[ WP ] Society has progressed to the point where cybernetic implants are common and cheap and incredible .

John awoke, and then promptly wished he had n't. Not that sleeping was better, mind you. 
 
 He'd had that nightmare again. The same one he'd been having practically every night, ever since he'd got back from his tour of duty. The one where the events of said tour endlessly replayed themselves in hellish detail. 
 
 He was n't a violent person by nature, but times were hard and the economy harder. He'd needed the money. So had his family, for that matter. So when those adverts had begun to spring up, from those enterprising private security firms itching to put recent cybernetic advances to use, he'd gone for it. It was a way out, if nothing else. 
 
 At first, it was pretty cool. Scratch that, it was incredible. He could outrun a motorbike, lift a car with ease, and leap single-story buildings in one jump. His eyes could highlight and share targets with his squad mates and his body could shut down his very nerves if he was injured. He'd felt invincible. 
 
 But some of those blessings had just as easily turned out to be curses. The monotony of endless patrols was that much worse when your brain's glucose levels were automatically filtered, keeping it at peak efficiency. Super-hearing was fine when you're listening at doors, but when an IED goes off next to your vehicle it could overwhelmed you and left you catatonic for hours, if not days. The constant stares of mistrustful wariness ( if not outright fear ) from the locals didn ’ t help either. 
 
 And then there were the reaction times. The reaction times were the worst. 
 
 He'd been jumpy, that day. Twitchy. His whole squad has been. Attacks had been on the increase in their area, with more bombs and more casualties practically every day. So when his sensors had picked up a small, roughly grenade-sized object hurtling towards them, they did n't think. They did n't have time to think. They simply reacted. In seconds they'd all turned, picked their targets and fired, each shot hitting precisely where they were targeted. 
 
 The problem was that the object was n't a grenade, nor were the assailants they'd expertly shot insurgents out for blood. They ’ d been merely children, playing baseball. One of them had presumably swung the bat wrong, and sent the ball hurtling towards the military cyborgs purely by accident. 
 
 An accident that cost them their lives. 
 
 John sighed, and got up to get himself a cup of coffee. It would n't perk him up, but it would keep him distracted for a minute or two. And he did n't think he'd be getting any more sleep that night anyway. 

