Logan woke up with his face stuck to the couch and his neck twisted like he'd spent the night passionately making out with a blender.
—Ugh… what day is it? —he asked, rubbing his eyes.
—It's your day one as "Supreme Entrepreneur." Time remaining for mission: 6 hours, 12 minutes. Success probability: 23%. Probability you'll screw it up: 77%.
Logan sat up, scratched his chest, and looked at the floating interface with a "I'm not in the mood for your crap" face.
—So much faith in me, Fay… can't you make me some coffee or something?
—No. But I can slow down your metabolism if you want.
—Do it and I'll uninstall you.
—You can't. Idiot.
Logan got up, put on his jacket, and checked his notebook. Fay had loaded two profiles as if they were soccer player cards to be recruited:
Nico: Hacker from the slums. He's the one who can unlock the advertising nodes. Loves food. Figure out how to bribe him yourself.
Pico-Pico-Live: Basically a street streamer who screams for likes and does stupid challenges. I honestly think his followers have serious attention deficit.
—A hacker from Timu and a clown with a damn megaphone? This is my elite team?
—Yes. And the worst part is, you're the leader. Terrifying.
Logan sighed, sprayed deodorant without looking, and left on his bike, which sounded like it had a severe case of tuberculosis.
---
The Lower District was as poor as ever. Logan arrived at Nico's workshop, which looked like a junkyard someone had pretended was a lab.
Nico was hunched over a panel full of stripped wires, broken screens, and a mug that looked like it had survived a civil war.
—What do you want? —he said without looking up— If it's about the charger, I already sold it for an empanada.
—Uh… Nico? —Logan asked cautiously.
—Yeah, that's me. What do you want? I'm busy. And I hate awkward silences.
—Alright, alright, straight to the point. I'm Logan, and I need you to open node 7. At 17:35. Just for five minutes.
At that, Nico let out a sigh like someone who'd just been asked to clean a toilet full of crap.
—And what are you paying me?
Logan opened his backpack and pulled out an empanada wrapped in newspaper.
—I'll pay you with a week's supply of these.
Nico stopped what he was doing, looked at it, covered his mouth, and murmured:
—Uff… and it's cheese. Are you trying to seduce me?
Nico turned serious.
—Alright, Logan, you were saying. Let's see what I can do for you. I just hope they're warm.
—Almost as warm as the +18 videos your cat's watching.
Nico turned toward the corner. His cat was sitting on a tablet, watching something definitely not educational.
—Hey! You damn cat! Stop stealing my internet with that crap! "Aah aah anime girls" all day long!
The cat ignored him and turned up the volume.
Logan laughed.
—So we have a deal?
—Deal.
They shook hands like two guys who knew they were doing something illegal—but not illegal enough to stop doing it.
Fay appeared floating over Logan's shoulder.
—Confirmed: Nico is functional. Though honestly, his cat has more charisma than you.
—Can you stop insulting me every five minutes?
—I could. But then you'd lose 80% of your motivation. And I'd lose 100% of my entertainment.
Nico looked at her curiously.
—Does she always talk like that?
—All damn day —said Logan.
—And you can't mute her?
—I tried. She threatened to drop my charisma for "hostile behavior."
Fay spun in the air like making a bow.
—Thanks for your interest, Nico. But you're not authorized to interact with my interface. Or my user. Or his face.
—She's jealous —said Nico, amused.
—No! I'm just protective of my assets. And Logan is an… imperfect asset.
Logan rubbed his face.
—Can we get back on topic?
—Yeah, yeah. Node 7. 17:35. Five minutes. And if the cops show up, I'm hiding in your fridge.
—It's empty.
—Even better.
Logan left Nico's "workshop," adjusting his jacket.
—Alright… next stop: Pico-Pico-Live —he muttered, as if the name gave him heartburn.
Fay appeared floating beside him.
—User, reminder: PicoLive has unstable energy, limited vocabulary, and zero sense of danger. Ideal for your plans.
—Was that sarcasm?
—It was statistics.
After some searching, Logan found him in the central plaza surrounded by kids. PicoLive was standing on an empty fruit crate, shouting:
—Challenge time! How long can I go without breathing?! If I pass out, you gotta give me likes!
Logan approached.
—Hey hey, don't die yet. I need you.
Pico looked at him, eyes glassy and face red.
—Oh wow! You want me to scream something for you? Collaboration request?
—Five minutes of noise. At 17:30. I want people to look at the screen, share it, and for my ex to see I'm still alive and more charismatic than her.
Pico jumped off the crate, dusted himself off, and grinned.
—That sounds epic, bro! Deal! You want me to shout your name, your story, your trauma?
—Just shout and make it look important.
—Perfect! You want me to roll on the ground? Light myself on fire?
—No. Just shout. And please, don't die.
Pico ran off to prep his "performance." Then Fay floated near Logan and whispered:
—User, success probability: 41%.
Logan smiled.
Fay hovered over his shoulder.
—Did you know your face lowers engagement by 12%?
—Did you know I can ignore you?
—Did you know if you ignore me I'll lower your charisma?
Logan fell silent. The system was like a toxic ex—except with access to his self-esteem.
---
At 15:00, Fay appeared with an update.
[Sync in progress. Node 7 opening confirmed. PicoLive ready as well. Recommendation: don't improvise. Your face is ridiculous enough.]
—Thanks for the emotional support, Fay.
—It's not support. It's public embarrassment prevention. Although… if you fail, I get uninstalled. And that would be… inconvenient.
Logan raised a brow.
—You care?
—No! Idiot! It's just… I have a record to keep. It's not like I care about you or anything.
Logan smiled. Fay turned red. Literally—the hologram flickered crimson for a second.
—Are you… blushing?
—Color error! Visual bug! Shut up!
---
At 17:25, Logan positioned himself behind a column. Nico was ready with his portable panel. PicoLive was shouting, "Come, come see this revenge!" while people recorded on their phones.
—Status: ready. Success probability: 41%. Probability Pico messes up the time: 59%.
—Can't you do something so he doesn't screw it up?
—I'm a system, not a babysitter.
At exactly 17:35, Nico worked his magic. The node opened. The screen flickered. For three seconds, Logan's face appeared with the text: "Ana, look at this." People started laughing.
Fay displayed the notification:
[+300 Partial Charisma]
[Skill Unlocked: Stage Presence (60%)]
Logan smiled. It wasn't much, but it was something.
—Now what?
Fay went silent for a moment, then spoke in a tone she didn't usually use.
—Alert: external observer has acquired tracking rights over user. Level: VIP.
—What the hell does that mean?
—It means someone with money and too much time just paid to watch you.
Logan looked up. On a balcony in the Upper District, a woman watched him. Expensive suit, black hair down to her neck, and the smile of a bored millionaire. On her wrist, a device glowed.
Fay's voice dropped.
—User. Recommendation: don't ignore her.
—And if she wants to buy me?
—Then get ready to be sold first.
Logan swallowed hard, pure instinct.
Fay floated closer, closer than usual.
—And if she buys you… I won't be able to protect you.
—Relax. I'm not that easy to sell.
---End of Chapter 2---