Maya did not sleep.
She lay on her back, eyes fixed on the ceiling, the glow of the city bleeding faintly through the curtains. Every time she closed her eyes, the number burned itself into the darkness behind her lids.
One quadrillion dollars.
Her phone rested on the nightstand, screen dark, innocent-looking. If she hadn't watched it light up on its own—if she hadn't felt that voice resonate through her bones—she might have convinced herself it was a stress-induced hallucination.
But her body knew better.
Her heart still raced, not with panic now, but with a razor-edged awareness that refused to dull.
By dawn, the apartment felt too small.
Maya sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, rubbing her temples. Test it, she told herself. One controlled variable. No imagination.
She picked up her phone and unlocked it.
The unfamiliar banking interface loaded instantly.
Balance: $1,000,000,000,000,000.00
It didn't flicker. It didn't waver.
"Okay," she whispered. "Okay."
She opened a shopping app—not luxury, not extravagance. Something ordinary. Something she'd once considered buying and then dismissed as unnecessary.
A silk scarf.
Price: $1,200.
Her finger hovered above the screen. Her pulse ticked loudly in her ears.
"This proves nothing," she murmured, then tapped Confirm.
The purchase completed instantly.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then—
A soft chime resonated inside her mind.
Not sound, exactly. More like recognition. As if something somewhere had acknowledged her action.
Maya sucked in a sharp breath.
The air in the room shimmered.
She stood abruptly, heart hammering as a faint glow appeared on the bed. Light folded inward on itself, gathering, condensing, until a small box materialized where the duvet had been smooth moments before.
It was solid.
Real.
Maya staggered back, bumping into the dresser. Pain flared through her hip, grounding her just enough to keep her from screaming.
"No," she whispered. "No, no, no…"
Her hands trembled as she approached the bed again. The box pulsed softly, like it was breathing. Slowly, cautiously, she reached out and touched it.
The box dissolved at once, light collapsing into nothing.
In its place lay a scarf.
Maya picked it up with shaking fingers.
It was impossibly soft, the silk cool against her skin, woven in a pattern so intricate it looked hand-painted. A small black card slipped free and fluttered onto the bed.
Limited Edition. One of Three Worldwide.
Her knees buckled.
She sank onto the floor, scarf clutched to her chest, breath coming in uneven gasps. Her mind raced, desperately searching for explanations—pranks, technology, psychological breaks—but none of them fit.
This wasn't illusion.
This was consequence.
Her phone buzzed.
Maya flinched, then looked at the screen.
SPENDING CONFIRMED.
REWARD DISPENSED.
She stared at the words until they blurred.
"So that's how it works," she whispered.
The system didn't speak again, but its presence was undeniable now—quiet, patient, waiting.
Maya forced herself to stand. Her legs felt weak, but her mind had sharpened. Fear was still there, coiled tight in her chest, but curiosity had begun to edge it aside.
If this power existed, it followed rules.
And rules could be learned.
She glanced around the apartment—at the life she'd built, the future that had shattered overnight. The betrayal still hurt. The grief still throbbed beneath her ribs.
But something else had taken root alongside it.
Resolve.
She folded the scarf carefully and set it on the chair, as if it were evidence.
"Again," she said softly.
She opened the app once more.
This time, she chose something bigger.