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You worked your ass off to earn a scholarship to Stanford only to discover that every class assumes you have the same top-of-the-line brain implants as all of your classmates. But your classmates were augmented at birth by their wealthy families, and your scholarship and student loans won't cover any of it.

You're failing your classes, on the edge of losing your scholarships, and willing to try anything…even some back alley, blackmarket wetware…

As soon as wake, completely alone, from the light brain surgery just conducted on you, you make three terrifying discoveries:

  • The one classmate who treated you with kindness, the one you’ve been pointlessly crushing on all semester, just said yes to your weeks-old date invitation for tonight.
  • That professor who's been gunning for you from day one just announced a last minute, last chance extra credit presentation—today only, before the whole class.
  • And the new little voice in your head, the auditory interface for the highly experimental wetware growing tendrils throughout your brain, is saying…what? What is it saying? What is that language? Basque…Uzbek?

You’ve got one day to fix your grades, your love life, and your brain. “*Haluaisitko lisää itseluottamusta?*” the little voice in your head asks unhelpfully.