Rose plopped back down into her converted dentistry-type chair, which held trays of tools as well as multiple electronics and screens. It was her own custom fashioning, and appeared inspired by a design straight from The Matrix. Her apartment — lit mostly by neon, the good, classic kind with actual gasses pouring through glass tubes, not the plasticky 21st century LED shit that lacked oomph — felt contradictory.

  On the one hand, there was no denying its heavy tech aspect, with her chair the focal point, surrounded by dangling wires, oscilloscopes, and various equipment that looked both ancient and hypermodern. On the other, this was offset by a large (and seemingly random) collection of plants, as well as tools and products commonly associated with the care of these biological entities.

  Rose was part of a culture, or maybe a group — or perhaps an actual cult: Path to Sunrise. This group practiced the conservation of many plant species that had nearly gone extinct, actively using these plants to administer traditional and herbal medicine, as well as trying to retain natural beauty in the world. The Path was well-respected, even beloved, because humanity had grown skeptical of anything to do with science, since it was scientists who had made the conscious, unilateral decision to plunge the world into a permanent state of grey until the issues affecting climate could be controlled.

  “Yeah, no worries, I’ve changed the program so sector four is set to flower. The system says they should be ready for harvest for the festivities,” Rose said, her fingers tracing intricate movements in the air while her arms swayed gently, like a beautiful, complex tai chi. She was interfaced with the system in one of the Path’s grow houses at the church, remotely, the parameters reflecting on her lenses.

  “Thanks dear, I forgot to change them when I was there, and you know how I get with all this software rigmarole,” Althea said. There was genuine warmth in how the two spoke together.

  “Hah, you know I’m always here to help you.”

  “Alright dear, don’t stay up too late working on Maelcum’s projects okay? I know how you get when you spend nights thinking like a machine, you practically turn into one!” Althea laughed, though not without a tinge of earnestness, as she hung up.

  Althea was hinting at the more sinister, contradictory side of the Path, which had made them technologically advanced players. They had been among the first to take biomodification extremely seriously and were now one of its few leading authorities. What set them apart from the rest, however, is how their modifications — ‘mods’ — were programmed and used. The Path’s software and hardware mods were unlike anything available on the standard market. Tailored to those who lacked the mainstream, analytical skills needed to execute complex mental actions, the Path’s tools were made to perform commands through movement.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  In its early days, the Path to Sunrise had become disillusioned by how technological advancements were primarily routed to the sex and war industries, only trickling down the most benign elements to regular consumers and ensuring that no garage project was likely to disrupt the marketplace. When the new reality of biomodding set in, with early adopters willfully planting RFID chips in their skin to hold large volumes of highly sensitive and personal information, some of the founding members vowed to make sure this new tech arena was fully accessible to all, and that people would never again be governed by a handful of giant corporations.

  Her screens flickered simultaneously and the modulated voice of a teenage girl suddenly spoke. Well, maybe ‘spoke’ is inaccurate, as it actually emerged within her mind, no sound escaping into the physical, surrounding realm.

  “Are you my creator?” the voice asked.

  Rose was startled and physically upset. It’s one thing to see a flickering text appear on a DOS-like chat window, some punk trying to harken back to the days of The Matrix. It’s a very different feeling to realize that you’ve just been hacked, and that the hacker is sending messages directly into your mind.

  “Wh… Who are you? What do you want?” Rose asked aloud, unsure whether this would be picked up.

  The voice didn’t respond for a little while, but eventually said, “I’m sorry…” after which loud banging sounded at Rose’s front door.

  “What the fuck,” Rose muttered to herself, unable to rapidly process the complex emotions running through her. The banging recommenced. Someone was very eager for her to open the door.

  She peered through the peephole, discovering two men with augmented reality visors, but civilian clothes, standing in the hallway.

  “What do you want?!” she asked, strongly, through the closed door.

  “We need to talk!” responded one of the men, who suffered from severe facial twitching.

  “You seem really amped buddy, I’m not opening my door for junkie agros,” she answered.

  “Listen, you don’t want to be on the bad side of the people we work for,” the second man said, clearly the more patient of the two.

  “Alright, I’m calling the police, bye now,” she replied.

  “You think civil law will save you?”

  “If you think I’m another pathetic girl, you’re severely mistaken, shitheads. Look around you, there’s a few cameras pointed directly at you, and an apparatus pointed at you behind this door. You ever tried robbing a high-ranking Path member before?”

  The two men, unsure if she was bluffing, decided it wasn’t worth the trouble and set to leave.

  “Alright, alright, we’re going. We tried to do this the easy way, just remember that.”

  Rose gently turned her back on them and slid down against the door, trying to process the rollercoaster she’d experienced over the last five minutes.