Author's Note: Ok, so, if any of you have read my other stories, you know I have a problem with just stopping. This is going to be my attempt at a full blown story. I really have no idea what to make as a title so please, serious help with title options would be grateful. You might have to read a couple chapters before getting any sort of idea of what this story is going to be about. Oh, and by the way, this story is in a very fragile state of development, so aspects of the story may change during the read, so if you're confused, just assume that it was changed and keep going, or go back and look for changes. Either way, have fun reading and I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 1

(Physics)

Hi everyone. Welcome to the year 2028. My name is Aiden and I have cancer.

Ok, sorry. I didn't mean to throw you off like that, I swear. It's really not that serious. It's just a brain tumor. These days, when you catch it early, which we did, its really easy to remove… so they've told me. Sorry, but when people are messing with my brain, I'm a little iffy. Do you blame me? What if I come out drooling and my mom has to go back to feeding me with a spoon and baby food? Ok, just having fun. It's the year 2028; brain surgery is like joint replacement. Major surgery, but little risk involved.

Well, before we get into that, a little background as to why I'm in this shit situation. I mean, 17 and I have cancer? That's just a little messed up. Anyway, you see, around the year 2023, they invented a series of chips, circuits, and electrodes that could be implanted in your brain, placed in your skull but outside the brain, or throughout the body that allowed people to talk via radio signals, and no, there are no commercials on that bandwidth. IT also led to a host of other uses for the technology. As people have wanted to do since they were invented, today's modern computers are in your head and yes, if your computer crashes, its guaranteed to give you one mother of a headache. But no more keyboards, and with that no more carpel tunnel, well, unless you got it some other way…? No more cell phones, email is displayed directly to your visual cortex. The electrodes and receptors in the rest of your body are like relay centers that collect information on your body and relay it back to the main processor. Say, you have cancer for example. A cheery little voice message is left in your body mail saying that you have cancer.

So, most major achievement of the twenty first century aside, back to me. I'm going camping! My father says that its nice to get away from technology, although its all in our heads… literally. Despite being in a tent in the middle of nowhere with bugs biting every exposed, and sometimes unexposed, piece of skin, I like going. That's because she goes. Her name is Michelle and I love her. Ok, you're thinking "He's only seventeen, how can he know what love is?" Well, we have been going out since the beginning of sophomore year of high school. And no, it is not physical. I respect her, you have something against that?

Anyway, we have been friends since the start of middle school, along with James and Bill. Our four families go on the camping trip every fall around the middle of October for a weekend. It's a weekend that I can spend with her out where it is peaceful. She doesn't like it much, I pretend not to, but I love the time together, and I know that's the only reason she goes along with her family still. She isn't exactly normal. She isn't preppy, she isn't emo, she doesn't wear T-shirts and jeans, well, sometimes jeans, and she sure as hell isn't gothic. She listens to heavy metal but doesn't really dress it, except for the black and red clothing she wears. I'm sorry, but it's just dead sexy when she wears a loose black tie, red button up shirt and short black skirt, my favorite outfit that she wears once or twice a month, because she has a couple of each of those. Conveniently, today, Friday, she is wearing just that.

"Shit, shit shit SHIT!" I screamed at nobody in particular during lunch. "I have to write a six page report in physics class!" I pulled out a turkey sandwich and took a big bite.

"What do you write six pages on for physics?" James asked from across the table. He is still in chemistry.

"I don't even know, that's one of my many problems. I gotta find someone in my class to figure out what to actually do. I need to stop falling asleep in that class, it really would help to be awake sometimes.

"I can tell you after school. I don't get that project until eighth period. I'll actually be awake." Michelle said next to me. I grabbed her hand.

"What would I do without you?" I asked, massaging her palm.

"Well, you know, I have the same class as her, and I am one of your best friends, and I am just short of a genius. Oh, wait, I'm a guy." Bill smirked from across the table.

"Yes, but you AREN'T a genius, now are you. You wouldn't be in 11th grade physics if you were."

"Well, I really don't feel like going to college right now, plus, what would life be like without the constant temptation to laugh at your problems?"

"WELL, maybe you should stop sending me retarded pictures in class and I'll think more of you. I really don't need to see some cat with a really random, ok, funny, caption while attempting calculus. Chuckling at a complex equation really doesn't put me at good odds with my teacher."

"You know Aiden, it is possible not to read mail until you get in the halls."

"But that would defeat the purpose of high tech note passing. Come on, you are supposed to have sub-genius intelligence. And no James, I won't give you my chem. notes." I never looked away from Bill when I said it.

"Maybe if you actually tried, you wouldn't still be in chem. and you would be in physics with the rest of us." Michelle fiddled with her tie, loosening it a bit, and eating a bit more of her pasta salad.

"But I just don't do that, plus, trying would do jack squat, I didn't take algebra I in middle school, you, one of those prerequisite things. So can I PLEASE have someone's chem. notes so that I can at least pass?

"Maybe. I probably won't remember. I'm headed to the doctors office. It is really just an informational session, warning us about the surgery giving alternate options, other shit like that. Basically a waste of an afternoon. I'm getting surgery, it is major, it's my brain, just do it so if I have to drool for the rest of my life, I can get the rest of my life over with." I looked down at my half eaten sandwich and sighed.

"Oh stop playing the pity game, we all know that you're going to come out of this perfectly fine. Plus, how do you even know it's going to be surgery. Who knows what else they can do. Some doctor will probably touch a stick to your head and say abra kadabra and it will all be fine. Or, maybe the tumor will increase your common sense, we all know you need some." Sometimes I wonder where Bill can pull all this sarcasm from.

The warning bell sounds in our heads meaning we have five minutes to get to our next class. Yay.