Could it be that our brain chemistry has rotted us from the start? Do we lack a purpose, or is it that loneliness has corrupted the mind? Is it a generation given everything, or the one with nothing? The generational mind is dying; maybe it is trauma that hasn’t been processed. The words come from the past, their date unknown. The Library of Archived Minds Entry #684

  A Man whose name had little importance sat on a bench, cold as stone, with a black sky overhead. He was old, and his slow, cautious breaths reflected that. The man was exhausted but relaxed. The Minds gave him a sense of accomplishment that he had only recently begun to accept. He was the third generation who had been integrated. What a slow process evolution is, the man thought to himself. His thoughts drifted to his earlier school days. He remembered learning the history of The Minds. The brain is only capable of a limited capacity of its finite resources. The Minds bypass that limitation. Digitally capable of learning far beyond what was standard.

  The man understood that the original design of The Minds was intended to be flawless. But only a handful of people would become integrated. Most of his friends grew old without The Minds, while some developed it in their youth. Most people gave up on wishing the older they got. He had gotten lucky to become integrated at his age, which had proven to be quite rare.

  His phone buzzed, displaying the update from CelTech. The title popped out of the screen in bold letters, reading out, “Studies show Next Generation of Integrated aims to target ages 16-18”. The man grinned to himself; he had only developed The Minds last year. He had been enrolled in an academy, a special program designed for teaching people with The Minds.

  The classrooms at the academy were covered in digital walls where light sank into the black surface, devoid of any reflection. Pixels of color danced across the wall. The rest of the room was illuminated by a fluorescent blanket of light that rained down on top of their heads. There sat no more than forty people in the classroom. A wide variety, mostly young but with different features. The class buzzed as the professor set up his computer. Just as the class was getting ready to start, a young man sat down rather abruptly in the seat adjacent to the old man.

  “Hello, what's your name?” the younger man asked snappingly as he pulled out a laptop from his bag and set it down in front of him.

  “Charles,” the man exclaimed, smiling widely before stroking his beard. Charles's beard reached down to his chest and sparkled with grey throughout it.

  “Nice to meet you,” the younger man nodded before the Professor demanded silence.

  The board in front of the class sprang to life. The colorful pixels arranged themselves forming the words, “Dr. Ingles”.

  “Hello, class, I hope you are quite excited today. It is an accelerated class, so be prepared to go fast. Now, before I kick off, I have a brief announcement, as I’m sure most are aware. CelTec just announced that in the next generation, we should see an uptick in the younger population becoming integrated. It's wonderful news.”

  The board instantly started displaying CelTec's announcement, listing the Members who had participated in the decision. The names floated down the screen: Dave Pollard, Rodger Flowers, Chuck Thorne, and Tracy Matthews were listed on the top document.

  “A rough estimate is that a quarter of the population currently has access to The Minds. So, consider yourselves lucky. I would consider you even more lucky to be a part of this highly exclusive academy. Throughout your time here, each one of you will have the opportunity to build up skills for what we call training day. It is a test that will determine how useful you are. At the end of the academy, you will be given a commanding officer who will place you in a very lucrative assignment. The better you train the Minds, the better you will be placed and the more money you can earn.”

  Dr. Ingles looked around at the variety of students in his classroom. His gaze seemed to hover over Charles before moving on to other students.

  “Now raise your hand if you have developed The Minds within the last couple of weeks.” Most of the class raised their hands. The professor nodded, "Interesting, so most of you are fresh. The Minds present itself in different ways for everyone. For most people, it is almost unnoticeable, a swift shift in mood. Sometimes people can tell the time without looking at a clock, knowing the directions of how to get somewhere without looking it up. Other times, it is much more disorienting, feeling restless, agitated. Everything that you look at or touch seems to go haywire. Does anyone care to share their experience?”

  The room stood still, everyone holding their breath in silence. A minute went by as Dr. Ingles looked around the room, his gaze hovered over Charles.

  “Alright, then, how about you in the yellow shirt?” He pointed to the younger man who sat beside Charles, “What was your first experience with The Minds?”

  The younger man hesitated, “I felt something shift, like my mind suddenly became clear. I went to a CelTec Center that tested my link, confirming The Minds. It felt as if a headache had finally gone away.

  “That's good,” Dr. Ingles responded, pleased with the answer.

  “And what was your name, sir?” he asked.

  “Leon,” he said, shifting nervously in his seat. It was uncomfortable for Leon; everything about the Academy went against his values. But what else was he going to do?

  “Thank you, Leon. We know the Minds don’t always work the way CelTec designed them; there are mutations that, while seldom occurring, can happen. For that reason, some people develop the Minds very noticeably, while for others their appearance seems almost invisible.”

  Dr. Ingles paced around the room. “The Minds were a byproduct of the system, a growing intelligence that resulted in the rapid expansion of our technology. Without the proper regulation of the system, people were losing their way of life, as the system was proving how fast it could leave humanity behind. So, the greatest minds around the world came together to form CelTec, designed to tackle this problem. They created The Minds as a solution, but not without some sacrifice."

  A film began to display at the front of the class, the top of a person's head. Their skull was carved out so that the brain was exposed for the whole class to see. There was an orange tint covering the lens.

  Dr. Ingles swung his arms up, pointing at the screen. “This is one of the few declassified videos that we have of the experimentees.

  The video kept playing, and a surgeon's hand steadily came into the frame, holding a needle. The surgeon held up the needle close to the camera. A grainy black substance swirled inside the tube. “The substance inside that tube is designed to amplify certain signals in your brain that can interact with the system. What you're about to see is the initial phase in CelTec's ground-floor project. Over two million people from around the world participated in this initial phase. Of those people, only three of them survived; the three that did survive developed The Minds. This was humanity’s first exposure to The Minds, what became known as The Great Sacrifice."

  A boy no older than fifteen raised his hand, “Why did they die?” He asked.

  Dr. Ingles walked up closer to the boy, peering into his eyes. “That is a good question; we still don’t have a great answer. The working theory is that most of the participants couldn’t handle the rapid changes that take place as a result of The Minds.”

  The professor waved to the board, pointing to two words, “Somatic vs Germline edits, Somatic edits are rapid, changing a person instantly. Those were the edits that the first batch of participants got almost a thousand years ago. Germline edits are changes that are passed down through generations. It allowed for The Minds to slowly become integrated in our evolution, which was much safer.

  After the death of so many people, CelTec was almost shut down until a woman named Julia began to show us what it meant to become integrated.” The image of the brain disappeared, being replaced by a video of a giant stage with Julia and an interviewer.

  ”Thank you for being here, Julia,” the interviewer said, shaking her hand. “We are glad to have you, as we have the entire world here watching us.” Julia smiled and waved into the camera. “We are devastated by what has transpired with many of the participants who risked their lives to participate in Project Ground Floor. Our thoughts go out to the families affected by this tragedy, and we thank you for your sacrifice. But, CelTec's project that was initially viewed as a tragedy has finally had a breakthrough.”

  The interviewer checked his notes before looking up, “I believe what we are about to see from CelTec is called The Minds.” The interviewer pointed to a small drone that was sitting between him and Julia. “Here we have the base model of a drone that CelTec built from scratch. It is purely hardware, only hooked up with a battery and a transponder. Julia, do you mind showing us what you can do? Julia nodded before the screen lit up between them. It was a computer screen that, within a matter of seconds, flipped through hundreds of lines of code before the drone buzzed and roared to life, pulling up a video feed of the audience. Julia looked up as the drone rose into the air, tracking her head. She moved the drone to the right and left before setting it down. The crowd erupted in applause.

  The screen went black as Dr. Ingles walked back to the front of the room. “CelTec spent the next twenty years trying to improve the safety of semantic edits, but they weren't able to replicate The Minds in anyone, and it was too costly. So they switched to germline edits, which were less costly and safer, allowing people the ability to pass on the Minds without being killed. Germline editing worked because The Minds would only develop in people who could physically handle the change.

  The light in the classroom dimmed slightly. “As most of you know, detection of the Minds was not always as easy as it is today. The Minds naturally make physical changes to your body. One of these byproducts is known as skin etching, which I know you have heard of. A completely harmless process.” The light in the room shifted from white to a soft orange. Charles looked down at his arm, and the faded cracks in his skin resembled a crooked and curved line. He looked over at Leon, who had faint cracks that resembled triangles.

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  The professor had thick, solid lines that ran up his neck before wrapping around his ears. “Every one of you has your own unique marks. As you progress with training your own version of The Minds, your marks will further reveal themselves, becoming solidified over time.

  The images on the screen flickered through the CelTec workers, all with smiles on their faces. “CelTec has a remarkable ability to predict the evolution of The Minds through humanity.”

  “The Minds allow us to integrate with technology, automating tasks that seem benign. Think of The Minds as a mini person that lives in your head.” The professor tapped his temple. “You can work on designing that person however you want. This person has been interwoven within the fabric of our world, which can work in stunning ways, allowing you to interact with technology without touching anything. But you have to carefully train your version of The Minds.”

  The professor paced around the class, giving the students a moment. He then grinned like he was about to show the class a party trick. “Each of you will have the ability to design The Minds how you want throughout your careers. The Minds communicate with us through our feelings, giving us feelings that are not our own. With practice, it is easy to distinguish the difference. I have used The Minds here today to help me teach, curating lesson plans and creating what you are seeing on the screen.”

  The screens displayed three young boys. The picture was a touch out of focus towards the corners, with the three boys in focus.

  “These are my kids,” Dr. Ingles exclaimed, his grin growing on his face. “Ethan is my oldest on the right, Liam is sitting to his left, and my youngest, Caleb, is the one holding the firetruck. Do any of you notice anything strange about this photograph?”

  Charles raised his hand, “It's a touch out of focus.” Dr. Ingles chuckled to himself before his grin contorted.

  “Maybe, if I had taken the photo. But no one took this photo. It doesn’t exist.” Everyone looked puzzled. “The Minds designed it with the help of my memories, just as they designed everything that you’ve seen on this board here today. Things that are real or imaginary. It's easy to believe everything is real when you don’t have The Minds. But now that you all have The Minds, I can show you ways of telling what's real.” The teacher looked up abruptly at the clock in the back of the classroom. “That will be all for today. Next week we will be talking more about the History of the Minds and what it means for our future,” he then rushed out of the classroom. Everyone sat still, bewildered by the abrupt end of class before shuffling out of their seats.

  Leon looked down at Charles, “Have a great rest of your day.”

  Charles responded swiftly, “You too, my friend.”

  The next class that Charles walked to had “Military Minds” sprawled on the board. This classroom was significantly smaller than the last classroom. There were only about 20 seats in the room, and a small television sat in the front of the classroom, as opposed to the walls that the other classrooms had. Charles sat down towards the front of the class for a couple of minutes before the teacher walked in. The teacher was a short, scruffy man. He had a gigantic mustache that covered most of his mouth.

  “Where is everyone?” the professor mumbled somewhat legibly through his mustache. Charles shrugged.

  There was something very familiar about the man, Charles thought to himself. His presence was welcoming. The man sat down in front of the class, picking out a variety of metal objects and setting them down on the table. The professor waved Charles over, “Come here, come here.” As Charles approached the desk, a metal ball popped up from its surface, hovering for a split second before it flew, bouncing off his temple. The ball emitted a bright white before exploding into white smoke that covered Charles. Charles wobbled back, dazed and confused.

  The professor laughed a low, bellowing chuckle. It was a funny spectacle.

  “That's cruel,” Charles said, wiping the white powder from his eyes.

  “There are not many gadgets that we can demonstrate in this class. Most of them are deadly, so I jump on any opportunity that I can get. My name is Dr. Richard’s, by the way.”

  “Charles, what was that?” Charles asked, pointing at the device.

  “That was one of the first CelTec-designed flash grenades. Here, take this,” Dr. Richards gave Charlie the device he had been tinkering with, and then walked to the other side of the room. Alright, now aim the device at me and press the red button.

  Charlie held the device gingerly before questioning the professor, “Aim it at you?”

  The professor extended his arms outward, making himself look as big as he possibly could, “Yes, yes, at me, and make sure you line it up properly with the front. Charles lined the device up, clicking the red button.

  There was a swift wooshing noise followed by a click as the latch released, and the bottom of the device swung forward in the shape of a catapult. It released a small pellet that soared across the room before it bounced off the professor. Sticking to a nearby wall. Sparks flew as it burned a hole in the wall. The professor chuckled once again to himself before walking back to Charles.

  Charles was perplexed, Now what was that?” he asked.

  The professor grabbed the device, setting it back down on the table. “Trick of the Old Minds, before CelTec made everything, people used to craft their own gadgets. I made this myself. A design that allows the pellet to only burn through non-living objects.” Dr. Richards stashed the device on his desk.

  Leon ran into the classroom, looking a little confused,

  “Sorry, I’m late. Am I in the right place?”

  “Yes, if you would like to take a seat, you may.” The professor looked at the assortment of gadgets that he had on his desk. All the while, Leon looked around the classroom. Surely someone else must be attending this class, he thought.

  “Ahh, here it is, the professor shouted out, pulling out what looked like a gun.” Charles jumped back a little at the sight of the firearm. The professor saw him jump, “Don’t worry, it can’t harm you, that's not what it was designed for.” The professor tossed the firearm towards Charles, once again jumping in his seat as he caught the weapon.

  “Another weapon of the old minds. What do you notice about it?” the professor asked. Charles held it in his hands, flipping it over. It was cold to the touch, and it was also remarkably smooth. He wrapped his finger around the trigger until he realized that there was no trigger. Just the polished slice of metal. “Where is the trigger at?” Charles asked the man.

  “There is no need for one on here, just like none of the guns that the Blues carry have any triggers. There is no need for them. Let me show you. I set up a target at the back of the room.” Charles turned around, looking towards the back of the room. There was a yellow and orange target that hung from the door. The professor motioned for Charles to toss him the gun. The professor wrapped his hand around the gun, firmly gripping it. As soon as the gun was pointing at the target, it fired, and the noise of the bullet hitting the metal target caused it to ring out.

  The professor set the gun back down on the desk. “Just like the device that I created, this one is also fired with The Minds. It's an old blues gun that has been repurposed so that it can’t fire when aimed at someone. The Blues use it for recruit training, so they don’t accidentally shoot someone. This was also created so that the blues didn’t accidentally shoot the wrong person, but always hit the target.” I’m surprised you don’t know any of this.” The professor looked up at Charles, thinking that he and Charles were about the same age.

  “What did you mean by the old minds? CelTec made The Minds.” Leon asked, perplexed at the usage.

  The professor moved around some more of the gadgets before looking towards the back of the room to see if anyone was coming. “Ahh, yes, that's most people's perception. The scientists who created the idea of The Minds were never originally a part of CelTec. They knew that The Minds weren't ready, and the version that they created was likely toxic, but CelTec was a dying company with several government contracts that were threatening to be extinguished. So they used their massive media influence to create a panic. In order to stifle that panic, the government greenlit CelTec to take over the scientists' lab. This forced them to work on project ground floor. I’m not even supposed to teach this, but why not? It's true,” the professor exclaimed. “The old minds that the scientists invented were meant to help humanity as a whole. When CelTec took over, they only looked for how to control it.”

  Leon's curiosity had been sparked, “So what happened to the scientists?

  The professor walked to the back of the room, closing the door before he walked over to Charles and Leon, sitting down in the seat next to them. “After the Ground Floor, people were outraged. They felt someone had to be held responsible. So they were executed.”

  “They killed them?” Charles asked.

  The professor vigorously shook his head, “Yes, all so they could pretend they were in control of the minds.”

  Leon sat there listening intently, “So, CelTec doesn’t have complete control over the Integrated.”

  “Well, they do control most of the disconnected who become integrated, but some slip through the cracks. They claim total control by capitalizing on people's desire for The Minds, claiming to be responsible for all the integration. They didn’t realize how The Minds would mutate,” the professor looked around nervously before he spotted a small red light in the corner of his room. His eyes glazed over as if he had seen death in person.

  Inside a small dark room, two men sat in their chairs nearly shoulder to shoulder, their eyes glued to the screens in front of them. The door violently swung open. “What is this. Why is this happening?" a woman standing in front of the open door shouted. The men swung around in their chairs frantically.

  “We're monitoring it, but we have been instructed not to interfere.” The men squinted their bloodshot eyes, trying to adjust to the bright light.

  The woman continued shouting, “Who told you that?” The woman pointed at Leon, “He needs to be on our side; why was this professor not repurposed?”

  “It was your orders, madam,” one of the men said sternly.

  “I didn’t say that….” Her words trail off as the lights shut off, enthralling them in darkness. There was an orange flash from a muffled gunshot. The bullet pierced through the woman's forehead in a bloody explosion. Her body fell limp to the ground. Two more muffled gunshots went off in loud thumps, the bullets nestling their way into the two other men.

  “Is that it?” A rustic voice said, crawling out of the darkness. “They were watching Leon.”

  The voices walked up closer to the screen, covered in shadows. “I’m not sure, we don't have long, gather what you can.”

  “How long do you think they have been watching him?” The voice asked.

  “A while,” the other replied. Leon stayed on the screen with Charles as they chatted with the professor.

  “Is he safe?” The voice asked as a loud whirling noise echoed from inside the room.

  “No, they have someone on him”.

  There was a long pause before the voice spoke again, “To kill him, for what purpose?

  “For if he gets too close. We must leave now, they can’t know we were here.” The voices faded into silence.