He woke up early in the morning.
Excitement… nervousness… fear… hesitation.
He couldn't quite tell what he was feeling. Still, he stood up lost in thought and took a shower,
What if it doesn't go as planned?
What if the merging fails?
What if he can't find his way back?
He didn't want to disappoint his family and make them sad.
A loving mother a supportive father neither of them have ever scolded him or got angry at his strange obsession.
The thought of disappointing them made him reconsider his decision.
He took a deep breath.
"Okay, I've made my decision," he shouted at the showerhead.
He got dressed and stepped out of his room.
His mother was cooking something in the kitchen, while his father was sitting on the couch reading a digital holographic newspaper.
Soren stood there silently, watching his parents. Then, after gathering some courage, he spoke:
"Father, Mother, I've decided to drop the idea of merging with the beetle DNA. As you suggested, I'll choose another one that suits me better."
Upon hearing his words, both parents turned to him with confused expressions.
He was taken aback—they looked puzzled instead of relieved.
A strange silence fell over the room.
His mother was the first to break it.
"Soren, my dear, do whatever you want. We support your decision."
Her expression turned solemn.
"We were… we were just worried about your safety."
She looked like she was about to get emotional when suddenly, his father spoke in a calm, confident voice.
"You didn't have to worry about us. We're confident that you'll succeed," his father said.
After a brief pause, he continued, "Even if you fail the enhancement process, I've already booked a special DNA replication treatment. They'll take care of you, even if things don't go as planned."
"That… that newly developed DNA replication technique that can cure the side effects of failed DNA merging—wasn't that just recently announced? And isn't it extremely expensive?"
His father chuckled.
"Hah, you don't need to worry about the cost. I have enough savings to support my son."*
He took a short breath, turned off his holographic news, and spoke again in a serious tone:
*"But if you fail once, even after the treatment, you won't be able to go through DNA merging again—or even install an artificial heart. Are you willing to risk it all, my son?"
Soren nodded immediately, his resolve hard as steel.
Suddenly, he felt a watery sensation in his eyes.
His mother smiled and in very gentle voice spoke.
*"Oh my, look—my big boy is crying. The one who didn't even cry when he was a baby. I used to think something was wrong with you because you always stayed so quiet…"*
As she was about to continue, Soren leapt in front of the dining table.
*"No one's crying here, Mother!"*
He picked up a toast and dashed outside.
*"I'll be on my way then!"*
*"Soren… at least eat breakfast properly before going out,"* she called after him.
He looked toward his parents with a smile as bright as a flame fueled by love and affection, waving his hand.
*"We'll have a celebration dinner tonight—wait for the good news!"*
His mother sighed with a hint of a smile, and gently waved back at him.
Soren reached the plaza before sunrise.
He stood before the imposing glass towers of New Geneva University's Bioenhancement Division.
Pulsing neon stripes spread along the building's edges, casting shadows of electricity blue across the concrete plaza. Students moved in clusters around him,
He stood a moment and watched students gather. Some laughed too loud. Some stared at the ground. A few paced with tight jaws.
He rolled his shoulders and walked in.
"First time up close?" a voice asked.
He turned. Silver hair. Blue eyes that didn't blink much. The black uniform fit like it had been measured with a laser.
"Something like that," he said.
"Zara Steelheart." She offered her hand. "My family oversees the artificial heart program."
He shook it. Her grip was steady. Warm. Not soft.
"Soren Cross. I'm in the biological track."
"Biological?" Her eyebrow lifted. "Bold. Most people want the safe route. Two hearts beat longer than one."
He looked at the logo on her badge: a small blue core over a stylized heart.
"Two?" he asked.
"We add an artificial heart," she said, tapping her chest. "Natural stays. Reactor supports. You get endurance and power without losing your own pump."
He nodded once.
"What DNA are you merging?"
"Tiger beetle."
The noise in the hall kept moving. The air between them didn't.
"You're joking," she said.
"I'm not."
"Insect merger has a terrible record. Your brain won't handle the input. People snap."
"People also said flight was impossible," he said. "Until someone flew."
She studied him like a math problem that should be simple but wasn't. "You're serious."
"I am."
A new voice cut in, low and amused. "Steelheart found a project to fix?"
They both turned.
Lyra Shadowmane walked like she was ready to change direction mid-step. Black hair to her shoulders. Eyes that caught light the way a cat's do at night. No badge flash. No need.
"You're early," Zara said.
"I like to see who's hunting the same ground," Lyra said. She looked Soren over without flinching. "Tiger beetle?"
"Yes."
"I've seen worse bets," she said.
Zara snorted. "You're encouraging him?"
"I'm saying the world's fast," Lyra said. "Maybe it's time someone matched it."
"Big talk from someone born into a clan that stacks the deck," Zara said.
"We all play the hand we have," Lyra said. "Some of us do not fold just because the table looks rigged."
Soren glanced at the wall screen. Names scrolled. AR paths in blue. DNA paths in green. Red tags blinked over certain animals. No beetles listed.
"You know the risks," Zara said to him, softer now. "I'm not mocking. I'm telling you there's a safer path. Add the second heart. Train smart. Live longer."
He held her gaze. "I hear you."
"But?"
"I've wanted this since i was a child," he said. "I'm not walking it back at the door."
Lyra smiled. "Good answer."
A chime rolled through the atrium. Doors opened deeper in. Staff in white coats and black coats split the flow.
"Orientation," Zara said. "Try not to faint."
"Try not to gloat," Lyra said.
They moved with the crowd. The amphitheater smelled like disinfectant and ozone. Rows of seats curved around a central platform. Holograms blinked to life overhead.
A woman flickered into view—short hair, hard eyes, voice like a clean cut. "Welcome to the Division of Bioenhancement."
The room quieted quick.
"You're here to add what your bodies don't have," she said. "Some of you will add an artificial heart. Some of you will merge with animal DNA. All of you will leave different."
On cue, the air filled with floating anatomy—rib cages, arteries, nerve maps. Blue glows pulsed where the artificial heart would sit. Green lines traced neural pathways.
"Artificial heart candidates," she said, "you will undergo surgical implantation of a reactor-assisted heart. Your natural heart remains. The system runs in tandem. Dual circulation. Increased endurance. Interface access."
Zara leaned forward, eyes on the blue.
"DNA candidates," the woman said, "you will merge your genetic structure with your chosen species. Merging means addition and integration, not replacement. Our work is to make your nervous system accept new inputs without losing you in the process."
Lyra's fingers drummed once on her knee and stopped.
"Nothing here is risk-free," the woman said. "Courage doesn't cancel consequences. It just meets them standing."
The holograms died. Lights rose.
"Check the boards," an aide called. "Find your assignment. Do not be late."
The hall erupted in voices. Shoes scuffed. Chairs clicked back. The air warmed with bodies moving fast.
Soren pushed through to the assignment wall. Names rolled past. He found his.
Cross, Soren — Integration Chamber 7 — Supervisor: Dr. Helena Voss.
He felt the tiny jolt in his chest and made it a breath out, not a flinch.
"Seven?" Lyra asked at his shoulder.
"Seven."
"I'm in Four," she said. "Martinez. Black panther integration. It's been in our line for generations. Clean uptake. Mostly."
"Mostly?"
She smiled with half her mouth. "No point lying on day one."
Zara reached them. Her group hovered a beat behind her, waiting to see who she insulted next.
"Where?" she asked.
"Seven," Soren said.
"Voss," she said. "She's serious. She'll tell you the odds and watch anyway. If you start to break, she'll stop it. If you don't, she'll take notes."
"Thanks for the pep talk," he said.
"That was the pep talk," she said, almost smiling. "I meant what I said earlier. If you want the dual heart track, I can open that door."
"I know," he said. "I'm staying."
Her jaw worked once. "Then do not die trying to prove a point."
Lyra's eyes flashed. "He isn't proving a point. He's chasing a limit."
"You'll forgive me if I prefer limits that don't shatter skulls," Zara said.
"You added a reactor next to your own heart," Lyra said. "Let's not pretend your path is a spa day."
They stared at each other again—blue cold versus warm amber. The air between them felt like a live wire.
Soren stepped back half a pace and broke the line of sight they were using him to draw.
"I need to read the pre-integration package," he said.
"Do that," Zara said. "Hydrate. No stimulants. Sleep if you can."
Lyra touched his forearm. Quick. Light. "Breathe through the start," she said. "Predators adapt because they must."
He nodded.
They drifted apart with the flow. Zara's group peeled off toward a wing that pulsed blue. Lyra took a ramp down into the green-lit halls.
Soren found a quiet bench under a dead screen. The pre-integration docs loaded on his terminal. He read fast. He read again slower.
He kept it simple in his head.
Merge, not replace.
Layer, not drown.
Trust the body when it says move.
He left the amphitheater and walked the long ring corridor alone. The glass showed the city outside. Rain had come and gone. Streets shone. Distant towers blinked. Drones drifted like lazy fish in a tall black tank.
He stopped at a vending bay and bought water. It tasted like nothing. He drank anyway.
A janitor bot whirred past and dropped a napkin. He bent to pick it up and saw the edge of a sticker under the machine. He tugged it free.
A tiger beetle, stylized, mid-run. Someone had drawn little speed lines behind it and written go faster under it with a marker.
He smiled despite himself and stuck it inside his jacket.
Back in the dorm, Jake sat on his bed with a compression wrap under his shirt, blinking at a holo.
"You look alive," Soren said.
"I am alive," Jake said. "The tech buzzes when I climb stairs. It's weird. Good weird. You?"
"Chamber Seven. Voss."
"Serious lady," Jake said. "She doesn't blink at all."
"Maybe she doesn't need to," Soren said.
"You still sure?" Jake asked.
"Yeah."
Jake set the holo aside. "Okay. Then do three things. Eat. Shower. Sleep."
"You sound like my mom."
"I'm your smarter, poorer mom," Jake said. "Who can't afford to bury you."
Soren ate the protein block he'd been avoiding for a week. He showered until the heat ran out. He lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling fan until the hum became a road.
He did not dream about fire. He did not dream about bugs. He dreamed about a line he could not see, only feel, and a thousand feet moving faster than thought.
He woke before the alarm. He dressed without thinking. He checked the sticker. Still there. Still dumb. Still right.
The campus was quieter than a grave when he stepped outside. Lights hummed. The sky had that color that happens right before morning remembers to show up.
He passed the clinic wing. Blue pulsed behind thick glass. He pictured Zara under white lights, a second heart going in beside her own. Two beats learning to keep time.
He turned toward the bio wing. Green lit the floor in thin strips. It made the hall feel like it had depth under his feet.
At the door to Chamber Seven, he stopped and let his hands be still.
He wasn't fearless. He never had been. Fear was loud. It was honest. It kept you from stepping into traffic and off roofs.
He pushed the door anyway.
A woman stood with her back to him, going over a tray of instruments. Black hair pulled tight. Coat too clean for a long day.
"Cross?" she said without turning.
"Yes."
"Helena Voss," she said, turning now. Her eyes were pale green and direct. "You read the packet."
"I did."
"Good. Sit. Shoes off. Jacket on the hook." She glanced at him once more, measuring. "You've got clear eyes. Keep them that way."
He sat. He set his shoes together neatly because order felt like control. He looked at her hands. They were steady. That helped.
"We're merging tiger beetle DNA," she said. "You keep your mind. It adds capability. If your body says stop, you say stop. If your mind says stop and your body argues, you still say stop. Clear?"
"Clear."
"Good." She checked a monitor. "Breathe. We start with baseline scans.It will take three days to prepare everything , Nothing goes in until I'm happy with every number I see."
He breathed.
The machine purred.
The room smelled faintly of lemon and metal.
Soren closed his eyes for one beat and saw a beetle blur across a strip of sand. It ran so fast the world went soft around it.
He opened his eyes.
"Let's go," he said.
Voss nodded once and turned to her console.
He did not look back. He had already chosen the direction.
Outside, New Geneva's towers blinked in the early light like a city trying to wake up and go faster.