DOCUMENT B/031-1
BIOPSION COGNITIVE SYSTEMS, INC.
Q-SERIES PEDIATRIC COGNITIVE INTEGRATION TRIAL
MID-STUDY IRREGULARITIES BRIEF
Report Date: June 19th, 2131
Investigator: Joria Heme, PhD — Clinical Neuropsychology
Distribution: IROC Level 2 (Confidential)
Document ID: QP-B/061-2R
BIOPSION LEGAL NOTICE (MANDATORY)
This report is classified under DAP-7.3 High-Seal Protocol.
Its contents may not be cited, disclosed, or referenced in litigation, regulatory review, or public proceedings.
Possession of this document requires IROC Level 2 authorization.
SUBJECT: Cognitive Overload & Executive Interference Patterns
Cohort B subjects exhibit escalating irregularities indicating loss of effective cognitive integration under sustained exposure conditions.
Concurrent Directive EmergenceSubjects report the simultaneous presence of multiple internally generated action directives during decision-making tasks. Directives are experienced as self-originating but incompatible, resulting in impaired prioritization and suppression.
Rapid Cognitive SaturationRoutine cognitive demands precipitate disproportionate mental overload. Observed effects include delayed response initiation, incomplete motor planning, and prolonged decisional latency.
Stress-Amplified Executive DegradationTime pressure or environmental demand triggers acute stress responses accompanied by marked reduction in executive function. Physiological indicators show increased autonomic activation. Duration and recovery time increase across repeated episodes.
Cognitive–Somatic DecouplingDuring high-load periods, subjects report diminished bodily awareness and delayed physical response despite preserved motor capacity. Behavioral observation confirms slowed reaction inconsistent with baseline reflex profiles.
Action Commitment FailureSubjects demonstrate intact recognition of required action but impaired ability to select or execute a definitive response. Self-reports frequently reference internal crowding, directional conflict, or inability to resolve competing impulses.
ASSESSMENT
The observed pattern is inconsistent with expected enhancement-related side effects or transitional adaptation phenomena.
Findings indicate progressive internal signal interference exceeding current containment assumptions, with downstream effects on stress regulation and action execution.
Absent intervention, continued exposure is expected to increase frequency and severity of observed episodes under real-world conditions.
RECOMMENDATION
Escalation to IROC Level 3 advised.
Pending review, consideration should be given to exposure limitation, load reduction, and reassessment of integration thresholds to preserve subject stability and trial integrity.
— Filed: 19-06-2131
— End Brief
Thursday, Challenge Four, Day 3
Variable rewards. Could complete Challenge Four right now. Reward calculated only on acquiring the swimming skill? Or I could stay and grind out a thousand skills, titles, traits (how to acquire those, who knows), and when I complete the challenge, my reward will be based on my accumulated achievements.
Checked the Solo leaderboard for challenge four. World record is currently 1923. Second is 1443. Arbitrary points assigned based on how much you grow in challenge four? Who knows.
Seems simple. Variable rewards. But it’s not. Imagine a world where children are raised to be martial elites. They rank kids, send them into the fourth challenge together, have them progress through manuals of martial techniques, and learn for… years. Fighting each other. When they finally step into Challenge Five, they will be years ahead in experience and skill compared to some guy in a new world who just completes a few basic skills.
Rewards further magnify the power gap.
Previous levels were rather linear. Sure, I got a ton of rares, which I plan to take full advantage of, but me as an individual—if you just look at me, my stats, my skills, my achievements—I’m not that different from someone who just did mediocre in the three challenges before.
Seems like after this level, that won’t be true. This is the level where you plot your future. Will you be an elite immortal or some mediocre washout that eventually gets ground up by the union?
I’m going to excel. The only question is how to achieve it, and what I’m willing to pay for it.
Some basic questions to resolve. Then I’ll need a real plan. This challenge is going to force choices that stick. Choices I don’t get to redo. Trying to level everything, to do everything, isn’t possible, and probably just wastes what this is meant to give.
So I’ve got to decide what I want to be. That heavy feeling I’ve had since the trial—thought I’d finally shaken it—is back again. Hardly seems fair to make kids lock in their future this early.
That’s nuts, as Noah would say. At least they don’t have to do it alone.
Business was booming.
Rem stood at the front counter of the Absolute Retort, close enough to feel the warmth from the workroom curtain behind it. Mistress Veyra Kessel was already counting through the vials he’d unpacked, lining them up in neat rows. Glass clicked against wood in quick, practiced motions.
Behind him, a short line had formed. Close enough that he could feel when someone shifted their weight. An assistant at the left counter was filling small orders, sliding stoppered bottles across without looking up. Another worked the opposite side, calling quantities into a ledger while a customer nodded and winced at the total.
“Twenty-four level three Health,” Veyra said. “Twelve Restorations.”
She paused, lifting one vial and turning it slightly. The liquid moved slower than the rest, darker, heavier.
“And six Recovery.”
“Correct,” Rem said.
He leaned back just enough to take the pressure off his feet. The stone shelf behind him was cool through his shirt. The smell of alcohol and crushed leaves hung thick in the air, layered with something sharp and metallic from the back.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The shop felt busy without feeling chaotic. People moved with purpose. Nothing lingered.
Veyra finally looked up.
“That’s a lot,” she said. “You were here two days ago. Where are you finding the time to brew this?”
“Challenge Four,” Rem said. “Eighteen hours inside. One hour outside.”
He didn’t expand. He didn’t need to.
Someone behind him went quiet.
Veyra studied him for a beat, then tapped the ledger closed.
“So you’re using the challenge to build wealth,” she said. “Smart. I can take all of this. As much as you bring.”
She gathered the vials and passed them to an assistant, who packed them into a crate without comment. Rem pulled up his interface. The credit transfer chimed—thirty-three credits added.
Good.
Temporary.
He reached into his satchel again. This time he didn’t empty it.
Just one vial.
He set it on the counter and took his hand away.
“What do you know about this?”
Veyra’s attention snapped to it. She leaned forward, spectacles catching the light, and picked it up carefully. Turned it once. Twice.
No maker’s mark.
Her fingers tightened.
“Where did you get this?”
“Challenge Three.”
She brought it closer to her face. The shop noise thinned—not stopped, just dulled, like people had learned when not to interrupt.
“A system drop,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Are you selling?”
“Trading,” Rem said. “If there’s something better.”
“Better how?”
“Intelligence. Perception. Essence control.” He paused. “Anything permanent.”
She set the vial down slowly. “That requires a private exchange. Guild-officiated.”
“How much?”
“Twenty credits.”
Rem exhaled through his nose. “That’s steep.”
“They don’t sit unsold,” she said. “And they don’t stay unnoticed.”
“How much to buy one outright?”
She didn’t bother lowering her voice. “You won’t. Auctions. Groups with deeper pockets than you.”
“And I’m guessing the formula’s locked?”
She nodded once. “Not for sale.”
Rem nodded back.
“Trade it,” he said. “Priority on Intelligence. The rest are fine.”
She boxed the vial and slid it under the counter. Her interface flickered. A system agreement appeared in Rem’s view. He read it carefully. Accepted.
“One more thing,” he said.
She looked up, already weighing cost.
“Meal substitute,” Rem said. “Full nutrition. Formula if possible.”
Her eyes narrowed a fraction. “Planning to stay inside longer.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll see what exists,” she said. “No guarantees.”
That was enough.
Rem stepped away from the counter. Someone moved into his place immediately. The assistants kept working. The line compressed and relaxed as orders finished.
He pushed through the door and out of the warmth, and only then noticed how fast his heart was going.
Freshly supplied and ready to go back into Challenge Four, Rem decided to take a short break and visit home.
It had only been a few hours since he’d left that morning. The unit looked the same when he stepped inside, but the timing felt wrong in his head. Like he’d skipped something.
The lights were off. The air was still.
He stood just inside the door, pack still on his shoulder, listening. No movement. No voices. The quiet pressed in.
“Rem.”
Tomas’ voice came from the dining area.
He was sitting at the table. Papers spread out in front of him. Not stacked—just there. The glow from an interface lit his hands and part of his face. He looked thinner than Rem remembered. Not weak. Worn.
“Tomas.” Rem slid his pack off and set it down by the wall. He kept the sound soft. “What are you doing sitting in the dark?”
“I’m not,” Tomas said. “Level six.”
A beat.
“One of the perks.”
Rem nodded once. He didn’t comment.
“You leveled,” Tomas added. “Four now. We need to talk.”
Rem hesitated, then pulled the chair back and sat. He didn’t lean on the table. Kept his hands in his lap.
“I haven’t seen you much,” Rem said. “Thought you might’ve moved out.”
“I didn’t,” Tomas said. “I was just avoiding you.”
Rem’s shoulders tightened before he could stop it.
“You uninstalled your ware?”
The question landed heavier than Rem expected. Tomas leaned forward slightly, eyes fixed on him.
“Two days ago.”
Rem let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
“That’s… good,” Tomas said, quieter now. “That’s really good.”
Rem waited.
“What’s this about?” he asked.
Tomas looked down at the papers instead of answering right away. He shifted one, then put it back where it had been.
“Do you remember before the trial?” he asked.
Rem’s jaw set. He stared at the tabletop.
“I remember the house,” he said. “School. Maddie.”
“Do you remember Dad?” Tomas asked.
Rem’s fingers curled slightly in his lap.
“He used to call me son.”
“Yeah.”
The word sat there between them.
Tomas leaned forward, elbows on the table, hands clasped.
“He was happy,” he said. “Before.”
A pause.
“After everything went wrong… he wasn’t.”
Rem didn’t respond. His foot tapped once against the floor, then stilled.
“He got angry,” Tomas said. “Suspicious.”
Another pause.
“And I blamed you.”
Rem’s gaze dropped.
“He told me once he thought you’d been replaced,” Tomas said. “That you weren’t really you anymore.” He swallowed. “That we had to be careful.”
Rem shifted in his chair. The wood creaked softly.
“You were different,” Tomas continued. “Before, you were always pushing. Even when you were little.”
“And now?” Rem said. His voice was flat. “I just lie around running sims?”
“That’s not—” Tomas stopped himself. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I hold three world records,” Rem said.
Tomas nodded. “I know.”
Silence.
“I didn’t have a reason,” Tomas said after a while. “Not a real one. I missed the Dad he was and I blamed you. ”
He rubbed his hands together once, hard.
“Without the ware… it’s obvious Dad’s not right. The trial broke him.”
“I know,” Rem said quietly.
“I’m sorry,” Tomas said. “You were the one it happened to. And we treated you like the problem.”
Rem turned his head slightly, eyes unfocused.
Words didn’t reach that far back.
“I figured,” he said. “I wondered too.”
A pause.
“Part of me thought the black wafer would finish it.”
“And you still took it,” Tomas said.
“Had to know.”
Tomas nodded.
“Astrid died two days ago,” he said.
Rem looked up.
“Challenge Six,” Tomas added. “Right in front of me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She left a core,” Tomas said. His hands clenched. “Everything else just… gone.”
He gestured at the papers.
“I’ve been looking things up. You can bring people back if you have the core. Enough essence.” His voice tightened. “That’s the secret. Once you hit one hundred, your core becomes impervious. You can always be brought back.”
Rem leaned forward a fraction. Did that mean Noah’s core was somewhere. Did they keep it?
“The Union won’t do it for low levels,” Tomas said. “Not worth the cost.”
His jaw worked.
“Noah died because the essence wasn’t worth it. I could’ve saved him if they’d unlocked my class skills.”
The room went quiet again.
“They don’t trust us,” Tomas said. “They think we’ll waste it.”
Rem watched his brother slump back in the chair.
“What are you going to do?” Rem asked.
Tomas didn’t answer right away.
He pushed one of the papers into a neater stack. Then another. He was cleaning without meaning to.
“I’m leaving,” he said finally.
Rem didn’t react. He waited.
“Got an offer from the Americans,” Tomas went on. “They are recruiting high-levels.” A pause. “Ignored it, but with Astrid gone I’m thinking about taking it.”
He stopped there.
The unit hummed. Somewhere in the wall, something clicked and went quiet again.
“But,” Tomas said.
He leaned forward, forearms on the table. His hands were steady now, flat against the surface.
“I don’t think I should,” he said. “Not yet.”
Rem looked at him.
“If I go,” Tomas said, “it’s just you and him.”
He didn’t need to say which him.
“So I’ll stay,” he said. “For now.”
Rem felt something twist in his chest. Not relief. Something closer to guilt. He hesitated, then pushed back from the table and stood. He didn’t pace. He stayed where he was, like moving might tip something over.
“You should leave,” Tomas said.
Rem frowned. “What?”
“You,” Tomas said again. “You should move out.”
The words landed wrong. Sharp.
“You don’t have to put up with this anymore,” Tomas added quickly. “With your books. Your alchemy. You could live wherever you want.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Hell Rem. With your world records, if you go public you’ll get recruited by everyone. We’re holding you back.”
Rem stared at the table.
“I’m only sixteen.”
“You’ve never been only anything, but I’ll stay,” Tomas said. “Just long enough to make sure he doesn’t do something stupid.” A pause. “But you shouldn’t.”
Rem leaned back in his chair. The wood creaked.
“Think about it,” Tomas said. His voice was quieter now. “Please.”
Rem nodded once. Not agreement. Just acknowledgment.
Outside, something passed the window. Light shifted, then settled.
“I’m going to be in challenge four so much it’ll be like I’ve moved out,” Rem said after a moment.
Tomas looked at him.
“Just watch yourself,” he said. “It’s the things you get used to that can get you.”
Rem stood, picked up his pack, and slung it over his shoulder. The weight felt familiar. Grounding.
“Thanks,” he said.
