Autism

Clarke Higilton's expression subtly shifted as the cacophony of advertisements filled the air, a testament to the era's technological marvels. Despite their complexity, Clarke found himself surprisingly adept at understanding these futuristic terms.

The streets of Credence Province were abuzz with the promise of anti-aging treatments. Amidst the neon glow and the hum of advanced machinery, it was a world where medical technology had leapt boundaries, offering a temporary fountain of youth. Ordinary individuals could undergo treatment every twenty years, maintaining the vitality of their prime.

The concept of bionic people seemed straight out of a science fiction novel. In this era, where information technology had reached its zenith, the quaint semiconductors of the past were obsolete, replaced by the more advanced optical quantum devices. This shift had ushered in the age of quantum computers, sparking a social and industrial revolution. Intelligent AI, now the cheapest and most efficient workforce, had given birth to bionic humans, AIs endowed with real, tangible bodies.

Prosthetics, though seemingly mundane, had evolved beyond simple artificial limbs. They now boasted a plethora of additional functions, integrating seamlessly with the human body.

This world was familiar yet alien to Clarke. His family, the Higiltons, had a longstanding tradition in the field of bionics. However, they adhered to a strict rule: only bionic engineering prostheses were permissible, shunning any AI-operated intelligent prosthetics, even those developed by their own company.

But what truly astonished Clarke were the concepts of genetic optimization and cyber martial arts. Genetic optimization, a process that enhanced human genes, indicated a level of genetic research far surpassing anything from his previous life. He recalled a controversial incident where a rogue scientist had genetically modified two infants to resist HIV, only to face global condemnation and imprisonment. The fear had been that such tampering could irrevocably alter the human gene pool. Yet, here in this world, gene optimization was not only possible but was being advertised publicly, a clear sign of its maturity and acceptance.

Clarke's understanding of these terms came easily, but 'cyber martial arts' remained a mystery. He hypothesized it to be an amalgamation of prosthetic and genetic technologies.

Lost in thought, Clarke raised his left hand, revealing a thin, soft crystal film adhered to the inside of his wrist. It displayed the date and time: 10:02, November 10, 2319. As he focused, a holographic screen with anti-counterfeiting marks emerged:

[Citizen Number: TLxxxx22981028]

[Name: Clarke Higilton]

[Gender: Male]

[Occupation: Businessman]

[Date of Birth: 2298.10.28 (21 years old)]

[Social credit points: 100 (elementary citizen)]

[Place of residence: No. 301, Central Avenue, Tarence City, Credence Province, ADH District, gated community (currently lives at No. 608, Cyrus Road, Tarence City, Credence Province, ADH District]

The bustling city of Credence, with its blend of advanced technology and human culture, was a canvas of wonder and complexity. Clarke Higilton, a man of the future yet anchored by the past, found himself at the heart of this ever-evolving world.

In the heart of Credence Province, Clarke Higilton stood, his breath hitching slightly as realization dawned upon him. He was holding an optical quantum computer, a marvel of the age, more commonly known as an 'optical brain.'

This film chip, Clarke deduced, served as the personal mobile device of this futuristic world, akin to the smartphones of yesteryears but far more advanced and versatile. It was the epitome of portability and computational speed, revolutionizing the concept of personal devices.

The screen materialized before him, crafted by the optical brain's femtosecond laser. It felt tangible under his fingertips, reminiscent of the texture of sandpaper. This technology was a marvel of physical holographic imaging, utilizing millions of nanometer-level laser generators. These lasers focused on specific points in the air, ionizing the molecules to create a vivid, touchable three-dimensional image. It was a dance of light and plasma, brought to life with each small detonation of the laser.

Experimentally, Clarke swiped his hand across the holographic screen that appeared on his wrist. It responded seamlessly, whether he used mental commands or physical interaction. The screen's size was adjustable, ranging from a compact three inches to an expansive fifteen inches.

These optical brains, much like the smartphones of the past, were equipped with a myriad of software and functionalities, offering convenience that surpassed traditional mobile phones.

Driven by curiosity, Clarke commanded the optical brain to search for 'cyber martial arts.' Information flooded in, a torrent of recruitment ads from various martial arts clubs, accompanied by a stream of bizarre comments underneath.

[Can I also train sphincter muscles?]

[Thank you, my child loves it, I'll buy two more classes.]

[Personally tested, effective even on sensitive skin~]

As he sifted through this deluge of information, Clarke sought something more substantial, something genuinely enlightening. But then, a sudden pain pierced his brain, feeling as if something was burrowing deep within, extracting something unknown.

"Is this what it feels like?" Clarke muttered, his expression clouding with concern.

This pain, he recalled from his host's memories, was a recurrent, inexplicable headache that had plagued him since gaining these memories. It struck without warning or pattern, sometimes every few days, other times lying dormant for months. Strangely, it seemed to coincide with moments when the original host's autism symptoms mildly improved. Neither modern diagnostics nor ancient remedies could pinpoint its cause.

It had been over three months since the last episode. Clarke hadn't anticipated its return so soon. The sensation of extraction grew more intense, bringing with it a wave of dizziness that forced him to recline on the bed.

"If the ailments of this body persist, does that mean I, too, will suffer from autism?" Clarke pondered, anxiety creeping into his thoughts. Despite the worry gnawing at him, exhaustion took over, and he soon drifted into a troubled sleep.

Boom!

Through the veil of his eyelids, Clarke Higilton perceived a dance of light and shadow, an ethereal ballet of luminescence playing across his vision. Slowly, he opened his eyes, awakening to an enigmatic scene.

He lay in a room shrouded in darkness, the only illumination coming from the neon lights outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. Their glow flickered like spectral flames, casting an otherworldly aura over the space.

"Is it evening already?" Clarke murmured, his voice barely a whisper in the quiet room. Lying on his side, his gaze met the window, and he realized he had forgotten to draw the curtains before sleep had claimed him.

He tried to rise, but his body only managed only a feeble twitch. It felt as though an unseen force was pressing him into the mattress.

As his mind grew clearer, Clarke felt a surge of inexplicable anxiety. It was as if something, hidden in the shadows just beyond his sight, was creeping closer...

The window muffled the world outside, leaving Clarke with only the sound of his own accelerated heartbeat and laboured breaths. The sensation of an unseen presence drawing nearer grew stronger, more tangible.

"Who's there? Who's behind me?" Panic tinged Clarke's thoughts.

He struggled to turn, to face whatever lurked in the darkness, but his body refused to cooperate. If he could see in the dim light, he would notice the veins in his body standing out, his form trembling with the effort.

Click...

Suddenly, a sharp sound echoed behind him, reminiscent of something under pressure fracturing.

The palpitations in his heart intensified.

Gritting his teeth, Clarke mustered all his strength, feeling his right hand gradually responding, breaking free from the invisible restraint.

Encouraged, he exerted more force.

"Ah!" With a roar, Clarke's right arm shot up, tracing an arc through the air, striking against the bed.

Bang!

With a muffled thud, he flipped onto his back.

"Hoo! Hoo!" Clarke gasped for air, his eyes snapping open, sweat beading on his forehead. The oppressive feeling vanished, leaving his body feeling strangely light.

"What just happened? Was that... a ghost?" Clarke muttered, a shiver running down his spine.

He glanced fearfully to the other side of the bed, only to freeze in terror. The room, dimly lit, harboured a chilling sight. Countless dark fissures, like a spider's web, hung suspended in the air. Within these cracks lurked an ominous, lifeless blackness, slowly seeping into the surroundings.

Click...

Another sharp crack resonated. Before Clarke could fully grasp the horror of the situation, the space before him fractured again. The cracks interlaced, forming a terrifying network, and then, abruptly...

Collapsed!