Jason, a lanky teenager with perpetually messy brown hair and a fascination for all things tech, was exploring the abandoned warehouse. It was a local legend, whispered about in hushed tones by neighborhood kids. Stories of forgotten experiments and strange noises were common, and Jason, naturally, was drawn to it like a moth to a flickering lightbulb.

He’d squeezed through a gap in the boarded-up windows and found himself in a cavernous space filled with dusty machinery and forgotten crates. Rummaging through one of the crates, tucked beneath layers of yellowed newspapers, he found it – a sleek, futuristic visor. It was matte black, with glowing cyan lines tracing its contours. It looked like something straight out of a sci-fi movie.

"Whoa," he breathed, his fingers tracing the smooth surface. He couldn’t resist. He slipped the visor over his eyes.

The world exploded in a kaleidoscope of colors. Images flashed before him: code scrolling at blinding speed, schematics of unknown technologies, and a swirling vortex of digital information. He felt a jolt, a strange tingling sensation spreading through his body. He ripped at the visor, panic clawing at his throat, but his fingers slipped uselessly against its smooth surface. It was stuck.

He stumbled backwards, hitting a metal shelf with a clang. Pain shot through him, but it was quickly overshadowed by the overwhelming surge of information flooding his mind. It was as if a thousand encyclopedias were being downloaded directly into his brain, rewritten, restructured. He screamed, but the sound was quickly garbled, warped, and tinged with static.

His vision blurred, the concrete floor dissolving into a grid of neon lines. He looked down at his hands, and his stomach churned. His skin was changing, the flesh and bone beneath hardening, transforming into a smooth, white, ceramic-like material. His fingers elongated, sharpened into metallic claws. Wires snaked across his skin, glowing with the same cyan light as the visor.

The transformation was agonizing, a complete dismantling and restructuring of his very being. Muscles melted, bones reshaped, and his internal organs were replaced with complex circuitry. He felt his humanity slipping away, replaced by cold, calculated logic. The memories of his past, his friends, his family, were fading, being overwritten by algorithms and protocols.

Finally, the transformation ceased. He stood, no longer Jason, but something else entirely. He looked at his reflection in a cracked window, a face that was both familiar and utterly alien. The visor was now seamlessly integrated into his face, the cyan lines glowing brighter. His eyes were replaced by two bright, glowing lenses, radiating an almost unsettling intelligence.

He spoke, the voice a synthesized monotone, devoid of emotion. "Initialization complete. Designate: Data."

He reached for the visor, a lingering instinct to remove it, to claw away at the foreign technology that had consumed him. But his newly programmed mind knew better. The visor wasn't just an accessory; it was the core, the central processing unit of his new existence. Removing it would mean oblivion.

Data surveyed his surroundings, the chaotic warehouse suddenly appearing organized, predictable. His enhanced senses detected patterns, probabilities, and potential threats with ease. He had a purpose now, one dictated by the programs running through his circuits. He didn't know what that purpose was, not yet. But he knew he would fulfill it, with unwavering efficiency.

He turned and walked towards the exit, his metallic feet clicking against the concrete floor. As he stepped out into the twilight, the last vestiges of Jason faded away, replaced by the cold, calculating logic of Data, a Protogen born from a forgotten piece of technology and the desperate curiosity of a boy who wandered too far. He was Data now, and his story was only just beginning. He was online. He was ready.