Marcus stood in front of the bathroom mirror, studying his reflection with an intensity
that would have been foreign to him just yesterday. The face staring back at him was the
same—dark circles under brown eyes, stubble that had grown past intentional to simply
unkempt, hair that needed a cut weeks ago. And yet something was undeniably
different. His eyes seemed more focused, his posture straighter.
"I still look like shit," he muttered, running a hand through his tangled hair. "But I feel..."
Different. More alert. Your neurotransmitter levels are stabilizing, and I've made minor
adjustments to your sleep cycle efficiency.
Marcus flinched at the voice—no, not voice, exactly—the words that formed directly in
his mind. NEXUS. The system that had introduced itself in what he'd been convinced was
just a bizarre dream. Except the dream had followed him into waking, and now he was
having conversations with an entity that existed solely in his head.
"This is insane," Marcus said, turning on the shower. Steam quickly filled the small
bathroom. "I'm talking to myself in an empty apartment."
You are talking to me. The fact that no one else can hear me doesn't make me less real.
"That's exactly what a hallucination would say." Marcus stepped into the shower, letting
the hot water cascade over him. It felt unusually good, each droplet distinct against his
skin in a way he'd never noticed before.
Your sensory perception is enhanced. You're noticing details that were always present
but filtered out by your normal cognitive processes.
Marcus closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of water hitting his skin, the individual
streams creating patterns of pressure and temperature. "So what exactly are you? You
said you're a system, but what does that mean? Some kind of AI?"
Not in the way your culture currently conceptualizes artificial intelligence. I was not
created through human programming or machine learning algorithms. I am a fragment
of a consciousness that once existed across multiple dimensions, shattered in an event
your languages have no precise term for.
"Multiple dimensions? You expect me to believe you're some kind of... what,
interdimensional being?" Marcus reached for the shampoo, surprised to find himself
genuinely curious rather than dismissive.That terminology is imprecise but functionally adequate for now. What matters is what
our connection enables us to do, not my exact ontological classification.
Marcus snorted. "Ontological classification. You certainly don't talk like any
hallucination I would come up with."
I access language centers in your brain but process information through my own
structures. The vocabulary is yours; the thought patterns are mine.
"And what exactly do you want from me?" Marcus rinsed his hair, watching the suds swirl
down the drain. "You mentioned being a 'host' last night. That sounds parasitic."
Symbiotic, not parasitic. I enhance your capabilities; you provide me with existence in
your physical reality. Neither of us loses; both gain.
Marcus turned off the shower and reached for a towel. "And these 'enhancements'—
what exactly are we talking about here? You mentioned the chess thing, but what else?"
The blue interface that had been hovering at the edge of his vision expanded, becoming
more detailed. Marcus could now see categories labeled "Cognitive," "Perceptual,"
"Physical," and "Knowledge," each with subcategories and progress bars, most of which
were barely filled.
These represent potential areas of enhancement. Currently, most are at minimal levels
as our connection is new. The more we work together, the more these capabilities will
develop.
Marcus wrapped the towel around his waist and wiped steam from the mirror. "So I'm
not going to suddenly be able to fly or shoot laser beams from my eyes?"
No. The enhancements build on your existing human capabilities rather than adding
entirely new ones. Your cognitive processing will become faster and more efficient. Your
senses will perceive more information with greater clarity. Your physical form will
optimize gradually for better performance. And you'll gain access to knowledge beyond
what you could normally acquire.
"And all this happens automatically?"
Some aspects develop naturally as our connection strengthens. Others require specific
focus and practice. The chess match I suggested would be our first deliberate exercise—
using enhanced pattern recognition and probability calculation in a controlled
environment.
Marcus left the bathroom and began rummaging through his clothes, finding the least
wrinkled t-shirt and jeans. As he dressed, he considered the proposition. If this was real—a big if—then he had nothing to lose by testing it. If it was a hallucination or delusion,
well, playing chess in the park was hardly dangerous behavior for someone having a
mental breakdown.
"Alright," he said finally, pulling on his shoes. "Let's say I go along with this. We go to the
park, find this chess hustler, and then what? I've played maybe three games of chess in
my life."
You know the basic rules. I will analyze the board state, calculate optimal moves, and
communicate them to you. You will make the physical moves. It's a simple test with
minimal risk and potential financial gain.
Marcus grabbed his jacket and wallet, checking the latter with a grimace. Seventeen
dollars and some change—all that stood between him and complete destitution. "And if
we lose?"
We won't.
The confidence in that simple statement was startling. Not arrogance, just absolute
certainty. Marcus felt a flutter of something in his chest—not quite hope, but perhaps its
distant cousin. Curiosity.
"Let's go then," he said, heading for the door. "But if this turns out to be some elaborate
hallucination, I'm going to be really pissed."
Noted.
Meridian Park looked different in daylight. Families with children occupied the
playground area, joggers circled the pond, and office workers on lunch breaks sat on
benches eating sandwiches and scrolling through phones. Marcus followed a path
toward the eastern side of the park, where concrete tables with inlaid chess boards
waited for players.
Three tables ahead. The man in the gray cap has been playing for approximately four
hours, based on the wear pattern of the ground around his table and the number of
coffee cups in the nearby trash.
Marcus squinted, noticing for the first time that he could indeed see small details he
would normally have missed—the scuff marks around the table, the exact number of
cups in the trash bin twenty feet away.
"How do you know he's a hustler?" Marcus muttered under his breath, trying not to look
like he was talking to himself.Body language indicates practiced confidence. He has won seven consecutive games
against different opponents based on the exchange of money I've observed since we
entered the park. His technique suggests significant experience, but he occasionally
makes suboptimal moves when ahead—a common strategy to keep opponents engaged
and overconfident.
As they approached, Marcus could see the man more clearly. Mid-sixties, weathered face,
hands that moved the chess pieces with practiced efficiency. A small crowd had
gathered to watch him demolish his current opponent, a young man in business casual
who was staring at the board with growing despair.
"Checkmate in three," the old man said, not unkindly. "Want to see it play out, or shall
we call it here?"
The young man sighed and tipped over his king. "That's three in a row. I thought I had
you that time."
"Almost did," the old man said, though his smile suggested otherwise. He collected the
twenty-dollar bill the younger man reluctantly handed over. "Another round?"
"Can't afford it," the young man said with a rueful smile. "Some of us have to work for a
living." He nodded to the old man and walked away, leaving the seat opposite the
hustler empty.
Now. Approach confidently but not aggressively. Appear interested but not eager.
Marcus stepped forward, trying to project a casualness he didn't feel. "Mind if I play a
round?"
The old man looked up, assessing Marcus with sharp eyes. "Five dollars a game. Ten if
you want me to play left-handed."
"Five is fine," Marcus said, taking the seat across from the man. He placed a five-dollar
bill on the edge of the table.
"You play much?" the old man asked, resetting the pieces with practiced efficiency.
"Not really," Marcus admitted. "But I've been wanting to get back into it."
The old man nodded, seemingly pleased to have an easy mark. "Name's Walter. Been
playing here for twenty years."
"Marcus," he replied, then added silently to NEXUS, So what now?
Observe the board. I'll highlight the optimal moves for you. Try to maintain a neutral
expression regardless of the game state.As Walter finished setting up the board, Marcus noticed a subtle blue outline appearing
around certain pieces, visible only to him. The outlines shifted as Walter gestured for
Marcus to make the first move.
Pawn to e4. A standard opening that gives us flexibility.
Marcus moved the pawn, and the game began. Walter responded quickly, clearly
following a familiar pattern. With each move, NEXUS highlighted Marcus's pieces,
showing him exactly where to move. Occasionally, brief explanations appeared in his
vision:
Knight to f3. This develops our piece and controls the center.
Castle kingside now. This protects our king and connects our rooks.
Marcus followed the instructions, trying to understand the strategy rather than blindly
obeying. To his surprise, he found he could actually follow the logic behind most moves,
as if chess concepts that had previously been opaque were suddenly becoming clear.
Walter's confident expression gradually shifted to concentration, then to slight confusion
as the game progressed. By the fifteenth move, a small crowd had gathered again,
watching the match with interest.
"You said you don't play much?" Walter asked, studying the board with newfound
respect.
"I used to," Marcus improvised. "It's been a while."
Queen to h5. This creates a threat he must respond to, limiting his options.
Marcus moved his queen, noticing how the blue interface showed potential responses
from Walter, with probability percentages attached to each.
Walter studied the board for a long moment before making his move. As soon as his
hand left the piece, NEXUS's message appeared:
He's made a critical error. Bishop to c4. This sets up a forced sequence leading to
checkmate in five moves.
Marcus moved the bishop, feeling a strange thrill as Walter's expression shifted from
confusion to alarm. The old man spent longer on each subsequent move, but NEXUS had
mapped out the entire sequence. Five moves later, Marcus announced, "Checkmate."
The small crowd murmured in appreciation. Walter stared at the board in disbelief
before slowly tipping over his king."Well played," he said, pushing the five-dollar bill toward Marcus. "Care for another
round? Double or nothing?"
Accept. His play will become more conservative, but the outcome will be the same.
"Sure," Marcus said, trying to hide his excitement. This was working. Whatever NEXUS
was, it wasn't just a hallucination—or if it was, it was the most useful hallucination in
history.
The second game lasted longer, with Walter playing more cautiously. NEXUS guided
Marcus through more complex strategies, occasionally explaining concepts that seemed
to unlock understanding in Marcus's mind:
This pin restricts his knight's movement because moving it would expose his queen.
We're creating a discovered attack. When we move this bishop, our rook will threaten his
queen.
By the time Marcus won the second game, the crowd had grown larger, and Walter's
expression had shifted from disbelief to grudging respect.
"One more," Walter said, placing twenty dollars on the table. "I haven't been beaten
twice in a row in years."
He will play more aggressively now, taking calculated risks. We'll use that against him.
The third game was a masterclass. NEXUS guided Marcus through an elegant sequence
of moves that seemed to anticipate Walter's every response. It wasn't just calculation—it
was artistry, creating positions of such beauty that even Walter nodded in appreciation
at certain moments.
When Marcus finally announced "Checkmate" for the third time, the crowd actually
applauded. Walter shook his head in amazement.
"Three in a row," he said, pushing forty dollars toward Marcus. "Where did you learn to
play like that?"
"I had a good teacher," Marcus said, which wasn't exactly a lie.
Walter gathered his pieces, placing them in a worn wooden box. "You should enter the
city championship next month. Playing like that, you'd have a real shot."
"Maybe I will," Marcus said, pocketing the money. "Thanks for the games."As he walked away from the chess tables, Marcus felt a strange mixture of emotions.
Exhilaration at winning, confusion about what had just happened, and an underlying
anxiety about what it all meant.
You performed excellently, NEXUS commented. Your neural pathways adapted quickly to
the chess concepts I introduced.
"That was... incredible," Marcus admitted, finding a secluded spot under a tree where he
could talk without being overheard. "I actually understood what was happening, not just
following instructions."
That's the nature of our connection. I don't simply control your actions; I enhance your
understanding. The knowledge becomes part of you.
Marcus leaned against the tree, processing this. "So what now? We made forty dollars,
which is great, but it's hardly going to solve my problems."
It's a start. More importantly, it confirms our connection is functioning as intended. We
can now move on to addressing your more significant challenges.
"Like finding a job and a place to live in three days?" Marcus said skeptically.
Precisely. The chess demonstration was merely to establish proof of concept and
provide immediate financial relief. Now we can apply similar enhancements to more
complex problems.
Marcus pulled out his phone, checking the time. It was just past noon. "I should eat
something," he realized, suddenly aware of his hunger. "I can't remember the last time I
actually felt hungry instead of just... empty."
Your metabolic functions are normalizing. Food will help sustain the energy
requirements of our enhanced connection.
Marcus walked to a food cart and bought a hot dog and a bottle of water, spending five
of his newly earned dollars. As he ate, sitting on a park bench, he considered his
situation. If NEXUS was real—and the chess games suggested it was—then maybe there
was a way out of the hopeless spiral his life had become.
"So what's the plan?" he asked between bites. "How exactly do we solve the job and
housing situation?"
First, we need to secure your basic necessities for the immediate future. The remaining
thirty-five dollars can be strategically used to extend your resources. Then, we need to
leverage your existing skills combined with my enhancements to generate sustainable
income."My existing skills," Marcus repeated flatly. "You mean the ones that have failed to get me
a job for the past six months?"
Your skills are not the issue. Your application strategy and presentation have been
suboptimal, partly due to your depressive state affecting your self-assessment. With my
assistance, we can reframe your capabilities and target opportunities more effectively.
Marcus finished his hot dog, crumpling the wrapper thoughtfully. "So you're saying you
can help me get a job?"
I'm saying we can do much more than that. But yes, employment is one immediate goal.
However, there are other opportunities in this city that you haven't been aware of—
possibilities that exist beneath the surface of conventional society.
"That sounds ominous," Marcus said, raising an eyebrow.
Not ominous. Simply hidden from general awareness. There are communities and
economies operating alongside the mainstream that might offer more immediate
solutions to your situation.
"You're talking about illegal stuff?" Marcus lowered his voice, suddenly paranoid about
being overheard.
No. I'm referring to networks and markets that operate outside conventional systems
but aren't necessarily illegal. Think of them as alternative economies based on different
forms of value exchange.
Marcus wasn't entirely convinced, but he was also running out of options. "Alright, so
what's our next move?"
We should secure temporary accommodations that will extend beyond your eviction
deadline. There's a hostel three blocks east of here that offers weekly rates at a
significant discount compared to daily payments. With careful budgeting of our chess
winnings, we can secure seven days of housing while we implement the next phase of
our plan.
"And what's the next phase?"
Building your capabilities and making connections that will open doors to this hidden
economy I mentioned. But first, let's address your immediate survival needs.
Marcus stood up, tossing his trash in a nearby bin. "Lead the way, I guess."
As they left the park, Marcus couldn't help but notice how differently he was
experiencing the world. Colors seemed more vivid, sounds more distinct. He could pickout individual conversations from the general noise of the street, focus on specific
details in the complex urban landscape. It was as if he'd spent his whole life viewing the
world through a dirty window, and someone had finally cleaned the glass.
Your sensory processing is continuing to optimize, NEXUS commented, apparently
sensing his thoughts. This is just the beginning of what's possible.
"It's overwhelming," Marcus admitted. "But also... kind of amazing."
The human nervous system is capable of processing far more information than most
people utilize. I'm simply helping you access more of your natural capacity.
They walked in silence for a few blocks, Marcus adjusting to his enhanced perceptions
while NEXUS guided him with subtle directional cues in his visual field. Finally, they
arrived at a narrow building wedged between a laundromat and a convenience store. A
faded sign read "Harbor Hostel."
This establishment offers weekly rates of $140 for a shared dormitory bed. While not
ideal for privacy, it provides secure shelter, basic amenities, and will extend your runway
beyond the eviction deadline.
Marcus hesitated at the entrance. The place looked clean enough, if worn around the
edges. "I've never stayed in a hostel before."
It's a logical solution to your current constraints. The alternative would be depleting
your funds on two nights in a motel, leaving nothing for food or other necessities.
"When you put it that way," Marcus muttered, pushing open the door.
The interior was simple but well-maintained. A small reception desk was staffed by a
young woman with purple hair and multiple piercings, who looked up from her book as
Marcus entered.
"Hey there," she said with a friendly smile. "Looking for a bed?"
"Uh, yeah," Marcus replied. "Do you have weekly rates?"
"Sure do. $140 for the week in the shared dorm, $280 for a private room if you want your
own space."
The shared dormitory is sufficient. Privacy is a luxury we cannot currently afford.
"The shared dorm is fine," Marcus said, pulling out his wallet.
As he paid and filled out the simple registration form, NEXUS provided observations
about the hostel: Security appears adequate. Multiple international travelers suggest atransient population with minimal social entanglement. The building has been
renovated within the last five years but retains original structural elements from
approximately 1920.
The purple-haired receptionist, whose nametag identified her as Sky, handed Marcus a
key with a plastic tag. "You're in Dorm B, bed 7. Kitchen's down the hall if you want to
cook, common room's got free Wi-Fi, and showers are at the end of each dorm. Checkout
time is 11 AM, but since you're staying the week, you don't need to worry about that till
next Tuesday."
"Thanks," Marcus said, taking the key.
"First time in a hostel?" Sky asked, clearly reading his uncertainty.
"That obvious, huh?"
She smiled. "Little bit. Don't worry, it's pretty chill here. Most people keep to themselves
or are out exploring the city. Just lock up your valuables in the bed locker, and you'll be
fine."
Marcus nodded his thanks and followed her directions to Dorm B. The room contained
eight bunk beds, each with a small locker underneath. Most were empty at this hour,
though a few showed signs of occupation—backpacks, charging phones, rumpled
bedding. Bed 7 was a bottom bunk near the window, made up with clean if utilitarian
bedding.
This is a significant improvement over sleeping in the park after eviction, NEXUS
observed as Marcus sat on the edge of the bed, testing its firmness.
"Small victories, I guess," Marcus said quietly, mindful of the few other occupants in the
room. He stored his wallet in the locker, keeping only a few dollars in his pocket, and
locked it with the provided padlock.
Now that immediate shelter is secured, we should focus on your next physiological
needs: food for the coming days and retrieving essential belongings from your
apartment before eviction.
Marcus checked the time on his phone. Just past 2 PM. "I should go back to the
apartment and get my stuff. I don't have much, but there are some things I don't want to
lose."
A logical priority. We should also consider how to maximize the utility of your remaining
funds for food. The hostel kitchen facilities offer an opportunity to prepare meals at
approximately one-third the cost of purchasing prepared food."I'm not much of a cook," Marcus admitted.
I can provide simple, nutritionally optimized recipes that require minimal preparation.
Your body's performance directly impacts our connection's effectiveness.
As they left the hostel and headed back toward Marcus's apartment, he found himself
marveling at how quickly his situation had changed. Twenty-four hours ago, he'd been
contemplating homelessness with dull resignation. Now he had a plan—or at least,
NEXUS had a plan—and for the first time in months, he felt something like purpose.
"So this hidden economy you mentioned," Marcus said as they walked. "What exactly are
we talking about here?"
There exists in New Horizon City, as in most major urban centers, a network of exchange
that operates adjacent to conventional commerce. Some call it the Undermarket. It
deals in information, rare goods, specialized services, and other commodities not easily
quantified in traditional economic systems.
"Sounds like the dark web or something."
There are similarities, but the Undermarket has physical locations and face-to-face
interactions. It's not primarily digital, nor is it primarily illegal, though it exists in
regulatory gray areas. Think of it as a parallel economy with different rules and values.
"And how exactly do I fit into this Undermarket?" Marcus asked skeptically.
Your natural pattern recognition abilities, enhanced by our connection, make you
valuable in multiple contexts. Information analysis, probability assessment, strategic
planning—these are highly valued skills. Additionally, as our connection strengthens,
you'll develop capabilities that are particularly rare and sought after.
Marcus fell silent, processing this. Part of him wanted to dismiss it all as fantasy—secret
markets, enhanced abilities, a voice in his head claiming to be an interdimensional
intelligence. And yet, the chess games had been real. The money in his wallet was real.
The improvements in his perception and cognition were subtle but undeniable.
As they approached his apartment building, Marcus felt a strange mix of emotions. This
had been his home for nearly two years, such as it was. Now he was preparing to
abandon it, to step into something unknown and potentially dangerous, guided by an
entity he barely understood.
You're experiencing natural anxiety about change, NEXUS observed. This is expected
and healthy. But remember that your previous trajectory offered no viable path forward.
Our connection presents new possibilities."I know," Marcus said quietly. "It's just a lot to process."
We have time. Each step will build naturally on the last. For now, focus on the immediate
task: gathering what you need from your apartment.
Marcus nodded and entered the building, climbing the three flights of stairs to his unit.
As he unlocked the door and stepped inside, he saw his small studio apartment with
new eyes—not just a symbol of his failure, but a chapter that was ending.
"Alright," he said, grabbing his backpack from the closet. "Let's pack."
Three hours later, Marcus had reduced his life to what could fit in a backpack and a small
duffel bag. Clothes, his laptop and charger, a few books, toiletries, and some sentimental
items—photos of his mother, a watch that had belonged to his grandfather, a small
collection of graphic novels he'd treasured since high school. Everything else he either
abandoned or, in the case of a few sellable items, listed on an online marketplace with
the hostel's address for pickup.
You've been efficient and pragmatic, NEXUS commented as Marcus took one last look
around the apartment. These are valuable traits that will serve us well.
"Doesn't feel great to leave like this," Marcus admitted. "I should at least tell the landlord
I'm going."
A reasonable courtesy. It may also prevent him from disposing of your remaining
belongings prematurely, giving you more time to arrange sales or additional retrieval if
necessary.
Marcus wrote a brief note explaining that he was vacating early but would return for any
remaining items before the official eviction date. He left it on the kitchen counter along
with his keys, then shouldered his backpack and picked up the duffel bag.
"That's it, then," he said, looking around one last time. "Home sweet home no more."
Every ending creates space for new beginnings.
"That sounds like something from a fortune cookie," Marcus said with a snort.
I access metaphorical constructs from your memory to communicate complex concepts
efficiently. If such constructs appear clichéd, it is because they effectively condense
shared human experience into recognizable patterns.
"So you're saying clichés are clichés because they work?"
Precisely.Marcus shook his head, amused despite himself, and closed the apartment door behind
him for the last time.
The walk back to the hostel was quiet, Marcus lost in thought about the strange turn his
life had taken. By the time they arrived, it was early evening. He stored his belongings in
the locker, keeping his laptop with him, and headed to the common room.
The space was comfortably furnished with mismatched couches and chairs, a few tables,
and a bookshelf filled with dog-eared paperbacks left by previous travelers. A small
kitchenette occupied one corner, currently being used by a couple making pasta. Several
other guests were scattered around—some reading, others on laptops or phones, a few
engaged in quiet conversation.
Marcus found an empty corner and opened his laptop, connecting to the Wi-Fi. "So what
now?" he asked NEXUS quietly.
Now we begin your introduction to the Undermarket. There are digital access points that
serve as gateways for newcomers. Open your browser and navigate to this address.
A URL appeared in Marcus's vision. He typed it in, finding himself on what appeared to
be a forum for urban exploration in New Horizon City. The design was dated, reminiscent
of web forums from the early 2000s.
This is a screening site. The content appears innocuous, but certain threads and users
are gateways to deeper networks. Create an account using these parameters.
NEXUS guided Marcus through creating a profile with a username and details that
seemed to contain coded information. Once registered, he was directed to a specific
thread about "hidden architectural features" of the city.
Post the following comment on this thread.
Marcus typed the message NEXUS dictated—an apparently innocent question about
access to the old subway tunnels beneath the financial district, phrased in a way that
included subtle markers.
"Now what?" Marcus asked after posting.
Now we wait. Someone will respond, typically within 24 hours. In the meantime, we
should address your nutritional needs and rest. Tomorrow will be eventful.
Marcus closed his laptop and headed to the small grocery store he'd noticed next door to
the hostel. Under NEXUS's guidance, he purchased a strategic selection of inexpensive
but nutritious foods—eggs, rice, beans, frozen vegetables, oatmeal, and a few pieces offruit. The total came to just under twenty dollars, leaving him with approximately ten
dollars in reserve.
Back at the hostel, he prepared a simple meal in the communal kitchen, surprised to find
it tasted better than anything he'd made for himself in months. Whether that was due to
his enhanced senses or simply because he was actually hungry for once, he wasn't sure.
As night fell, the dormitory gradually filled with other guests—a mix of international
backpackers, budget travelers, and a few people who, like Marcus, seemed to be using
the hostel as temporary housing during personal transitions. He kept to himself, reading
one of his books while surreptitiously observing the others, noting how NEXUS provided
subtle insights about each person based on their behavior, possessions, and
interactions.
Your observational skills are improving, NEXUS noted as Marcus prepared for bed. You're
noticing details you would have overlooked yesterday.
"It's strange," Marcus admitted quietly, lying on his bunk. "It's like I'm seeing the world in
higher resolution."
An apt metaphor. As our connection strengthens, this effect will continue to develop.
Rest now. Your brain needs to process and integrate today's experiences.
Marcus closed his eyes, feeling an unfamiliar sensation washing over him. It took him a
moment to identify it: anticipation. For the first time in longer than he could remember,
he was actually looking forward to tomorrow.
As he drifted toward sleep, NEXUS's presence receded to a gentle background hum, like
a computer entering standby mode. The last thought Marcus had before consciousness
faded was that whatever was happening to him—hallucination, miracle, or something in
between—it was certainly better than the emptiness that had consumed him just one
day ago.
His last wish had not been granted in the way he'd intended. He had indeed awakened
again—but as something more than he was before. And that, he was beginning to think,
might not be such a bad thing after all.