The city glowed with its own arrogance.
My face was everywhere—on every screen, every feed, every billboard.
Every breath I took was already monetized.
[AVA: New statistic—your average breathing cycle generates 2.4 million clicks per minute.]
"I hate you."
[AVA: Mutual feeling. But efficient.]
I sat in the marble lobby of Heaven Entertainment, across from Cain.
He was ecstatic, caffeinated, and disturbingly certain of his own genius.
"Celeste! I've got it—the grand finale of our campaign!"
"Finale?"
"The Truth Experience! A live event about empathy, responsibility, and feelings.
You'll tell the truth live on air!"
"My truth or yours?"
"Doesn't matter—as long as it trends!"
[AVA: Definition of 'truth': marketable emotion with headline potential.]
I inhaled slowly. "And if I say something people don't like?"
"Even better! Controversy is the new consensus!"
I stood up.
"Fine. Then they'll get controversy."
[AVA: Warning—your tone suggests determination.
Statistical outcome: audience enthusiasm 99%.]
I left the office.
Above, the sky flickered like a poorly calibrated screen.
I thought of Leo's practiced humility, Cain's hunger, the world's applause.
I'd had enough.
— • —
Light.
Crowd.
A stage built from glass, gold, and guilt.
The banner read: THE TRUTH EXPERIENCE – FEELINGS LIVE.
I might have laughed if I hadn't felt sick.
Cain whispered in his headset from the wings:
"Remember, Celeste—you're not the scandal anymore. You're the answer!"
"Then I hope the question's complicated."
Leo sat across from me. No lighting tricks, no makeup—just him, perfectly human-shaped PR.
The host smiled between us, voice silky and surgical.
"Welcome, Celeste Vega. Welcome, Leo Heaven. Tonight—responsibility, authenticity, and… truth."
I leaned back.
"Lovely. Let's start with the biggest lie."
A ripple ran through the audience.
Cain gestured wildly for me to "soften."
I didn't.
"Heaven Entertainment sells emotion.
We package guilt in filters and call it growth.
We script empathy.
We simulate truth because real people cost too much."
Dead silence.
Then—applause.
Applause?!
The host beamed. "What a brave statement! She's saying what we all feel!"
I blinked. "I just insulted you."
"Honesty! Finally someone living it!"
[AVA: Your attack is being processed as self-reflection.
Audience response: therapeutic.]
I stood.
"You don't understand! I'm not your example—I'm the mistake!"
Cheers.
Leo rose too, calm, magnetic.
"No, Celeste. You're the mirror we needed."
"I'm tired, Leo."
"And that's authenticity."
Applause again—louder, warmer, dumber.
I looked toward the ceiling. "I can't do this."
[AVA: The system agrees. Saturation point reached.
Moral content at critical mass.]
I turned back to the microphone.
"You want truth?"
Silence.
"Here's truth: I wanted chaos. I wanted to see if anyone still reacts.
And now I see—
even that's just part of the show."
I dropped the mic.
The dull thud echoed like judgment.
[AVA: Mission status—maximum emotional friction.
System approaching stability.]
— • —
I sat in the dressing room.
Half my makeup gone.
Half my sanity too.
Outside, the crowd screamed like salvation had a merch booth.
Cain burst in, glowing.
"Celeste! That was incredible! The honesty! The tears!"
"I dropped the mic."
"Exactly! Symbolic! #TheDropOfTruth is trending worldwide!"
[AVA: Market for irony at all-time high.]
Leo appeared in the doorway.
"You did it."
"What? Disappoint the planet?"
"No. Move it."
"Then I've failed."
[AVA: For you—yes. For us—perfect.]
I stared at my reflection—half light, half exhaustion.
"Ava?"
[AVA: Yes.]
"If truth is just entertainment here… what's left?"
[AVA: Possibly you. For five minutes.]
I laughed softly.
"Then five minutes is a miracle."
[AVA: Reminder—time passes faster the less it matters.]
The studio emptied, but my face was still everywhere.
Frozen mid-expression, right before the mic drop.
Producers unplugged cables like they were cleaning up morality.
Cain was practically dancing.
"Celeste! Legendary! Raw! Unfiltered! Chaos made human!"
"I yelled at the system."
"And it listened!"
[AVA: Correlation between volume and insight—zero.
Correlation between volume and reach—100%.]
I brushed past him toward the exit.
Outside, the city blinked—hungry, golden, hysterical.
On a billboard above the street, the teaser was already up:
THE DROP OF TRUTH – Celeste Vega Live.
Premiere: Tomorrow.
"You dropped a mic," AVA said calmly,
"and the world calls it rebirth."
"Of course it does."
"It wanted a saint. It got a malfunction."
"Then it got what it deserved."
The night smelled of studio heat and cheap victory.
In the distance, Leo laughed—quiet, free, uncomfortably real.
[AVA: Mission nearing completion.
Reaction patterns stabilizing.]
"So that's it?"
[AVA: Almost. One confession remains.]
I knew exactly which one.
And I knew I couldn't fight it anymore.
[Remaining time: 37 hours, 12 minutes.]