The Birth of Psychic Power

As Clarke Higilton stood in the ward, a look of mild shock crossing his features, the glass door was suddenly thrust open with an urgent knock.

Zamba burst into the room, his face etched with anxiety. Upon spotting Clarke, he grabbed him by the arm, urgency in his voice, "Master Clarke, we've been compromised by a cyber intrusion. Daniel's synthetic body has malfunctioned due to a hacking-induced short-circuit. We must hurry to the hospital's secure refuge room!"

Zamba's grip was unyielding, his pull insistent, leaving Clarke with no choice but to comply. As Clarke was hastily led away, he couldn't help but notice several metallic slits on the back of Zomba's neck that rhythmically opened and closed with each breath. Clarke realized Zamba too was augmented with bionic prosthetics.

This observation made Clarke silent. He knew he was responsible for the chaos but chose not to confess. Blaming an imaginary hacker seemed the most prudent course of action.

They soon reached the operating room they had left moments ago. As the door shut behind them, sealing with a hiss, the nurses inside exhaled in relief, their faces still pale with fear.

"Master Clarke!" a voice called out weakly.

In the corner of the room, Daniel lay, his expression a mix of pain and embarrassment. Clarke entered, his eyes scanning the room, now a temporary sanctuary filled with sophisticated medical equipment. He noticed Lamton's body, still on the table, a solemn reminder of the day's events.

"This operating room doubles as a refuge," a nurse explained, her voice trembling slightly. "It's designed like a Faraday cage to block any electronic intrusions. The walls and doors are reinforced with military-grade alloys, impervious to physical and cyber attacks. We'll be safe here until help arrives."

Clarke nodded, his expression stoic amidst the panic around him. He alone understood the truth behind the supposed cyber attack, it was merely a ripple of imaginary space energy that had escaped his control.

But now, as he surveyed his surroundings and the worried faces of those with him, Clarke realized this unintentional energy release might have more significant implications than he had initially thought.

Clarke Higilton pondered deeply, his thoughts swirling in the dimly lit refuge of the operating room. He realized that the energy, birthed from a maelstrom of human emotions like joy, anger, sadness, and love, had somehow transformed within the Synthetic Space. This energy, potent yet enigmatic, seemed to possess a destructive force against the electronic devices of their world.

"This energy... it's more than just a destructive force. There must be other aspects I've yet to uncover," Clarke mused to himself, his gaze lost in the shadows of the room.

He contemplated a suitable name for this mysterious force. "Soul energy," he finally decided, a term that captured its essence. "Or perhaps, 'psionic energy'."

After settling on a name, Clarke attempted to check his wrist-mounted optical brain chip, only to find it unresponsive, its circuitry fried. Zamba, standing nearby with a grave expression, commented, "It's futile. The hackers targeted Daniel's synthetic body first, then the electronics in your ward. Your optical brain chip couldn't escape their reach. Luckily, you don't have any prosthetics implanted, or you would've been harmed."

Clarke remained silent, absorbing Zamba's words. "Are hackers so prevalent in this world?" he inquired, seeking more understanding.

"Absolutely not!" interjected Daniel's, rising slightly despite his discomfort. His face contorted with anger, "My prosthetic body is a top-tier military model from DJI Kangpool, equipped with the T-MAX counterattack firewall. It's designed to thwart most hackers and retaliate with devastating force. Under normal circumstances, I could fend off even advanced hackers long enough to implement countermeasures..."

"But this time, my prosthetic short-circuited instantaneously, without any warning. This is beyond the capabilities of ordinary hackers. We're dealing with a top-tier hacker organization, and their motives are beyond my comprehension."

Clarke raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Daniel's analysis. The prevalence of bionic prosthetics in eighty percent of the population did indeed make them vulnerable to such cyber threats. In a world with such technological reliance, the emergence of hackers as a formidable force seemed almost inevitable.

As time ticked away, the door to the operating room eventually swung open, revealing a squad of heavily armed military-grade android soldiers. Their weapons were promptly stowed away as they respectfully bowed to Clarke.

"Your Excellency Clarke Higilton, we are the No. 3 Rapid Response Force of Cybernetic Network Technology, stationed in Terence City. We've been dispatched under the emergency rescue protocol to undertake this mission," announced the lead android in a tone devoid of emotion, yet imbued with a sense of urgency and formality.

"Your Excellency Clarke Higilton, we represent the No. 3 Rapid Response Force of the Cybernetic Network Technology, currently stationed in Terence City. As per our emergency rescue protocol, we have been deployed to execute this mission," reported the leading android, its voice devoid of emotion but clear in the still air of the room.

The android stood rigidly, the Cybernetic Network Technology Company's emblem emblazoned prominently on its chassis. Clarke Higilton's gaze lingered on the symbol, a flicker of recognition sparking in his eyes.

Could these be the androids from his family's fleet? He pondered, a mix of awe and pride washing over him. The Higilton family's technological prowess was indeed formidable.

"Identify the origin of this crisis," Clarke inquired, his tone laced with urgency.

It was at this moment, amidst the tension-filled atmosphere, that Zamba, Clarke's associate, interjected, "Have we detected any hacker activity?"

"We've found no evidence of a cyber intrusion," replied the android, its mechanical voice echoing slightly in the sterile environment. "The hospital premises are currently secure, and all immediate threats have been neutralized."

"Damn it!" Zamba cursed under his breath, frustration evident in his voice.

Clarke, however, raised a hand to halt any further queries. "If the hacker has left no trace, then they must have retreated. We'll report this incident to the family. That will suffice for now."

With a sense of resolve, Clarke led the way out of the operating room. Following the incident, Daniel was swiftly transported for specialized treatment, while the androids took up positions, filling in the defensive gap left in his absence.

Returning to the ward, Clarke Higilton was greeted with a scene of pristine order. Every damaged piece of equipment had been replaced, the room now a testament to the era's staggering efficiency. It was a silent, yet powerful display of the advanced state of bionic and robotic technology. Clarke couldn't help but marvel at the progress humanity had achieved, where manual labor seemed almost a concept of the past.

He then proceeded to remove the damaged optical brain chip, replacing it with a new one. The chip, much like a mobile device from his past life, was an essential tool, easily replaceable yet crucial for day-to-day functioning.

As Clarke calibrated the new chip, he pondered over the Higilton family's aversion to AI-enhanced bionic prosthetics. The recent event had made it clear: while these enhancements offered significant advantages in combat and daily activities, they were vulnerable to sophisticated cyber attacks, turning from an asset to a liability.

Yet, the widespread adoption of such technology spoke volumes. To the average citizen, the threat of hackers, especially elite ones capable of breaching high-level security, was a distant, almost negligible risk. In contrast, for corporations and those in power, cybersecurity was a domain of constant warfare, a battleground for digital supremacy.

A realization dawned upon Clarke Higilton. His past life as a hacker, albeit modest in achievements, had ingrained in him a deep-rooted instinct for this very field. In this new world, with systematic study and his innate psychic abilities, couldn't he ascend to the ranks of a top-tier hacker?

A determined glint appeared in Clarke's eyes, a reflection of the newfound path he envisaged, one where his skills and psychic powers would converge, opening a realm of untapped potential.