I remember the first tattoo. Mom said it would be like getting a lot of little shots at once, and that she'd buy me a new backpack for school if I was brave. I don't think wetting your pants counts as being brave. Still got that backpack though.

Elementary school is such a trial-by-fire sort of thing. I remember hating every second that I had to be there. Mom knew it, too. So did dad. "Just get through it, next year you'll get to do more things," they would say. Distilled, it came down to the simple fact that I was miserably, soul-achingly bored. Schoolwork was easy. I'd learned to read early, knew basic math from helping mom in the kitchen, knew how animals had babies from helping on the farm, and knew how to handle money from going to the market with dad. Heck, I bid for and purchased my first pony when I was five!

My parents were from the generation that survived the Collapse, they knew how to do everything for themselves. Dad monitored his infofeed for the best prices on syncorn and synoats, cows and sheep, and any equipment that would make things easier around the farm. Mom found recipes online that were supposed to make protein pastes and vegetable mass taste like burgers and fries. I couldn't tell you if those claims were true or not. Never tasted a burger from pre-Collapse - I'm a New Gen kid.

I still remember the week before First Grade started. Mom and dad got the notice that I'd be attending PS 114, the local public school where I'd be assigned until I qualified for the next stage. I remember the stack of papers that mom filled out, scanning each with her dominant eye and filing the document away in her private Cloud storage. She always kept duplicate copies. I remember asking her what the paper forms were, when the packet arrived. I'd never seen so much paper wasted at once. Dad just laughed. "Because, there is someone, somewhere, responsible for filing away these copies as a precaution against a glitch in the Cloud. You wouldn't want that person to be out of a job, would you?" I accepted the explanation, because I knew they wouldn't allow an argument, but I still thought it was a superfluous job. The Cloud had never failed, and there were backups of backups of files. There was no piece of information that existed that couldn't be retrieved.

"Ed, she has to have her tracking circuit installed." Mom didn't sound thrilled.

"Ok, so make the appointment and get it over with."

"I'm still not sure that she's ready for it, though. Can't we hold her back a year?" This had my attention. Miss a year of school? Why on earth would mom want that?

"Mom, I want to go to school! I can do it!," hoping she'd hear the pleading in my voice.

She smiled at me. I love her smile, it makes everything right in my world. "Sweetheart, I know you can. There aren't many things you can't do. I'm just not sure you're ready to get your circuit, and you can't go to school without it."

I turned to my best buddy, the one who always backed me up. "Dad! I can handle it! Eliza got hers last year and she said it was no big deal!"

Dad looked at me, then at mom. "Well, there you go. Eliza did it, so it must be fine." Mom just snort-laughed.

I didn't know what else to say. So, I defaulted to facts I'd picked up from reading on the Service. "I'm old enough to go to school, and if I don't go, then the government might assume something is wrong with me and pull me out of PS 114 and send me to some awful Learning Center and I'll have to be in a class with kids that drool and don't wear pants and can't say their numbers or colors and don't know how to buy a pony at the Market and can't even READ!" I took a deep breath, hoping they'd follow my reasoning. They both just looked at me, and got very quiet.

"Bets, there is zero chance of the government ever assuming something is wrong with you. Don't ever say that, please." Uh oh, Dad was not happy.

Mom reached out and pulled my hand close to her. She just held it for a minute. "Bets, you are extremely special. You are going to be someone people will listen to and look up to someday. But you're my little girl, and I don't want you to deal with pain that you aren't physically ready for. And I still get to decide what you're ready for and what you're not ready for. Once you get your first circuit, that's out of my hands." Ok, so mom wants to protect me. I get that. And I love her for it. But I need school like I need air. School has information that I don't have, and I have craved it my whole short life.

"Mom, can we make the appointment and at least talk to the installer? Then if you still don't think I can handle it, I'll wait til next year." Agree with me, please, mom. I can handle it. I am fierce and strong.

She looked down at my hand. My tiny, pale hand that was completely unmarked. No circuits required for kids until they enter a school. And she sighed.

"Ok. I'll make the appointment. But if you aren't ok with what the installer tells you, or if I'm not ok with it, then we wait."

Turns out, the installer could consult with us the next day. We reserved two seats on the transport that made the local rounds, picking people up from the farms and dropping them in the town center for doctor appointments, shopping, school, or meetings. If I went to school, I'd have a permanent reservation on that transport. That made me happy. It felt like freedom.

We walked from the transport hub to Circuits, our installation center for all things tech. I instantly fell in love with the shiny upgrades on display in the main lobby. So many headsets, eyepieces, gloves, kinetic enhancers... I was dizzy from the thought of what I could have when I was older. Mom checked us in at the reception desk, and a very nice young man walked us back to a consultation room. It was a very plain room, I thought. Painted a very plain beige, with simple chairs and a small workstation. Nothing special. This was going to be easy.

Installer Geary came in, and smiled at mom and me. Handsome guy, I thought. Dark hair, cropped very short in the fashion of the government. Tall, but not intimidating. Friendly smile, and kind eyes. One of those eyes was outlined by the shiniest, most intricate piece of tech I'd ever seen. I ogled. I stared. I couldn't help myself.

He smiled at me. "Like the eyepiece, Miss? My own design. Multi-screen capacity,  unlimited bandwith, the works. I'm updated on everything."

I squeaked. "Yes. When can I have one like that?"

Mom sighed. "Not for a very long time, Bets. Now sit still." Oh, right. I was tapping my foot. Impatient. Needy.

Installer Geary smiled again. "We see a lot of excited ones around her age, she's fine." He logged into the workstation with a wave of his tattoo ink-covered hand. Glanced back at me. "Implanted recognition circuit in my palm. Makes work so much more efficient."

I want that.

Geary VR-scrolled through the information in my digital file, as it appeared on the large, thin screen. "Yes, so you're interested in your first circuit installation, your tracking circuit for school, right?" He looked at mom. "Yes, we are. I'd like some technical information on the current procedure, and my daughter would like to see the instrumentation." He nodded. "Perfectly reasonable. We've actually updated our protocols recently and have reduced rejections dramatically. Only one in the last 18 months. And that one, we would have pre-empted if the paperwork hadn't been falsified."

Wait, rejections? That happened? Could it happen to me?

Mom nodded in agreement. "That's good to know. I'm concerned about her delicate physical structure being damaged during the procedure. Would you have any advice?"

Geary looked at me. "May I see your right arm, Miss?" I reached out. He pushed my thin sleeve high above my elbow, turned my arm over and moved his tattooed hand over the surface of my skin. It felt... strange. Like I was being measured. Not sure if I like that. Geary flipped my arm again and ran his hand down my arm to my fingertips.

"Hm. Yes, I see why you would have concerns. She does have slightly below average bone measurements for her age, but she is a girl and they occasionally do run slightly more petite than we suggest for initiation of circuitry. But she does have quite dense muscle mass, surprisingly so. I wouldn't suspect it from looking at her. She's likely to be rather strong for her size as she ages. Her skin would be my main concern, because it is so perfectly smooth. We will use the finest micro-needles possible and the lightest components."

Mom considered this information. For the first time I could recall, I felt a bit overwhelmed. Was mom right, was I ready for this? I looked at her.

She was not smiling, but when I looked at her, a small lift crept into the corner of her lips. I would be so brave for her, I wanted so much to be as smart and as perfect as my brilliant mother. I wanted to go to school and have access to unlimited information. I could do this. I leaned toward her and whispered. "Say yes, please."

"All right, on one condition. If you see the instrumentation and don't want to back out, then we'll do it. You have to be brave my love." 

Geary smiled at me and patted my hand. "Let me get my assistant." He went back to the workstation, called up a command, and approved it. We waited.

The door opened and a cart rolled in. Maybe as tall as me and all buffed, smooth metal. No one pushing it. Must be like our feeding wagons, programmed to follow a specific pattern. It rolled up to Geary and stopped. "This is my installation assistant, Bert." He nodded at the cart.

"Bert? It's just a cart. Why does it have a name?" It had never occurred to me to name our feeding wagons.

A whirring noise, then. "Because Bert is so much more than just a cart. He's the reason we are one of the top installation centers in the nation." Bert's panels were sliding open, revealing all sorts of .. interesting.. things. Geary touched one side, and the little cart spun around toward me. It rolled toward my chair and stopped just in front of my once again tapping foot. Openings and reservoirs with swirling thick liquids and pressurized lines were everywhere. Geary leaned over from the side and began explaining.

"I'll program your measurements and the type of circuit you need into Bert. You'll place your arm in this space." He pointed to the smallest opening, then tapped the top of Bert, who split in half and swung open right in front of me. Geary indicated the area near where the opening had been. "Here are the injection needles. We'll have to rotate these out for an even finer set, I think. Your skin is too smooth to accept these." He pointed lower, toward Bert's innards. "These reservoirs hold the composite materials and base metals that will make up your circuit. We keep them in liquid form to facilitate the injections. There's a special inert carrier that we'll use for you, because your circuit needs to be very, very light." He tapped Bert's top again, bringing the halves back together. Tapped some more on the top of the cart. Whirring and moving parts could be heard. Geary finished tapping and looked at me. "I won't lie to you, it's going to hurt. We use very fine needles, but there will be millions of injections, over and over, until the materials have been applied within your skin. Circuitry patterns are very involved, and take time to complete. The material we're injecting will be pretty warm, and is uncomfortable to a lot of people the first time they get injected." Bert stopped whirring.

I looked at mom. Total calm. I was freaking out on the inside, but I couldn't show it. I had to do this for mom and dad. I had to be in school, now. I looked back at Geary.

"Ok."

He raised an eyebrow. "Ok? You realize, we can do this right now. All done and you'll have time to heal before school starts next week." Oh. I thought this was just a demonstration. Back to mom, who was still showing complete calm. "Your choice, Bets. Yes or no. Now or next year."

Pause.

"Now, please."

I remember the first injections. I remember the warm, viscous, liquid in my skin. I remember the pain, building and building, until I cried out. I remember wetting my pants when the needles nearly hit bone in the back of my arm. I remember removing my arm from Bert, and looking at a blurry pattern of black and gold that was now a permanent part of me. I remember cleaning up in the restroom, and checking out with a bright white bandage over my arm. Mom took me shopping for school supplies, and got the new backpack she said I could have. I remember waiting the next few days for my circuit to settle into its final place in my arm, and the lines to sharpen as the excess material got processed out of my body.

I don't remember the first tracking upload.