From the moment he could understand the world around him, Mark had the System. It wasn’t a voice, or a screen, or some sci-fi implant. It was just… there. A quiet certainty, a toolbox in his brain labelled 'Skills' and 'Knowledge'. It was utterly, ridiculously useful.
School? Child’s play. ‘Math Module: Grade 6’ – BAM. Three hours of focused activation, spread over a week. Suddenly, algebra was like breathing. His classmates struggled, furrowed brows and panicked whispers filling the exam hall. Mark? Top score, every time. Tom, his best friend, would stare, jaw slack. “Dude, you’re a freak,” was Tom’s usual assessment. Mark just offered that enigmatic shrug, ‘Natural talent, maybe?’ ‘Physics Module: Grade 10 (Advanced)’ – same story. Projectile motion, quantum entanglement, all absorbed, understood, regurgitated perfectly onto paper. Teachers praised, parents preened. He was the Golden Boy, effortlessly brilliant.
Beyond academics, the System bloomed. Summer boredom? ‘Guitar Skill: Beginner to Intermediate’. Five days, three hours daily. Week later, chords flowed, melodies emerged. Family gatherings turned into impromptu concerts. “Such a musical gift!” Aunt Susan would declare, oblivious to the ‘Gift Acquisition Protocol’ running silently in Mark’s mind. Yearning for a challenge? ‘Kung Fu Fundamentals: 7 Days Intensive’. Evenings at the dojo were… interesting. Instructors, veterans who’d dedicated decades, would eye him, puzzled. “You have an… unusual understanding of form,” Sensei Tanaka admitted, his brow deeply furrowed. Mark, the picture of casual disinterest, just adjusted his stance, ‘Beginner’s luck, I guess?’
It wasn’t just the grand skills. The System was granular. ‘Juggling: 3 Ball Cascade’. Just because. ‘Knot Tying: 10 Essential Knots’. Practical, maybe. ‘Basic Italian Phrases for Tourists’. For that hypothetical trip to Rome. ‘Persuasion Techniques: Level 2’ – subtly influencing parental decisions about curfew, dessert, video game time. He used ‘Creative Writing: Persuasive Essay, Grade A’ to pen essays that were lauded as ‘insightful’ and ‘mature beyond his years’, papers written in stolen hours between Call of Duty sessions and actual sleep. ‘Stock Market Basics: Investment Strategies’ for a school project that made his finance teacher blink in disbelief. He could explain derivatives with the casual air of discussing the weather.
Life was… streamlined. Efficient. Predictable. He became the reliable source of answers, the quiet genius who just knew things. Friends relied on him for homework help, family sought his advice on tech problems, teachers used him as a shining example. He was liked, respected, admired… from a slight distance. The System had built a subtle wall. Authentic struggle, the messy, glorious stumble-and-rise of real learning, became a foreign concept. He was navigating life on a pre-set course, guided by algorithms he didn't even consciously access.
One sun-drenched afternoon, park walk. Uncharacteristic, really. Parks were chaotic, uncontrolled variables. System preferred order. But sun was insistent. He ambled down a path, dappled light warm on his face, mentally reviewing ‘French Irregular Verbs: Masterclass’ for an upcoming test he hadn’t technically activated the module for yet, habit overriding conscious choice.
And then he saw her. Bench. Sketchbook. Auburn hair haloed by sunlight. Dog at her feet, a small, yapping blur of white fluff. She laughed, a sound like wind chimes in a summer breeze, talking to the dog, her brow creased in concentration on the page.
He froze. Not just beauty, though she was undeniably it. Something else. Warmth radiating off her like heat from sun-baked stone. Openness, vulnerability in the curve of her neck, the unguarded tilt of her head. Pulled in, like gravity itself.
He walked towards her, feet moving automatically. Closer, closer. She looked up. Honey-warm eyes met his. Smile bloomed, real, unguarded, gut-punch beautiful. Heart slammed against ribs, hard, unexpected.
“Hi,” he croaked, voice foreign. Clumsy. Unpracticed.
“Hello,” she replied, voice music. “Lovely day.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, utterly, stupidly captivated. “Amazing.”
Talked. Art. Dogs. Squirrels. Nonsense and substance all tangled up. Clara. Vet student. Passionate, funny, sharp. Listened to every word. Actually listened. Not processed, analyzed, filed. Just… listened. Present. Hours vanished. Laughter shared, stories exchanged, genuine connection sparked.
Sun dipped, shadows lengthened. Had to ask. “Clara,” voice hesitant. “Coffee? Tomorrow?”
Smile widened. “Love to, Mark.” Knew his name. Didn’t even register asking.
Evening arrived. Mark sat down at his desk, automatic pilot engaging, his mind instinctively reaching for ‘Quantum Physics: Advanced Level.’ It was routine. He mentally clicked the menu for the module. Nothing happened. Silence descended, a profound absence where the familiar hum of the System usually resided. A blank space echoed in his mind. He clicked again, harder, willing it to activate. Still, silence. Panic spiked, sharp and cold, a jolt of pure ice through his veins.
He frantically tried other modules, desperate to find any sign of life. ‘French Vocabulary’. Silence. ‘Guitar Chords’. Silence. Even ‘Persuasion Techniques’, the module he'd used to navigate everyday life with subtle ease. Dead. All of it. Gone. The System was gone.
He stared at his mental interface, now a barren landscape where a vibrant ecosystem of skills and knowledge had once thrived. Dead. Utterly, completely dead. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence in his mind. Glitch? Recharge? He tried to force activation, willing the System to respond, to flicker back to life. But only silence answered, heavy, absolute, mocking his desperation.
Lost. Terrifyingly, utterly lost. The System – partner, crutch, weapon, identity – gone. Stripped bare, he felt exposed, vulnerable in a way he'd never known.
Then… Clara. A sudden, vivid image: her laughter, her smile, the warm honey of her eyes. Her. Had she done this? This unexpected, overwhelming connection? This alien, overpowering feeling – was this what had shattered his System?
He didn’t know. He didn’t understand. But in the silence where the System had once roared, demanding his attention, something unexpected shifted. The sharp edge of panic began to soften, replaced by… something else, more complex. Vulnerability washed over him, raw and unfamiliar. Uncertainty coiled in his stomach. Fear, cold and primal, settled in his bones. And yet… underneath it all, a faint flicker began to glow. Not hope, not yet defined, but something undeniably new was stirring within him. Something that felt terrifyingly real, and utterly, devastatingly alive.
Of course The System crashed.
