guys up to meet and level together? I know there’s not much info out yet but figured we could hang out.”

“Hmm” I raised an eyebrow, this peaked my interest, but then my mood darkened when I remembered why I had been training so hard and what the game means to me now, so I squashed my enthusiasm.

With a sad smile, I answered “Love to man, you can send Ethan a message on his Deck and sort out levelling with him, unfortunately, I’ve got somewhere I’ve to go in-game, she designed part of it and I kinda wanna see it first before anyone else does, you know. And before you say anything it’s fine you didn’t know.”

Ryan looked like he just bit on a lemon “Yeah, sorry dude. Err... she was always nice to me you know. Haih... you know time is the least thing we have of.” He smelled like vanilla then.

The silence dragged on, pregnant with emotion before my sputtering laugh broke us out of the moment.

“Pffst, Hemingway? Are you quoting fucking Hemingway to me right now? Haha!” shaking my head, we near the field. In the distance, I could see Coach Harrison setting up the Holofield scowling at the players, and I had a feeling I knew why.

“Right gotta jet. Dude, I was second in my EngLit class last year behind Rachmore. You demean my intellectual prowess because of the fitness of my derriere!” He shouted back at me as he ran towards Coach Harrison.

I shook my head and walked on to the track field.

AiirA pinged in with a jingle of my tassel bell, one of the custom features of the casing “Nanocode acknowledged. Please proceed to Track 6 Mr. Vaneshan. Deck Limiter: Physical Activity Removed. Have a pleasant day.”

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Just as the words were muttered my world lit up. Holodisplays showing my Heart Rate, Respiration Rate, Blood Pressure and Calories Expended were pinned to the top right of my vision, blurring and only coming into focus when I call upon it. My training progress and suggested routine came up next and I dismissed those along with any environmental displays.

Track 6 lit up with the comforting turquoise glow I was so used to. Deck Privacy went up and runners on either side blurred out with the distance to them ticking up as numerical digits on my Augmented Reality display. Ongoing races between runners were tracked and undismissable as an effort to promote healthy competition.

“Initiate Work Out Programme Raj 1.3” I muttered into my Deck.

Instructions flow into my head as I prep my warm up, limbering up my muscles and joints with satisfying cracks, I then break into a light jog aiming to get my pulse going and warming me up from the lingering morning chill. I see my heart rate rising and my haemoglobin saturation dropping before stabilizing, a screen pins to the side of my vision with the estimated progress.

A light breeze blows through the field and goosebumps race up my neck. I begin focussing on the rhythmic thumping of my heart, the rise and fall of my steps and my mind falls into a hypnotic pace.

The colour bleeds out of the world as all I’m left with is me and the Lup Dup beating of my heart. I truly feel at peace here, no smells, no thoughts, no pain, just me and...

‘Warm Up Routine Complete, Runner on Track 5 Requesting Training Race 100m, Acceptable Standard Deviation of Optimal Condition, Request Accepted as per Athletics Programme, Please Prepare Mr. Vaneshan, Race Starts in 1 minute 30 seconds’ AiirA jolts me out of my zen in her toneless female voice.

Color bleeding back into the world I rub my forehead annoyed at the disruption.

Look over at Track 5, shrouded by Deck Privacy the runner looked like nothing more than a Red Mannequin but I had an inkling as to who it was.

As I slow and come to a stop, the AR display jolts and details about the Training Race come into focus with a rapidly building spectator list. I dismiss it with a wave returning to my minimalistic theme.

Just me and the Track. I switch on my playlist which composed mainly of Icelandic experimental post-rock music. Pretentious I know.

The annoyance of being interrupted passing as I begin to feel anxiety and excitement for the upcoming race. Feeling the shoes biting into my foot and the hard ground underneath, I hunger for the thrill of the race. The warmth of my core heating up in anticipation of competition as I clench my jaw holding back a grin.

An errant sweatdrop slides down my neck and I’m reminded to keep my discipline lest my eagerness slips up my form.

I take a deep breath in as the cool air rushes into my nostrils, down my trachea, splitting at my bronchus and finally inflating my alveolar sacs.

I calm my mind, only me and my heartbeat remain.

Lup Dup...

Lup Dup...

AirrA’s voice sounds in my mind but my focus would not be broken.

I repeat my mantra over and over ‘I am in my fortress. In here I am Raja, in here I am King!’

My body moved almost instinctively lining up at the track, fingers spreading as the grainy texture brushes past my skin, my left knee resting on the ground and my breath released in a long controlled hiss. Rising to a 4 point start I feel the muscles in my left leg tense, a coiled viper ready to strike, deadly and hungry.

My empty lungs begin to draw in a long steady breath again. And just when near bursting...

“GO!”

My left foot uncoils pushing against the Track, against Gravity, against the World.

The world bleeds once again, only leaving me and the track and the Red finish line.

90m

My heart beats against my eardrums, loud, sonorous, raging. The wind whistles sharply against my ears all the while. The stretch of my muscles working in an effort taught by millennials of genetic memory.

76m

The ground disappears under my feet, and my feet hunger for more. My sides tense as I hold my breath preventing it from escaping.

52m

My arms ache as they swing clawing at the space in front of me. Sweat runs rivulets down my torso drenching my attire.

23m

My feet hit the ground devouring the white, hungry to reach the line, desperate even.

10m

My lungs threaten to burst as a hiss escapes my lips!

4m

My eardrums ache as my heart hammers against them!

3m

My legs scream as pain sears through them!

2m

My body craves for what comes next for I know she is here!

1m

And my feet feel the ground no more, the air goes still and I feel her around me, wrapping me in her arms. But she doesn’t smell of love, not of camphor and cinnamon, just sterile and odourless and I know it’s an illusion and my heart bleeds again.

“...inner Track 5, Runner E.R. Training Race complete” I hear as my consciousness returns.

“Buah!” I let out my breath as I breathe in gulps trying to return my vitals to their baseline.

I look up and see the red mannequin figure of Track 5’s Runner pointing to the side field. I comply and follow him over.

The side field had a number of students already taking a break from their daily training, the blue awning a welcome reprieve from the vengeful sun. Recyclable plastic bottles littered the ground, likely awaiting the janitors to usher them into bins. Lazy privileged assholes that they were.

As we step off the track, the Deck Privacy peels of us showing Ethan’s flushed figure looking like a wet hound, gone were hours of hair sculpting, his wet fringe now plastered to his forehead and his sportswear stained with sweat, no longer pristine.

“Mate, that was brill! What’s your time? I swear you’re getting faster by the week and to think a few months ago you were floundering with the rest of the barrel scraps.” Ethan grinned and then suddenly furrowed his brows.

“You’re not still having that glitch at the end of races are you?” Ethan asked concern lacing his voice.

It was understandable, AiirA and Nanotechnology were beyond human understanding, while certainly created by us, ordinary human senses couldn’t interpret all of the information they processed and supplied. Decks were created as a crutch for us to understand signals AiirA gave the Nanotech in our bloodstream, and Deck glitches were worrying because well, it simply had never happened before.

The animal trials of early Nanotechnology was open to the general populace and had unfortunately been distorted into urban legends ranging from half cyborg bunnies craving human brains to hive mind psychic rats. Both of which were proven false in the intervening five decades since the introduction of sanctioned Nanotechnology for human use. However, stories of relatives on the mainland feasting on brains tend to float around, concerns never really leaving the collective psyche.

“Nah man, think I was too hyped up on caffeine after we got our upgrades last week that I was seeing things.” I lied.

While I felt bad about lying to Ethan, having my best friend know that I was having sensory hallucinations would make him think I was crazy…

Even better to hide it if I was actually going crazy because I would gladly go crazy to have her hold me in her arms again.

Alright... that sounded fucking weird... time to get out of my head.

My tassel bell jingled just then and AiirA pinged in “Time is 8.30 am, as per Education Bureau Guidelines, Deck Limiter: Educational Archives Level 3 Removed. Have a pleasant day.” she intoned in her emotionless feminine voice.

We groaned simultaneously “Guess it’s time for school.”