O.A.Ts

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May cause injury or death.

The words hung over Will's head as he read the terms and conditions on his tablet. The thin plastic screen felt slick as his palms began to sweat.

He shuddered and lowered the slate tablet. The dimly lit exam hall was filled with nervous, hushed conversations, and it was with a start that he realized he was not alone in the hall anymore. Tablets flashed in the dim setting as the students made their way past rows of jet-black VR pods. Dressed in identical navy-blue uniforms, they headed for the squat box-like simulation tanks that were lined neatly where their desks and chairs used to be. Seven feet long and laid flat on the ground, the machines came about waist-high and could easily fit any of the present seventeen-year-olds.

The floor vibrated as they powered on, and LED lights blinked on its surface as the devices booted up. Will had already found his. The roll number was 27351, and it was displayed prominently on the device's head in vivid red. The number flashed with slow, ponderous regularity; sure its user would come to it. Patient, silent, and waiting. Ominous.

Will brushed off a lock of dark hair that fell over his eyes and focused on the waiver once again.

May cause injury or death.

Would the same number be used to identify him if he failed to climb out of this coffin?

The document, though filled with legalese and lawyer jargon, made one thing abundantly clear: he wasn't supposed to be anywhere near this machine.

The Overall Aptitude Test was taken by tens of thousands of high schoolers every year, but there were some serious conditions and medical requirements that had to be met—conditions which he most certainly didn't meet.

May cause injury or death.

His brown eyes were transfixed on those five words. The school formals felt stifling over his CAD suit, despite the air-conditioned room.

Hair fell over his eyes again, and he brushed it off. The cut was a little lopsided, compliments of his sister. They had no fancy droid to play hairdresser, so it was she who volunteered. Bless her heart; she was so enthusiastic about it too. It was an important day, and he had to be presentable.

He had a pleasant enough face - hazel eyes, a straight nose, and a slender jawline. He would say that he was already presentable enough; but no, he had to dress up. Cufflinks, lapel pin, and 'new' dress shoes. The navy blue dress suit was something that they got second-hand, and he had gotten pretty good mileage out of it. The gilded accessories were faker than paper money, but the CAD suit he had underneath the uniform was a whole other matter. It was what interfaced with the Simulation machine, and the scholarship didn't cover it. His mom had to work overtime and pulled so many double shifts that the hospital put her on notice.

He didn't think it was fully paid yet. Hopefully, they could return it and get some of their credits back. The loans were piling up high with his sister's school fees and his medical bills. The scholarship was the only thing that was keeping them barely afloat.

He fished out a locket hung around his neck. The old silver chain jingled as he pulled, and out came a circular picture holder. In a world of sims and slate vids, this was practically ancient. He ran his fingers across its smooth surface and found its clasp. With a small click, he popped it open and gazed at the smiling faces of his mother and sister. Smiles from a better place, at a better time.

His story was not uncommon in the undercity. Many undercity factory kids like him wanted to move up the tower, but very few made it as far as he did. The scholarship selection process was ruthless, and its elimination rate even more fierce. All the same, he had made it to the very end despite his disability. This was his final year, and this exam could be his last. Graduation would mean a permanent place up the tower, and he could bring his family along with him. His mom had already made her contributions, and with him ascending, they could bring along a minor - his sister. With her enrolled in a good school here and graduating herself, they could say they had truly made it, risen up and beyond. A stable job, good food, and a comfortable life.

For all that, there was only one thing that was required: a final hurdle. He just had to make it through today. He had prepared for this for three years ever since he got his scholarship. At this point, the exam would be a cakewalk, except for this final obstacle...

May cause injury or death.

Was he being irrational? The test had been taken by students every year, and there was never any news of anyone dying.

Thousands of students from the lower slum district like him had taken these exams, and there were no problems then. Who hasn't lied about their age or fudged their sim hours here and there? Who hasn't been a little less than forthright about their medical history?

He was sure that there were people in this very room that suffered the same condition he had, and they too would pass just fine. So why would it be any different for him?

Will had already known the odds and calculated the risks and come to terms with it. And despite all the calculus and mental preparedness; knowing that there wasn't a single iota of chance that he would be caught when so many others hadn't, there was always that lingering sense of doubt. The nagging question of if... What if...

"William!"

He yelped in surprise. "Son of a—" The curse fell short at the brown-haired boy in front of him. The freckled idiot didn't seem to notice his anger and beamed at him without a care.

"Remy," Will finished with a scowl. The hall became unusually quiet at his sudden outburst as several students turned towards the two of them. Eyebrows twitching, he gave them polite nods until they went back to their tasks; a few of them shook their heads.

"Dammit, Remy," he hissed. "Do you realize we are in an exam?"

"Yeah," said Remy with his arms spread wide. "Isn't it great?"

"Great?" He blinked in surprise. Remy Soto excited for exams? Well, this was a first.

He gave the reedy boy a once-over. The brunet had his hair tied up in his usual man bun, but he had traded his school formals for a garish red single-breasted jacket and horrible lime green pants. The ill-fitting ensemble clashed horribly. If fashion was a crime, then this would have been a double homicide. Was this his way to show his enthusiasm for the coming test?

"What's so great about the exam?" Will asked, puzzled.

"Well, duh," said Remy, pointing at the simulation pod. "Full-body VR. This is the first time we'll be in one, baby!"

Will's face fell at the reminder. "Oh yeah... that."

Remy raised an eyebrow. "I expected a little bit more enthusiasm."

"Like you?" asked Will.

"Of course."

"This is still an exam, Remy," Will deadpanned. "It should be illegal to be this happy."

Remy chuckled. "So dour."

"Not dour. Stoic," said Will.

Remy shook his head. "Dour and pedantic."

"Don't forget handsome," said Will, looking at the tablet once more.

Remy leaned in to have a look. "What are you reading?"

Will let out a breath and handed over the tablet. Remy tapped the screen. "Terms and conditions?" he looked quizzical. "What? Who reads this stuff?"

Will sighed and pointed out. "Start from the third line in subsection 7."

Remy shrugged. "Medical condition exclusion. The Overall Aptitude Test (OATs)... competitive exam... requires a high level of physical and mental fitness," he skimmed through the first few paragraphs until he reached the indicated section.

"The waiver recognizes that individuals with the medical condition of late-stage APS or Stone Man Syndrome..."

Will unconsciously touched his right knee. His fingers traveled down his shin and found...

"... a rare genetic disorder that causes the progressive transformation of muscles, tendons, and ligaments into bone tissue, ultimately leading to a loss of mobility and flexibility."

Stone. Muscles turned to stone and flesh to bone. The misshapen lump that was his right leg or what was left of it was attached to cold, hard steel. The cold metal jolted him awake, and he let go of his leg. The foot landed on the floor with a metallic clang.

"Therefore, to ensure the safety and well-being of all candidates, and to maintain the integrity and fairness of the OATs, individuals in the later stages of APS are prohibited from taking the OATs.

"Late-stage participants who decide to take the OATs do so at their own risk and waive any right to claim against the examiners or their affiliates, officers, directors, employees, and agents for any seizures, injuries, or other health issues that may arise from taking the OATs." Remy grimaced but continued to read.

"Additionally, late-stage participants who choose to take the OATs and experience seizures, injuries, or other health issues as a result, will be disbarred from participating in the test in the future." Remy scoffed and waved his arms in mock fright. "Ooh, scary!"

Will sighed with his back to the simulation pod and drifted down to the floor, not caring about his dress suit. The floor was cold, but he ignored it as he rested his head against the VR pod.

Remy chuckled, bent low, and whispered, "Just meaningless upper tower bullshit. You are not taking this seriously, are you?"

"Murphy's Law is inevitable, Rem," Will grimaced as he patted his defunct leg. "Prepare for the worst."

"And hope for the best...," said Remy. "You always forget the first part."

Will craned his neck to quickly scan the surroundings and made sure that no one was watching before retorting, "Now who's being pedantic?"

Everyone around them were busy with their own tasks, and the VR pods had effectively obscured Will from view. He sat back down and rolled up his right trouser leg while Remy shifted slightly to cover him better.

Beneath the cheap polyester suit pants was his prosthetic leg. The metal limb was constructed with a steel carbon fiber composite, making it both lightweight and flexible. He flexed his ankles experimentally, and the limb complied flawlessly. The dull grey, artificial limb was almost a part of him now, and controlling it was almost second nature.

Will ran his hands over the leg and performed a quick inspection of the joints and external sensors. The metal limb had been extensively modified for his personal use, and near the top of the prosthetic, where it attached to his calcified limb, was a square window. He pressed down firmly on it, and it slid to the side, revealing the skin beneath.

The skin was bone white. Will used one finger to press down on it. It was hard and unyielding with no sensation. It was mineralized to the point of being a calcified rock. Even the artificial limb showed more life than this piece of dead flesh.

"How is it?" asked Remy from the side.

"Same old," Will replied.

Will rummaged around in his pocket and brought out a sealed Medi-vial. The glass tube was filled with a shimmering yellow liquid: a morphogenetic protein inhibitor. He broke the seal to the micro-injector and brought it to the exposed calcified region.

"My entire scholarship hinges on my recovery," he braced himself. The next few seconds would not be pleasant.

He gritted his teeth and pressed down on the release button. There was a sharp hiss, and the Medi-vial emptied the pressurized inhibitor into his leg.

It started slow, then fanned into a raging flame. His muscles clenched as his body was purged. The flesh that had been dead until now came alive as it burned. "Son of a-" he cursed through clenched teeth. "I'm supposed to be in remission by now."

Remy knelt down beside him and squeezed his shoulder. "You will be."

The burning continued, and Will held on, shaking. The vial was near its end. He had to make sure it was fully emptied. He couldn't afford to waste any of it, not a single drop.

Remy whistled. "Goddamn. That's a hundred creds a bottle."

Will was burning money with each vial. The inhibitor was tailored to him and targeted his protein chains responsible for his psion channels going haywire. Since it was custom-made, the cost ballooned out of proportion. It was a good thing that he wasn't paying for any of it. The scholarship took care of that. Hopefully, they would not learn about the state of his disability just yet.

The shaking soon died down, and Will gathered himself as he rested his head against the pod. He clenched the empty Medi-vial, unwilling to let go, and let out a sigh. "I'll admit it. I am a little worried."

Remy took a seat right beside him on the floor. "Only you can feel the state of your channels. And this is the final year. Few more months and we get our degree. So…" Remy slapped him on the shoulder. "Relax. Unless you say anything, no one is gonna know."

"But I'll know," said Will.

Remy waved it off. "This ain't philosophy class, Will. They won’t know shit when you don't say shit. It’s that simple. It’s going to be fine."

Will snorted. "Why don't I believe you?"

"Hey, life is too short for worrying."

Will shook his head. That was Remy, alright. He had the remarkable ability to ignore anything he didn’t like.

It was surprising how they managed to stay friends with how different they were. Will was all about the plans and executing them with regimented efficiency. The linear and clear goals were comforting. Knowing exactly where you have to go and what you have to do filled him with a sense of security. Because anything that can go wrong will go wrong. It is better to be safe first.

To Remy, however, such a restrictive life was stifling and damning as death itself. A dreamer and an optimist, he always followed his whims. Spontaneity to the point of stupidity. The guy was just about ready to try anything if it was wild enough. You didn't need a red jacket and green pants to figure that out.

"You know I'm right," said Remy. "I mean, look at us here at last, end of the year and graduating. It's time to move up, move to better things, baby. It's the good life from now on."

Will smiled. "All caviar and vacation sims, eh?"

"You better believe it."

Will reached for the locket around his neck. It was warm in his palm. "No more factory smoke and random gunshots. That would be something."

"I got it made." Remy leaned back and stretched. "Got a lot of offers for a coder-grower, but with a Psypher diploma under my belt, sky's the limit. I'll move up the tower."

Will smiled. "I would just be satisfied paying off my debt. Repay the loans, move my sister up here, and set her up in a good school. Thinking about tower construction. They won't stop building new floors anytime soon. The pay will be good."

Remy chuckled and nudged him with his shoulder. "Not bad for a couple of slum kids, eh?" He clapped his hands, and Will looked at him annoyed.

"This calls for a celebration," said Remy.

"Celebration?"

"Yup." Remy motioned to his new dress suit. "I've already started."

"What?" Confused, Will reevaluated the red and green outfit. "That's right. You still haven't explained the clown suit."

"Clown suit?" Remy looked offended. "I went through a lot to score this."

"Looks like you pulled this straight out of the scrap shop."

Remy opened and closed his mouth. "I did. But that is not the point! I wore this to celebrate Awakening Day."

"Oh, right," said Will after a pause. Awakening Day was a coming of age ceremony. The ritual day shifted year to year, but it is usually celebrated around the time of the exams. In fact, the final exam and the rite of passage had historical significance attached to each other.

The students took full advantage of that as an excuse to start partying. After all, it was a moral imperative that they honor tradition, right? But Remy's reason for celebration was still a little premature.

"You are early. Awakening Day is still a week away," said Will.

"No reason Awakening Day cannot turn into Awakening Week. I'm just following tradition. This used to be a week... no, a month-long affair."

Will laughed at the blatant bullshittery. "Sure, it is."

"Look up the scriptures," said Remy. "The ritual lasts from Awakening Day till the Returning Day. Don't take it up with me, take up with the temple." He pointed towards the ceiling.

Will followed his finger, amused. A soft chime echoed around the room. Remy blinked in surprise and stared up too.

"Attention all students." A smooth feminine voice spoke through the speakers. "Your exam starts in fifteen minutes. Please stand by your assigned tanks. Thank you."

The slow hum of the machines resonated through Will. Even the floor vibrated as it thrummed with the VR pods.

"Booyah, let's go," Remy clapped his hands again. Still seated, he spread his arms out wide and stretched. Will let out a breath and touched the VR pod. It vibrated under his palm. Its startup sequence was near its end.

There were sounds of footsteps and shuffling of feet as the examinees hurried. Amongst all that chaos, there was something that cut through all the noise. The distinct clack of a pair of high heels that was steadily coming closer, until it was right on top of them.

Remy and Will turned and came face to face with a pair of charcoal slingbacks.

"And what, may I ask," demanded an authoritative voice, sharper than a monomolecular blade. "Is going on here?"