Alex woke up to the soft buzzing of her nano-cell alarm, vibrating gently in her head. The hum was subtle yet relentless, like a whisper urging her to abandon sleep and return to reality. She hated it—the sensation always lingered, making her thoughts jolt abruptly into motion. But the nano-cell was effective, a necessary part of her fast-paced life. At one point, she had thought it was the smartest and most humane way to wake up. Now, she wasn’t so sure.
As she got out of bed and stretched, she already knew she had been automatically connected to the Network, and her status had switched to „Available“ the moment her eyes opened. She shuffled to the bathroom, changing it to „Do Not Disturb“ with a mere thought. The system embedded in her neural pathways responded instantly. As the water warmed up, she caught her reflection in the mirror and smirked.
She recalled a recent incident — her father had forgotten to toggle his status and had accidentally live-streamed himself while taking a shower. A local farming magazine from her small hometown, Montgomery Creek, wasted no time broadcasting it to all their subscribers. Her father became somewhat of a local celebrity, and more than a few widowed farmwomen had shown up at his ranch, eager to „inspect“ his bulls. He had laughed it off, but she still shuddered at the thought of how many other things might accidentally be broadcasted.
Alex let her thoughts drift like a rising tide as the water cascaded over her body. Her mind took her back to when she was just ten years old — to the War. To the time before the world had „changed for the better.“ The images came unbidden — memories of the Great War and the waves of refugees that followed. It turned out that many of them had been “sleeper terrorist cells,” activated years after their arrival. As if someone had orchestrated the war just to set them in motion.
Then came the devastating terrorist attacks, wiping out major cities across the globe. She remembered watching the chaos unfold on the news with her parents. For the first time in history, the governments of every nation united to crush the looming threat. It was as if they had suddenly realized how they had been led astray during the Great War. This time, they acted with iron resolve. They created a special force composed of the best of the best — soldiers, politicians, scientists, strategists. This elite unit eradicated the terrorist organization and freed the world.
With their newfound power, the unit was granted unprecedented authority. They named themselves the World Order, and their first mission was to propose the creation of a global human internet network — one that would be implanted directly into the consciousness of every citizen. Governments agreed instantly. The human internet network, NeuroLink, was introduced shortly afterward.
At first, people rejoiced at the convenience. Scientists promised that interconnecting every human brain would prevent future disasters. And it worked — for a time. Life became easier. Apps like CortexConnect, a professional networking platform, automated job applications, even submitting resumes without the user’s knowledge. Corporations like VanguardAI, pioneers in cybersecurity and advanced anti-virus solutions, flourished.
But as Alex finished getting ready for work, a lingering dissatisfaction gnawed at her. The freedom they once took for granted had become nothing more than a history lesson in textbooks. Disconnecting was nearly impossible now. The government-imposed restrictions — only two hours offline per day, and even that carried risks — ensured complete compliance. No one was truly free anymore. Whether willingly or not, anyone’s thoughts could leak at any moment.
The World Order claimed that thoughts remained private unless voluntarily shared. Yet, arrests of individuals with undesirable opinions happened often enough to make people question whether that was truly the case. Eventually, though, society just… accepted it.
Still lost in thought, Alex grabbed an energy bar instead of a proper breakfast and stepped outside. Her car seamlessly synchronized with her neural feed, projecting her messages onto the dashboard. She was one of the few remaining people who still preferred reading news from a screen rather than having it instantly implanted as thoughts directly into her brain.
One notification caught her eye: „Congratulations! NeuroLink and CortexConnect are pleased to inform you that, based on your profile and achievements, you have been offered a position at NASA. Please confirm your interest and expected start date at your earliest convenience.“
Alex let out a slightly hysterical laugh. The artificial intelligence had done it again — submitted an application for her dream job without her knowledge. She had always wanted to work for NASA, but it felt strange to celebrate something she hadn’t actively pursued herself.
As she pulled into the university parking lot, she decided to call her best friend, Lena Rivera. Alex sent out a neural connection request, redirecting the call through her car’s interface.
The two had been inseparable during their physics studies at Montgomery Creek University. They had once dreamed of making groundbreaking discoveries — pioneering technology that could unravel the mysteries of space-time. They had worked tirelessly on their theories of interdimensional travel, but even with the most advanced technology, their ideas had remained hypothetical, unproven. Still, their ambition had been unwavering. They had envisioned themselves at top-tier universities or private research firms, dedicated to solving the greatest scientific questions of their time.
Life after graduation, however, had steered them down different paths. Alex had become a professor — not the career she had imagined for herself, but one where she had found some level of success. She was one of the few remaining human lecturers, untouched by artificial intelligence augmentation. Many of her colleagues were either humanoid robots or enhanced humans with implanted processors that allowed for rapid data processing and thought-generation.
Lena, on the other hand, had met her husband during their final year of university. She married young and now had two children, thriving in her meticulously curated online world — sharing her life with millions of followers. In other words, she was a full-time influencer. Despite the rise of AI-generated content, human influencers still held their place in the digital hierarchy. This was partly because the interconnectedness of the Network made content sharing effortless, and people still preferred real personalities over synthetic avatars.
Lena was lucky — her husband, Peter, adored her eccentric lifestyle and supported her in everything she did. He was a lead developer in cybersecurity, one of the architects behind the Network’s security systems. His position ensured that Lena had the highest level of encryption and protection on her profile. Her personal data was meant to be untouchable.
Despite their vastly different lives, Lena and Alex had remained best friends.
— Hey, Lena! I just got some incredible news! — Alex said, barely able to contain her excitement. — Our usual meet-up still on?
— Of course! — Lena’s voice was bright, full of warmth. — I can’t wait to catch up!
Alex spent the rest of the day in restless anticipation. She had a long list of people she wanted to share her news with, but somehow, it felt right to tell Lena first. They had supported each other through so much over the years.
There was something about this moment — their lives pulling them in opposite directions, yet still managing to reconnect. Although their lives had taken different paths, they understood each other deeply. Lena was Alex’s confidante, and Alex was hers. Some time ago, Lena had found herself in a difficult situation, one from which the young physics professor had helped her escape with unwavering support.
Lena had recorded a video for her followers, expressing frustration over the restrictions she felt imposed upon her by the Network. However, no one took her concerns seriously — everyone knew that, despite everything, she had far more freedom than most due to her husband’s high-ranking profession. Instead of gaining the expected approval and likes, her video received a wave of negative comments, some of which were deeply offensive and inappropriate. Lena was devastated, unsure of what to do. It felt like the end of the world.
Alex, however, saw things differently. She had learned that within the Network, every news story is quickly replaced by the next. For several days, she tirelessly consoled her friend, assuring her that soon, something else would distract the public. Sure enough, Lena’s greatest competitor, Max Shepard, drunkenly broadcasted his reckless behavior outside a nightclub. Lena’s mood rapidly improved, and she resumed her life as usual — creating new content, entertaining her followers, and moving forward.
At times, Alex felt that Lena’s emotions were like a rollercoaster in an amusement park — whenever she faced negativity, she spiraled into despair, convinced it was the end of everything.
Later that evening, Alex found Lena waiting at their usual spot in the university park. Before they graduated, they had picked this very place and made a promise — every Wednesday, no excuses. Five years had passed, and they had kept their tradition alive.
As Alex approached, she noticed Lena talking to herself. It wasn’t hard to guess — she was recording something for her millions of followers. Alex rolled her eyes but smiled. Some things never change.
— Guess who’s going to NASA? — Alex said, settling onto the bench beside her friend.
Lena squealed with excitement.
— Oh my god, that’s incredible! My biggest news is that my new dress got two million likes yesterday. And now, I get to sit here with a future NASA researcher! I can’t believe it! I’m so happy for you, Alex!
Alex shook her head, pretending not to hear the praise.
— Lena, you really need to be careful. Last time, people dragged you for days over those orange shoes.
Lena grinned sheepishly.
— I know, but I have a new solution for that. It’s a brain capsule from NeuroTrust Solutions — completely legitimate. It eliminates bad thoughts, you know how sometimes I get anxious over my online profile. I ordered it right away and already tested it. It’s like wearing permanent rose-colored glasses.
— How does that even work? – Alex frowned.
Before Lena could answer, their neural feeds were suddenly flooded — images, videos, private conversations. Lena froze, her face draining of color as she realized what had happened. Her most intimate and personal moments had been leaked.
— I-I need to go. — her voice trebled.
The days that followed were a blur of tension. Alex couldn’t reach Lena and grew increasingly worried. She was relieved when she finally got through to Lena’s husband, Peter, who reassured her that she was physically safe. Their weekly meetup was coming up soon, so Alex decided to give Lena time to process everything. They always worked through problems together. This would be no different.
That Wednesday, Lena was late. A few minutes passed, then a few more. Alex started to get anxious and was about to call her when—
— Hey, Alex. How are you? — The voice behind her was flat, drained of warmth.
Alex turned and gasped. Lena was pale and gaunt, as if she had aged a decade in just a few days. Her once vibrant expression was gone.
— Lena, are you okay? I was really worried! Please, sit and tell me everything that happened.
Lena sighed heavily, as though speaking required effort.
— You remember that brain capsule I told you about? — she began, her voice hollow. — I checked everything I could about NeuroTrust Solutions, thought they were legitimate. A few days after I ordered it, I got a strange message — someone claiming to be a hacker. Said he had extracted all my memories and thoughts. Demanded a ransom to stop them from being leaked.
She paused, visibly struggling to continue.
— I-I didn’t believe it at first. You know me, Alex. I always have the best security — Peter makes sure of that. But somehow, someone found a vulnerability. And the letter turned out to be real. Everything that was leaked that night… it was real. Those thoughts, those private moments — I kept them locked away in my mind, but now the whole world knows.
Alex stared, unable to find words. She had seen it all. And she knew it was true because some of the leaked memories were things Lena had told her in confidence — or events Alex had been there for.
Alex took a deep breath. There was no way to soften the truth, so she asked the only question that came to mind. And while most of the leaked content wasn’t particularly shocking, some moments revealed Lena in deeply intimate situations with her husband, or discussions about confidential matters from his company — things that could be incredibly dangerous if they ended up in the wrong minds.
— How did Peter take it?
Lena attempted a weak smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
— You know Peter — no matter what happens, he always supports me. Somehow, I don’t even understand how, he managed to fix all the problems I caused for him at work. But… my troubles didn’t end there.
She hesitated. Then, her voice dropped even lower.
— Alex… I was desperate. I didn’t know what to do. The shame was unbearable. It felt like one of those nightmares—you know, the ones where you’re standing naked in front of your entire class. One night, I just… I disconnected from the Network for a bit. But I lost track of time… and forgot to reconnect within the two-hour limit.
Alex felt her chest tighten. She knew exactly what this meant.
A colleague of hers had made the same mistake once — been offline for too long. As punishment, she was silenced for days. No communication, no work, no access to public spaces. Any attempt to speak or post online was instantly blocked.
Lena’s voice cracked.
— The day before it happened, I got a call from Glenn’s school. They told me he had been suspended for two weeks. He had gotten into a fight. — She swallowed hard. — When he got home, I asked him why. He said it was because of my videos — the ones everyone saw. You see, even though he’s already ten, he doesn’t understand everything. He thought I had deliberately posted all of it myself. Even though the Network filters certain content for kids, somehow his classmates had found them and mocked him. And no matter how advanced this society is, boys will always be boys…
Alex’s heart sank.
— Lena… I’m so sorry. I hope this is the end of your problems.
She reached out, trying to embrace her friend, but Lena didn’t move. She just sat there, staring blankly into the distance.
— No… it’s not the end. — Her voice was barely above a whisper. — All of those thoughts weighed on me. I disconnected from the Network… and forgot to reconnect in time. They punished me. You probably already guessed that, right? Three days of silence. I could have handled that, but…
Lena’s face twisted in pain.
— Peter paid the price, too. His company didn’t like that the wife of one of their top security engineers broke the rules — the very rules they built their foundation on. He was fired the next day.
A few tears rolled down her cheeks, but her eyes remained emotionless.
— I have to go, Alex. I’m sorry. I’m just… not good company.
Alex reached for her arm, but Lena was already walking away.
For days, Alex tried to get in touch with her. No response. Lena hadn’t posted anything either — highly unusual for her. Her status kept flickering between different modes, none of which allowed Alex to reach her.
Then, something changed.
Her status switched to „Undefined.“ Alex had never seen that before.
Just as she processed that thought, she received a notification: Lena Rivera is LIVE.
Alex clicked immediately—along with millions of Lena’s followers.
She couldn’t quite understand what she was looking at.
The live feed was chaotic. Lena was running— fast — the images blurred and distorted. Nothing was clear.
Then, her voice came through. Strangely calm.
— I never imagined it would feel so freeing.
Suddenly, there was a loud crash. The screen went black.
Lena’s status updated instantly.
„Deceased.“
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Bulgarian version: