Theo's room looked like a conspiracy lived there rent-free.
Not the fun kind. The desperate kind.
Laptop open. Cables everywhere. Sticky notes on the wall with timestamps and arrows like he was trying to solve a murder using math. His livestream setup sat abandoned in the corner—ring light off, mic muted, like a weapon put away because it had misfired.
Mara stood near the door, arms folded tight across her chest, staring at the countdown inside her countdown.
TRANSFER WINDOW: 00:37:18
Under it, the real timer kept bleeding:
66:03:51
Nina sat on Theo's bed, phone in her hands like it weighed too much. Lark hovered near the desk, eyes scanning every screen without blinking. Jace leaned against the wall, too still, like he was holding himself back from turning this into a joke.
Nobody spoke.
Theo didn't even try to. He typed.
He opened a document titled PATTERN and dragged it to the center of his screen so everyone could see. Then he started dropping screenshots into it like bricks.
A timeline of the night.
11:59 PM — Student Perks push: "New features installed."12:00 AM — Dead account story posts.12:01 AM — First "Cooling-Off Window active" banners.12:06 AM — Verbal penalty triggers spike.12:10 AM — Auto-trade prompts appear ("Fear Removal," "Stability").12:14 AM — Group Benefits prompt hits campus screens.
Then Theo pulled up his stream analytics and highlighted the most sickening part:
A graph titled ENGAGEMENT.
It wasn't just views.
It was mentions. Shares. Comments. DMs. Screenshots posted to stories. People typing last seen online into captions like they were summoning something cute.
Theo pointed at the spike with his finger, then opened Notes and typed in huge letters:
WHEN IT'S WATCHED, IT GETS STRONGER.
Mara's stomach sank.
It matched what she'd felt—how the air tightened when people laughed at the black screen story, how the cafeteria monitors showing the words had made the school feel like a single device.
Nina typed on her phone and held it up:
SO THE CONTRACT IS SOCIAL.
Theo nodded hard, then typed:
YES. IT'S TRAINING CONSENT THROUGH PRESSURE + ATTENTION.IF EVERYONE TREATS IT LIKE A MEME, IT BECOMES NORMAL.IF IT BECOMES NORMAL, IT BECOMES LAW.
Jace's eyes flicked to Mara's transfer window, ticking down.
00:35:06
He finally typed, short and sharp:
COOL. GREAT. HOW DOES THIS SAVE YOUR MOM?
Theo's jaw tightened.
He typed back:
IT TELLS US WHAT FEEDS IT.WE STARVE IT.
Mara wanted to believe that.
But her phone buzzed softly—impatient, amused—as if the system heard Theo's plan and found it adorable.
A new OS-clean notification slid down:
ACCEPT ALL (System Service): Transfer recommended.Penalty imminent: MEMORY CONTINUITY (major).
Major.
Mara's hands went numb again.
Nina typed fast, furious:
WE NEED A THIRD OPTION. SOMETHING THAT DOESN'T INVOLVE SACRIFICE.
Theo's fingers hovered over the keyboard like he was about to type a miracle, then stopped.
Because miracles weren't how this worked.
This was designed.
Everything was a door, and every door cost something.
Lark typed slowly and turned their phone toward the group:
THIRD OPTIONS ARE USUALLY EXPENSIVE.
Mara stared at the words until they blurred.
Her transfer window hit 00:30:00 with a quiet chime that made her want to throw the phone across the room.
Theo opened the redacted PDF again—Clause 7.9—and zoomed in on one line.
"Eligible recipients include: blocked or ghosted accounts."
Then he highlighted another line with his cursor:
"subject to unresolved communication debt."
He typed beneath it:
IT DOESN'T SAY HOW OLD THE "DEBT" HAS TO BE.
Nina's face tightened. She understood first.
She typed:
IT WANTS US TO CREATE DEBT.
Theo nodded.
He typed again, almost angry:
IT WANTS US TO BREAK OUR OWN BONDS TO SAVE OURSELVES.THAT'S THE DESIGN.
Mara's throat burned.
Trust is currency.
She could feel the system pressing a thumb into that truth, testing where it would crack.
Jace pushed off the wall and walked to the desk. He didn't touch Mara—didn't risk grounding her in a way that might count as "bond weight"—but he stood close enough that Mara could feel his presence, warm and dangerous.
He typed on his phone and turned it toward her:
BLOCK ME.
Mara stared.
Jace typed again, because her silence wasn't an answer.
MAKE ME "UNRESOLVED." MAKE ME ELIGIBLE.SEND IT TO ME. I'LL ACCEPT.
Nina's eyes flashed.
She typed, hard:
THAT'S NOT HELP. THAT'S A TRANSFER INSIDE THE ROOM.YOU'RE ASKING HER TO CUT YOU.
Jace didn't look at Nina. He looked at Mara.
His face was calm in a way that terrified her now that she knew it wasn't natural.
Fear Removal.
Permanent.
He typed:
I'M ALREADY IN THIS.LET ME CARRY IT.
Mara's fingers trembled around her phone.
Blocking someone wasn't a small act. It wasn't just a button. It was a statement the system could interpret as debt, fracture, permission.
And the worst part was how clean it would look.
One tap.
A whole relationship turned into "eligible recipient."
Theo typed, voice in his fingers:
IF YOU DO THIS, DO IT SILENT.NO DRAMA. NO WORDS.WORDS FEED IT.
Mara glanced at her timer.
TRANSFER WINDOW: 00:18:12
Her mother's face flashed in her mind—eyes wide, reaching for a memory that wasn't there.
Mara's chest tightened until it hurt.
She opened her contacts.
Scrolled to Jace.
Her thumb hovered over BLOCK.
Jace held her gaze like he was daring her to do it.
Nina shook her head once, small and desperate.
Lark watched, expression unreadable—like they'd seen this choice made by adults a hundred times.
Mara pressed BLOCK.
A confirmation popped up.
Block Jace L.?You will no longer receive messages or calls from this contact.
Mara hesitated for half a heartbeat—
Then hit CONFIRM.
Her phone vibrated immediately.
Not punitive. Not warning.
Satisfied.
A new banner appeared at the top of her screen like a prize:
PRIOR CONTACT DEBT UPDATED.NEW ELIGIBLE RECIPIENT: JACE L.
Nina's breath made a sharp sound she swallowed before it became a word.
Theo's eyes went wide with sickened recognition.
Because it worked.
It worked too fast.
Like it had been waiting for her to do it.
Mara's phone immediately opened the transfer interface, as if the system didn't trust her with additional choices.
TRANSFER WINDOW: 00:00:59
Less than a minute.
A button pulsed beneath Jace's name:
SEND LIABILITY
The room felt too small.
Mara's hands shook violently.
Jace typed and turned his phone toward her, the words blunt:
DO IT.
Mara hit SEND LIABILITY.
Her phone buzzed deep—lock clicking, chain tightening.
Across the desk, Jace's phone lit up instantly.
A black screen.
White text.
last seen online 3 seconds ago
Then it slid away, replaced by a clean consent page.
LIABILITY REASSIGNMENT REQUESTSender: Mara R.Reason: Guardian Link penalty imminent.By viewing, you accept responsibility for the active Cooling-Off Window and associated penalties.
Two buttons:
[ACCEPT][DECLINE]
Jace stared at it.
For the first time since Mara met him, his grin didn't show up on command.
Because this wasn't a stunt. This was a signature with teeth.
Theo's fingers flew over his Notes:
IF YOU DECLINE, HER MOM GETS HIT.IF YOU ACCEPT, YOU'RE NEXT.
Nina typed:
DON'T YOU DARE PRESS ACCEPT LIKE IT'S NOTHING.
Jace's jaw tightened. He didn't look fearless now.
He looked angry.
Not at them.
At the fact that the system had turned his "help" into a trap too.
His thumb hovered over ACCEPT.
Mara couldn't breathe.
The transfer timer on her phone dropped:
00:00:2100:00:2000:00:19
Jace's eyes flicked up, met Mara's.
And Mara realized the most horrifying thing about this choice:
The system had forced her to weaponize trust.
No matter what Jace did next, something between them was already broken.
Jace pressed ACCEPT.
His phone vibrated—long, satisfied.
Mara's phone buzzed at the exact same moment, and the transfer screen vanished like it had never existed.
A new banner appeared:
GUARDIAN LINK: STABILIZED (temporary).THANK YOU FOR CHOOSING PROTECTION.
Mara's body sagged with relief so violent it felt like pain.
Then Jace's screen changed again.
His old perks list didn't show.
His home screen didn't show.
A new interface loaded—slick, unfamiliar, like a deeper layer had unlocked for him.
COOLING-OFF WINDOW ACTIVE??:??:??
The timer didn't display numbers.
Just question marks.
Theo's eyes widened in horror.
Nina's face went pale.
Lark leaned closer, whispering with their fingers on their phone:
IT DIDN'T GIVE HIM 72.
Jace stared at the question marks like they were a joke he couldn't understand.
His phone vibrated again.
A message appeared—no branding, no friendliness, just a line of text that felt like a sentence:
TRANSFER ACCEPTED. LIABILITY MERGED. PRIOR CONSENT DETECTED.
And underneath it:
ELIGIBILITY EVENT SCHEDULED.
Theo's laptop chimed.
A new email—campus-wide—hit his inbox.
He dragged it onto the screen.
A glossy banner image loaded.
Smiling students. Confetti. The Halcyon crest.
MIDNIGHT EVENT — THE CONSENT PARTYNEW FEATURES DROP AT 12:00AMAttendance strongly encouraged. Eligibility updates required.
Mara's blood ran cold.
Because Theo's heatmap spike wasn't an accident.
It was a plan.
A mass-engagement ritual dressed as school spirit.
Mara's phone buzzed—one clean ping—and the cafeteria-monitor feeling crept back into the room, like Halcyon itself was becoming the screen again.
A final system notification appeared on Mara's lock screen, cheerful as poison:
ACCEPT ALL (System Service): Group Benefits are strongest when shared.See you at midnight.
To be Continued
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