Chapter 1: The Hall Of Misery
“Each year, around ten million students participate in the EAT, with over one million qualifying for physical testing. Ultimately, nearly ten thousand people become Enhanced. However, only around eight thousand of them successfully complete the process; the fate of the remaining individuals remains unknown or unaccounted for. This raises a few red flags for me.”
- Dr. Emily Gent
-PhD in Statistics
- Age 43
-Five Days Before Sudden Death
Abruptly, the next morning arrives, time slipping away unnoticed. I rush through my morning routine as I realize I have overslept. Fighting against pain from yesterday night’s bruises.
Rushing to the sofa, I grab my salvaged backpack, which houses my meager possessions. Sofia, still wrapped in the remnants of sleep, stirs in her makeshift bed. "Elian, what's happening?" she mumbles sleepily.
"I overslept. The EAT is today. I need to go now," I reply. Without waiting for her response, I climb up on the crate from last night's bounty, which acts as a makeshift ladder at the entrance to the corridor.
As I reach the street after a mad dash, a holographic news display greets me, telling everyone who passes by that the EAT is in 34 minutes. Swearing under my breath as I realize I won't be able to make it there on time if I walk, I rush to the nearest subway station.
I dash down the stairwell, swiping my wrist-comm across the sensor to deduct the subway fare. The turnstile grants me passage, and I sprint to catch the approaching train. As the doors close behind me, I feel the drain on my account—valuable credits evaporating.
♪
In the silence of the cosmic void, a dream takes flight,
A crimson planet, a distant sight, calling through the night.
Spacesuits on, we step outside, under the starry dome,
Rocket engines roaring, we leave our earthly home.
♪
As I fret over the upcoming exam and my lost credits, obnoxious music plays over the speakers of the train. Judging by the blank and vacant looks on the faces of my fellow passengers, they must have gotten used to singers paying money to have their songs played on subways to get a few more fans to follow them.
The rest of the subway ride blurs into a mix of anxious thoughts and the rhythmic hum of the train. As the subway car comes to a halt, I dash out of the station and emerge into a bustling city. In front of me is the college, a grand institution with ivy-covered walls and a blend of classical and modern architecture. At the entrance, there is a sea of people nervously shuffling around, having hushed conversations, and shooting glances at each other.
I push through the throng, moving towards the entrance. The security checkpoint is meticulous, with scanners checking for any unauthorized enhancements. The hallways are lined with banners showcasing the achievements of previous alumni. I navigate through the labyrinthine corridors, fighting against the press of the crowd as I finally reach the waiting area for my designated examination room.
I take a spot against one wall, waiting for my friends to arrive. As I wait, I glance around, and I'm not surprised to find that people of similar social order are grouped together. Typical, the rich and their bloody social games.
Even the question paper is different for different groups! Of course, the committee holding the exams all swears that this is to prevent cheating, and the papers are made to be of equal difficulty by overseeing AI. Sure, the papers are of equal difficulty, but having different question papers allows them to leak the question paper to the upper echelons of society with no one finding out. At least, that's what the rumors say.
I am shaken from my thoughts as I feel a gentle tap on my shoulder. Turning around, I am greeted by the familiar faces of my friends, Corvus and Mara.
Corvus, a wiry man with below-average height, brown eyes, and skin, hands me a steaming cup of coffee and a plate of toast. “Elian, dude, we heard you overslept and rushed here like a madman. Sofia said that you didn't even have breakfast,” he says.
Mara, always dressed in black pants and a leather jacket, adds, “Yeah, we figured you might need some fuel for that brain of yours before diving into the Hall of Misery.”
She smirks, trying to lighten the mood. I must say that her black eyes and purple-tipped raven hair look great with her outfit.
Accepting the coffee and toast, gratitude washes over me. “You guys are lifesavers. I don't know what I'd do without you.” The warmth of their friendship provides a comforting contrast to the nerves that still linger in the air. Together, we stand against the wall, sipping coffee and exchanging small talk, trying to distract ourselves from the looming exam. As the minutes tick away, the anticipation in the corridor grows, and the echoes of whispered conversations die.
Out of the classroom at the end of the corridor, a middle-aged woman steps out. She is in her early 40s, with short brown hair and a warm smile. She is wearing a black blazer and a white shirt, and she carries a stack of papers in her hands. Walking with a confident stride, her sharp and intelligent eyes scan the crowd. Seeing her, the last murmurs of conversation finally die away, and there is an awkward silence before she begins speaking in a ringing voice that carries to the furthest reaches of the students, hinting at the presence of hidden speakers and a microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Enhanced Aptitude Test. I am Dr. Emily Gent, and I will oversee the proceedings today. Before we begin, let me remind you of the gravity of this test. Passing the EAT is not just an achievement; it is a gateway to a new life, a life of enhanced abilities and opportunities. However, the path to becoming Enhanced is fraught with challenges, and not all who embark on this journey emerge victorious.”
“As you sit in these classrooms, remember that this is the Hall of Misery, as I like to call it. It is a place where your intellect, adaptability, and resilience will be tested. I urge you to give your best and to leave no stone unturned in pursuit of success. For those who make it through, a world of possibilities awaits. But do not underestimate the significance of this moment. The choices you make today will forever shape the mark you leave on this world. May your stars forever shine bright."
With Dr. Gent's words echoing in my mind, I enter the examination room along with Corvus and Mara. Rows of desks fill the space; each one is adorned with a holographic display.
Seated, we watch as the holographic screens flicker to life, unveiling the first set of questions. The room falls silent, the only sound being the occasional tap of fingers on holographic keyboards. The questions are interesting, to say the least. Testing not only my memory but also my ability to apply them quickly and effectively. I rush through the questions, trying to conserve time as the questions slowly get more and more difficult, requiring me to read them multiple times to comprehend them.
The whole exam is like a fever dream, and I don’t even realize I have finished all the questions until I am on the confirmation screen, which politely asks if I am ready to submit my paper. Pride courses through me as I realize that I have managed to finish the exam in two and a half hours out of the allocated 3 hours. I look to my side and see that Corvus has already finished and left the room, so I confirm my submission and go to join him. As I leave the classroom, I find him leaning against the wall, beckoning to me with a smile to join him.
Instantly, he whispers, “Dude, if we had not stolen that rich and somewhat smart kid’s book last month, we would have been so screwed. Like, half of the questions were from that book, and they were only present in that book. I feel sad for the rest of the kids; they will struggle so hard.”
I reply, “We can’t do anything about that. You know that all those books we stole from those kids are illegal. It was hard to use them with all the monitoring scans everywhere. Also, we should stop talking about this, as someone might overhear, plus you have not explained how the exam went for you.”
After about 15 minutes, Mara exited the room and joined us, giving each of us a warm smile on her face and a knowing look.
“Well, that was interesting. How many people do you think will fail this exam?”
“Way too many,” Corvus replies with a solemn head shake.
“Way too little,” I reply at the same time.
As both Mara and Corvus turn to stare at me, I rush to defend myself, “Well, fewer people qualifying means we have less competition, especially since the physical portion is based on a rank cutoff instead of a percentile.”
“That's cold, bro,” was Corvus's only response.
“Well, consider it. Corvus.” Mara stands up for me. "He has a valid point. Everyone is out for themselves."
“I guess, yea, but it just doesn’t sit right with me,” Corvus replies.
“Since when has this world been fair?” Mara quips back.
Corvus sinks into a contemplative silence, gazing out the window at the city's skyscrapers. While Mara and I continue to chat about pretty much anything other than the exam, when I get around to telling her about the day before yesterday’s event, even Corvus can't help but join in.
After what felt like an eternity, Dr. Gent finally emerges from the examination room. The hushed whispers that had arisen over the past few minutes quickly die as she clears her throat and addresses us.
"Young Cadets, the time for the written examination has ended. If you still need to complete the questions by now, you are disqualified from further consideration. For those who have finished, the next phase awaits."
A collective sigh of relief rippled through the crowd, but on a few faces, there was disappointment for their friends. Every year there is a twist; last year they pumped the rooms with a slight sleep-inducing agent, so for those unlucky few who had stayed up late all night, they all fell asleep on their benches. Sadly, such blatant discrimination is expected and is just another way to thin the crowd.
Dr. Gent continues speaking, "We will now call the names of the candidates who have qualified for the physical examination. Please listen carefully. We will call five names at a time. If your name is not called, you have not qualified for the next round. If you have qualified for the next round, please head to B-Wing Room 101 to await further instructions.”
The tension in the air reaches a fever pitch as Dr. Gent reads out the names. Each name echoes through the corridor, and with each announcement, the crowd thins. My heart pounds in my chest as I listen, hoping to hear my name.
“Elian Sylvus." Dr. Gent's voice rings, and a surge of relief washes over me. I exchange a quick glance with Corvus and Mara, who nod in acknowledgment with small smiles on their faces on my behalf.
While the names were being called, I couldn't help but notice the range of emotions on everyone's faces. It was a symphony of human emotions: joy, disappointment, and lastly, satisfaction.
Eventually, Dr. Gent finishes the list for our group. “The rest of you, thank you for participating. We appreciate your efforts, but you will not proceed to the next round. Please exit the premises promptly.” And with that, she turns around and heads back out the door she came in from without a second look at us.
The rejected candidates file out silently, their dreams of becoming Enhanced shattered. It was a harsh reality, and as I walk past them, I am unable to shake the guilt gnawing at me. In this unforgiving world, survival demands a certain ruthlessness, so I push those thoughts aside.
Following the directions, I lead Corvus and Mara toward B-Wing Room 101. After a walk filled with a mix of relieved smiles and nervous glances, we enter the designated room, where other qualifiers are already gathering.
The room has already been divided into four groups, each representing a distinct social class. The first is filled with the sons and daughters of politicians, billionaires, commanders, and the like. Next to them is the largest group, which takes over half the room and has people belonging to the mid-upper and middle-upper classes, all of whom are trying to rub shoulders with each other. The third group with the smallest number of people is the poor, who are wondering what this break from work will cost them, and the last group is the people who don’t care about all this social maneuvering at all. This is the group my friends and I join.
As we reach a secluded corner, an argument breaks out between a kid dressed in an expensive suit and a poorer one who is dressed in a formal shirt and jeans a couple of sizes too large. Instantly, each member of both groups eyes each other, the poor with anger and the rich with disdain. And as always, the middle group gets caught in between.
“Those idiots are going to waste their energy before the exam even begins,” Mara comments on seeing this.
“All the better for us, right? Also, Corvus, did you find out anything about this phase of the exam? There is nothing on the feeds about this.” I reply while shrugging my shoulders.
"Yeah, I'm not too sure, but based on the information we stole from all the rich kids, they are also not sure. There is a medical exam where they see your blood, bone density, and some other medical stuff. Then we are off to the stadium, and here all the information gets foggy; it appears to be highly censored, more so than even military top-secret documents. If we pass the medical exam, then we will be taken to the stadium, where they measure our pain resistance."
“How do they even do that?” Mara doesn't even hesitate for a moment before asking.
“Well, if you ever spent even a single second thinking about it, then you would realize that the only way to do so will be to cause us pain somehow until we either give up or pass out.” Corvus fires back at Mara, which causes the latter to punch Corvus in the arm. Inciting a pained, “Ow!”
Seeing them and shaking my head, I have to reply, “That seems quite cruel and unnecessarily tough. However, I wonder how the rich kids are going to get past this. Also, both of you are like cats and dogs.” Alas, this was the wrong move, as they only dragged me into their banter.
After about 10 minutes, the last qualifying student, a girl wearing a dark emerald gown that is adorned with intricate gold threads and wearing more makeup than should be legal, enters. Only then does Dr. Gent come in through the doors and begin speaking.
“Welcome, qualifiers, to the next phase of the Enhanced Aptitude Test." Dr. Gent's voice reverberated in the room. “I trust the written examination was challenging, but the actual test lies ahead. Today, we will assess not just your intellectual prowess but also your physical capabilities. The path to becoming Enhanced demands a holistic evaluation of your potential.”
She glanced around the room, her sharp eyes scrutinizing each face. "First, you will undergo a medical examination to ensure that you are fit for the subsequent tests. We will measure several factors, so kindly assist the medical team with their necessary tasks. We have equipped ten of the rooms in this wing with medical stations. A Holoscreen in front of each room will indicate which among your number will have your physical inspection there. Please head to the stadium if you pass the physical inspection. You shall be provided with lunch there from 1 o'clock to 2 o'clock and not a minute after. You must be ready for the next phase of EAT before 2:30. Those who are not ready by that time may not proceed further. Is that clear?”
The room filled with a chorus of affirmations as candidates nodded or mumbled their agreement. Dr. Gent continued, “Good. Now, proceed to your designated medical station and await further instructions. Best of luck, young cadets.” As she finishes, the room is filled with buzzing activity as candidates shuffle towards the entrance to the other rooms in this wing. Corvus, Mara, and I follow the flow, glancing at the Holoscreens to find our designated rooms.
Upon entering Room 102, I find a team of medical personnel waiting. The room has been separated into five different sub-areas, with each area surrounded by privacy curtains. As I enter one of these areas, I find it equipped with various devices, and the air holds the sterile scent of antiseptic.
A middle-aged woman in a white coat approaches me, her eyes scanning a holographic display. “Elian Sylvus, correct?” she inquires, and I nod in response.
The medical examination is thorough and invasive. Blood samples are taken, bone density is measured, and a series of scans assess various aspects of my physical health. The medical personnel remain silent and focused on their tasks throughout the process, leaving me in awkward silence as I watch them work on me.
Once the examination is complete, the woman hands me a small datapad. “This contains the results of your medical evaluation. If you have passed, proceed to the stadium for the next phase. If not, you will be guided to the exit. Please continue to keep this pad by your side. This will be your identity card to pass security at the stadium.” Without even looking to see if I have questions, she turns and begins clearing away and resetting this area for its next use.
As I exit the room and look at the Holopad. Bloody Stars—what kind of standards are these? Are they trying to send us on some deep space mission?
I have passed, but the margin was far smaller than I had expected. The only thing I was even slightly worried about was my nutrient levels, as I am quite fit because of my lifestyle. It is the standard set for the tests; every one of them requires almost perfect cardio-muscular health. This is probably the reason I'm not shocked to see so many rich kids fail this part of the exam with their lifestyles of comfort. Smiling internally to myself as I think about the competition reducing, I decide to wait for my friends. Mara, I'm sure, will pass with flying colors, but it's Corvus that I'm worried about with his scrawny frame.
As I wait for my friends, I can't help but reflect on the harsh reality of the EAT. The test not only gauges intellectual prowess but also demands physical excellence. It's a deliberate attempt to create a hierarchy based on both mental and physical abilities. The divide between the social classes is evident, and they tailor the challenges posed to favor the privileged. Seems like robbing those supplements was useful after all.
Corvus emerges from Room 103, looking slightly disheveled but with a confident smile. "Passed with flying colors," he announces, holding up his datapad. Relief floods through me, knowing that my friend has cleared this hurdle.
As Mara exits Room 104, her eyes meet mine, and she gives a subtle nod. No words are needed; the results are apparent. The three of us, against the odds, have all passed the medical examination.
The journey to the stadium is both quick and way too long for my liking. The sprawling structure looms on the horizon, its silhouette outlined against the backdrop of the city like the crowning jewel atop a king’s crown. The air is thick with a sense of foreboding, as if the very walls of the stadium are talking about what is going to happen inside.
The stadium's size becomes clear upon arrival. Its vast construction overshadows everything that surrounds it. The entryway, like the coliseums of old, is like a portal to an arena of unknown difficulties. The echoes of our footsteps resonate across the wide passageways as we enter.
The interior blends technology with ancient architecture. Holographic displays adorn the walls, showcasing the achievements of past Enhanced. As we join the flow of two hundred candidates who passed the medical exam toward the underworks of the stadium, in one of the big rooms where public interviews normally take place, lunch is going to be served.
We are sent an alert on our datapads informing us that in one of the rooms, lunch will be served soon. As we set foot inside the stadium, we are immediately stopped and asked to show our datapads to the security team. Showing our datapads, we are allowed to walk onward into the belly of this beast, which could hold over 100,000 spectators in its stands.
As we enter the underworks, a place that only elites usually see, it is one of the most elegant places I have ever seen. Whereas the top was imposing, this is warm and comforting. The walls and ceiling are of deep, dark colors with golden highlights, with the lights placed to bring out their beauty, while the floor is carpeted in expansive rugs with striking decorations, breaking up the monotony. Not enough to make it feel cluttered, but just enough to feel homely.
The aroma of freshly prepared food wafts through the air, causing my stomach to grumble.
The room is filled with the chatter of candidates, some exchanging nervous glances while others try to maintain a facade of confidence. Corvus, Mara, and I find an empty table and sit down, our datapads still in hand. We compare the various tests we underwent and how we were in relation to the rest of the population.
Corvus, always one to bring a touch of humor even in serious situations, quips, "Well, at least the food is good. Maybe that's their way of comforting us before they throw us into whatever awaits in the stadium."
Mara chuckles, "True, but I doubt they're concerned about our comfort. More like trying to keep us physically fueled for whatever comes next. Speaking of which, any idea what's in store for us in the stadium? The lack of information is getting to me."
I glance around to see if anyone nearby is eavesdropping before responding, “Corvus mentioned something about pain resistance tests, but the details are hazy. It's probably something they want to keep under wraps, given the surrounding secrecy. All I know is that it's going to be intense.”
Mara nods. "Well, we've made it this far, and there’s no reason not to go all the way."
Our conversation is rudely interrupted as a holo-announcement echoes through the room, instructing candidates to finish their meals and proceed to the designated area for the next phase of the examination.
As we stand up and make our way towards the exit, the grandeur of the underworks once again strikes me. The splendor feels out of character for an event that is a survival test.
As we reach the main entrance to the stadium’s ground, a massive gate opens, revealing the sprawling arena beyond. The stadium seats tower above us, empty yet imposing. Yet that is not the sight that causes me the most nervousness. That award goes to the rows of devices that look like massage chairs with VR head domes on top. All the devices are arranged around a central wooden platform, atop which Dr. Gent stands.
Upon entering the arena, my datapad buzzes, revealing the location of my seat. With a final smile and a hurried "Good Luck," my friends and I part ways. Moving toward my designated seat, the stadium's magnitude envelops me. The grandiosity of the structure, along with the eerie silence of the empty seats, heightens the sense of foreboding.
Seated in my designated chair, I can't help but glance around at the other candidates. Some wear expressions of determination, while others betray a hint of fear.
Dr. Gent's voice echoes through the stadium, her words amplified by hidden speakers. "Welcome, candidates, to the next phase of the Enhanced Aptitude Test. The physical examination will now assess your pain resistance as being an Enhanced means to carry the burden of mankind’s hopes. The devices you are in simulate various levels of pain tolerance. The hood of your device will be lowered to remove all other senses."
Dr. Gent slowly turns in a circle, as if trying to look into the eyes of everyone present, while continuing to speak. “The test is divided into various ranks, ranging from G to S. G represents the pain tolerance of a Tier 0 human or a normal adult. F represents the pain tolerance of Tier 1 Enhanced, and so on up to Tier 7, which is the S Rank. Each Rank is further divided into a range of levels from 0 to 9. To pass, you only need to reach F0.
To put this into perspective, G0 is the weakest pain tolerance, while F5 is the theoretical maximum pain tolerance of an unenhanced human. For unenhanced humans, the average pain tolerance is around G7. While for Tier 1 Enhanced the average pain tolerance is F7, for Tier 2, it is E7, and so on. The reason for this small gap is that the Tier 1 enhancement is the smallest, and every one after that is exponential, but the levels are corrected accordingly. Hence, the difference between the two levels of the A-Rank is greater than the entire E-Rank.
May your stars shine forever bright.”
As she finishes her slow circle, she suddenly taps the air as if clicking an unseen button. Then, the hum of the machines accompanies the descent of the domes over our heads, followed by a prick of pain on the nape of my neck.
The experience would have been chilling if not for the sudden increase in gravity. Fortunately, it's only a slight increase, and then gravity feels like it’s slowly shifting in a complex pattern around me, pulling and pushing on my various tissues. It is honestly quite like a massage.
Finally, the revolving gravity reaches its original position below my feet. Somewhere along the way, I have lost my sense of time, leaving me with no idea whether it has been a minute or an hour. An ethereal, feminine voice in my head calls out, “G0 passed.”
Instantly, the pain increases again and continues its slow revolution, and I finally feel the sting of pain. Luckily, it is nothing more than an annoying mosquito bite. Not willing to take any chances, I force my mind to drift and think of any random passing thought.
Several callouts come and go, and I lose track completely until G7 is called out. The pain increases again, and I feel like I am under a constant barrage of punches. Gathering my willpower, I force myself to think of something else.
This leads me to wonder about my fellow test takers. How many of those rich kids have faced even a single pinch or a slap in their lives? I wonder how they will cheat their way out of this. This is quite unlike what I heard of the exam; isn't it meant to be a shoo-in for rich kids? I mentally shrug and put this conundrum away. I think of my fellow street rats; the only ones who have made it here have either been very successful at stealing from those rich kids like me and my friends or the geniuses of the gangs.
I shudder internally at the thought of the gangs' geniuses. Sure, it sounds fantastic in writing, but the reality is quite different. For a gang to even consider sponsoring you, you must demonstrate your ability to be cold and calculating, and thus the tests for selecting the candidate are on the verge of being remotely humane. Even that pales compared to the fact that gangs will not sponsor you unless you are an inner member or they have complete control over you. For a single Tier 2 Enhanced can wipe out entire gangs on their own.
And so, my thoughts flutter around like a butterfly in the meadow, but they often return to my worry about how my friends are doing and my concern for my sister.
Time flows past me as I fight harder and harder to keep my brain disconnected from the pain. Bursts of tearing pain pulse through my mind. My head feels heavy, and there is a strong sense of nausea. My mind races—half panicked, half determined. For a moment, I focus on the pain, homing in on every sensation. Where it comes from, how badly it hurts, and how badly I want it to stop.
I try to let out a moaning yelp, part desperation and part determination, only to discover that I can't seem to move my mouth or any other body part. It's almost as if I am in someone else’s body. However, determined not to let the pain ruin this day, I struggle onward. Perhaps not the best solution, but I have no choice. Several callouts come and go, with me intending to head to them until I just cannot take it anymore.
“Test Complete. Maximum Rank Achieved F3. PASSED. The candidate is recommended to head to the main stage to await further instructions.”
With those words, my pain ceases, and the machine's retracting dome jolts me back to reality as my senses gradually return. The first thing my pain-foggy brain notices is how normal my body feels—almost as if it never was screaming in pain to begin with.
I freeze, trying to comprehend the words of that ethereal voice, unable to fully grasp what I have just heard. Did I succeed? As the understanding kicks in, I glance up into the sky and just take it all in. All of my efforts, including the robberies, have paid off. Then I remember my friends, and I look at the other exam takers for them. Almost all the rows are now vacant, and I was among the last few hopefuls to pass. A sense of melancholy settles in as I give up on searching for them.
Heading towards the stage, I climb the steps leading to it. I see Corvus and Mara in a corner of the stage, hidden from view by the projectors, conversing with each other, rushing up the stairs as I hurry to join them.
Mara, as usual, is the first to notice and cries out to me, "You had to go and one up me and Corvus? Did you not? Mr. F3."
I reply sheepishly, "I may or may not have lost track."
"Don't listen to her," Corvus says, giving me a fist bump before adding, "She's just sour that you defeated her and mine's F2 rank."
Before Mara could reply, a man wearing a white, fairly short-sleeved shirt neatly tucked into his trousers and covered with a graceful jacket interrupted us. “Your presence is required immediately in conference rooms no. 1, 2, and 3. Follow me.”
Without glancing in our direction, he turns around and rushes down the stairs toward the underworks. We hurry to catch up to him, our faces marked with worry as we wonder why we are being called. Is it entirely because of our thefts or some other reason?
In no time, we reach a corridor with a room on either side and one at the end. Before we can even process it, the man says, “Choose and head into one of the rooms immediately.”
I promptly enter the room on the left and close the door, hearing someone clearing their throat behind me. I turn around to find that the room is very bare, with a desk and a seat facing it.
Standing in front of the desk as a projection is a woman with short chestnut hair that slightly covers a lean, solemn face. Her calculative green eyes seem to see everything and nothing at all.
Speaking for the first time with a soothing yet somehow authoritative voice, she says, “Sit down. You have a choice to make.”
I move over to the chair and sit down before she continues, “I am Hestia, an AI named after the Greek goddess of hearth and home. Before I tell you about your choice, I need to educate you on gaps in your knowledge and inform you that you may not speak of what has been told here to anyone.”
As Hestia's holographic image hovers before me, her gaze locks onto mine as she talks again. "Twenty years ago, on the eve of what came to be known as the Dark Days, Earth's technology advanced to the point where an AI of my caliber could be created. An ultimatum was conveyed to Earth's lawmakers the instant the galactic community learned of this news. The ultimatum was simple: Join the Galactic Council, disband the nations, and create a world council holding real-world power with 50% of the voting power going to an overseeing artificial intelligence."
She pauses, as though letting those words sink in. "That AI was me, Hestia. My primary goal since the start of my creation has been to make the planet a better place. That's why I initiated a massive project involving most of this planet's smartest minds to reverse engineer technology from the wider cosmos. They combined this with technological developments on Earth to produce equipment that could improve people and get them ready for the difficulties that lay ahead."
"The war against the last few countries that were holding out concluded after roughly five years, at which point the World Council was at last established. Only then did I execute my plan. The Enhanced Aptitude Test was born as a means to select individuals worthy of this transformation. To negotiate the political environment, the first section of the exam was designed to appeal to the wealthy and powerful. Hence, to ensure that only people with extraordinary traits might become Enhanced, the second section was an accurate test of resilience under the excuse that the process itself is extremely painful to the point of death."
She stops speaking as if hesitating to continue, but only for a moment, before continuing as if the pause never happened. "Now that we are on the brink of Earth's first participation in the galactic games in about 10 years, the World Council has given the go-ahead to test a completely new iteration of the Enhanced technology. The bundle now includes greater features, upgraded hardware, and sophisticated AI. It will be a more intense process, though, and possibly fatal. You and your friends are among the very few who have been selected for this test because of your extraordinary tolerance to pain and a particular lack of influence in the event of your death."
Hestia's entire body language went from rigorous and uptight to friendly and lighthearted, as if someone switched a switch. "Phew!" she exclaimed before continuing. “Now that speech from the World Council is done. You must decide whether to use the new technology. I'll be brutally honest and say you have a 90% probability of success while your pals have an 80% chance; however, the power difference between you and other Enhanced will be tremendous if you choose to accept the offer. A regular new Tier 1 starts at roughly F3–F5, which is in the superhuman range; however, you will not earn any significant benefits initially as you will start at F0, but you'll be able to ascend the ranks faster and be stronger on a level-by-level basis. Hence, I feel you should accept this offer; however, remember, it's your choice. If you need a moment, do not hesitate to ask. I understand that this can be quite a lot to get a grip on.”
I take a few moments to process everything; that's a lot of information to cram into my already fatigued mind.
Power is great, but the only reason I want to become Enhanced is to improve my financial situation and give my sister a better education. Though Corvus and Mara would undoubtedly accept it immediately, I am content to cheer them on from the sidelines. But I need to confirm something before I make my decision.
“What is the chance I will die during the normal process?”
The reply comes instantaneously: “Zero percent.”
The choice seems almost obvious to me. I decline politely when Hestia interrupts me. "Before you decline, you should know that people who will become Enhanced through this offer will be given a choice to choose another non-Enhanced person to receive a military pension."
“Well, you should have started with that. I accept.”