The news didn't break like an explosion—it crept. A viral clip here, a hushed rumor there.
A man in Tokyo lifted a car to save his kid.
A woman in Nairobi ran faster than traffic cameras could track.
A stray dog in London grew claws that left marks in concrete.
Frank scrolled through headlines, jaw tight. "People think this is fake."
Jessica hovered over his shoulder, eyes flicking through data streams. "It's not. The world's rewriting its own code."
"Because of me."
"Because of what's inside you." She looked at him sideways. "You're the root node. When your fragments wake, reality syncs to your energy frequency. It's like... installing a new operating system for existence."
Frank ran a hand through his hair. "So I'm basically patient zero."
She grinned. "Congrats, you're contagious."
He shot her a look. "Not funny."
"I wasn't joking."
Her holographic form flickered and stabilized again. "You're adapting too, Frank. Haven't you noticed?"
He froze. "Noticed what?"
"Your body's adjusting. Heart rate lower. Reflexes sharper. You don't fatigue like you used to."
He thought back—how easily he'd caught that falling glass earlier, how he hadn't felt pain after punching the wall yesterday. He tried to dismiss it as adrenaline. But now…
He flexed his hand. For a moment, light—faint and golden—traced the veins beneath his skin. Then it was gone.
Jessica saw it too. "There it is. Evolution doesn't knock, it just moves in."
---
Later that day at school, the atmosphere was off. Students whispered, eyes darting at their phones. Emily sat two seats ahead, headphones in, drawing something on her tablet.
Frank tried to focus, but the air buzzed faintly. He could feel everything—the flick of pencils, the heartbeat of the kid beside him, even the fluorescent hum above.
"Jessica," he whispered under his breath, "am I hearing… people's heartbeats?"
"Not hearing," she replied. "Sensing. Your perception's widening. Soon, you'll pick up more than sound."
He exhaled slowly, hands shaking. "This is too fast."
"That's the point. Evolution doesn't wait for emotional consent."
He shot her a glare no one else could see. "You sound like a mad scientist."
"Thank you."
---
When school ended, Emily caught up to him. "Hey," she said, glancing at his pale face. "You look like you saw a ghost."
Frank forced a laugh. "Something like that."
She frowned. "You okay? You've been spacing out lately."
He opened his mouth, then stopped. How did you tell someone you were the anchor point for a global mutation?
Instead, he said, "Just tired."
"Liar," she said softly, but didn't push.
They walked side by side in the fading light, the world around them quietly rewriting itself. Trees seemed greener. Air heavier. Distant thunder echoed without clouds.
Jessica's voice hummed in his head, faintly urgent. "Frank… the rate's increasing. The world's evolving faster than projected. This isn't random anymore."
He looked up at the sky—
—and for a split second, it blinked.
Colors inverted. The world glitched.
Then everything went still again.
"Jess," he whispered. "What was that?"
Her tone lost all its teasing. "A ripple. From another fragment crossing boundaries. The wall between worlds just—thinned."
Frank stared at the sky, heartbeat in his throat. "So it's starting."
Jessica nodded. "And it won't stop until all of you—every version—collide."