Hey guys, what's up? I hope everything is going well. Everything is great over here.
As for our second story, I can say that its subject matter falls into what is probably my favorite genre. It's really fun to create this style of content.
A new technology is on the verge of development. A young programmer is living his life with his friends, and the world is truly on the brink of entering a strange new threshold. This story, which deals with Peter's struggle with his family and the events unfolding, could keep you entertained for a good while.
Oh, by the way, I need to add something: At one point in the story, there's something I call the "Traveler." I was inspired to include it by that comet named ATLAS, which you might have heard about. It was something that closely interested space observers and certain groups a while ago. I was inspired by that very ATLAS—which we now know for sure what it was, following interesting headlines like "Are aliens coming?" or "What will this object do, what's happening?" and the clear explanations that came after. The rest of the story is probably similar to content you're familiar with from many other stories.
General warnings: Anyone can read the story; I designed it to be suitable for a general audience. However, if there are people with different moral understandings or sensibilities, or if they are truly highly sensitive, they might want to approach it with caution.
Other than that, I wish you happy reading.
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Florida's humid, heavy air hit the face of every student emerging from the ice-cold, air-conditioned lecture hall of the Florida Institute of Technology like a slap. That moment felt like stepping from one dimension to another; from a controlled, sterile environment into a living, breathing, and utterly exhausting chaos. Petter squinted, adjusting the strap of his backpack on his shoulder. The sun, filtering through the palm trees, created white, shimmering patches on the campus's beige concrete paths. The final words of Professor Albright's "Software Ethics and Digital Conscience" class were still spinning in his brain as if in an echo chamber: "The fingers that write a code are the fingers that trigger its consequences. Never forget, one line of an algorithm can reshape a person's life, or completely destroy it." Behind its simplicity, that sentence carried an immense weight, and it wasn't just the load of his backpack settling on Petter's shoulders.
He was jolted from his thoughts by the voice of his friend, Liam, mixing with the hum of the outside crowd. "For God's sake, was Albright going on about doomsday scenarios again? Every time I walk out of that man's class, I feel like a potential war criminal just for writing 'Hello, World'." Liam was, as always, sarcastic. He was a monument to casualness, with his faded, loose-fibered gray rock band t-shirt and cargo shorts. His face held that confident, dismissive expression that could reduce even the world's most complex problems into simple logic puzzles. As he brought the fogged can of energy drink to his lips, his eyes were weighing the seriousness on Petter's face.
Chloe, walking right beside them, was in a completely different mood. As an Art and Digital Design major, Chloe saw the world not as pixels and color palettes, but as emotions and interactions. She had gathered her wavy, chestnut-colored hair at the nape of her neck with a simple clip, and the flowing linen dress she wore seemed like a rebellion against Florida's suffocating heat. "I don't think he's exaggerating," she said in a soft but firm voice. "Especially considering what's been happening lately. The OPG leaks, for example."
There it was, the magic word: OPG. Octanos Prime Generations. The mysterious company that had been on the lips of the tech world—and gradually, even the mainstream media—for the past few months. They claimed to have created a completely realistic virtual universe that appealed to all the senses. It wasn't released yet; it was only in closed beta testing, circulating among company employees and their "lucky" relatives. But the few seconds of blurry screenshots dropped on the internet, the incredibly detailed "experience" posts written on anonymous forums, were enough to blow people's minds. No one was sure if these leaks were a controlled marketing genius or real scraps of information.
Liam let out a laugh. It hung in the hot air for a moment before dissipating. "Chloe, seriously? OPG could be the biggest technological leap in human history. This isn't the 'world-destroying' potential Albright talks about in his ethics class; this is 'new world-creating' potential. The guys are literally building a 'Matrix,' and you see that as a threat? I'd give my left arm to get into that beta." He took a big gulp of his energy drink, his Adam's apple bobbing noticeably. His eyes held that pure, almost childlike glint of someone in love with technology.
Petter chimed in, his voice calmer and more questioning next to Liam's enthusiasm. "That's the problem, isn't it, Liam? 'Creating a new world.' What about the old world? I mean this one, the one we're standing in, breathing in, sweating in? What happens when a corporation offers an alternative 'more real than reality' to billions of people? What if people stop working, if the streets empty, if real relationships become meaningless? That's what the professor was talking about. A line of code doesn't just start a game. It can reprogram society, the economy, the human soul." As Petter spoke, he was drawing invisible shapes in the air with his hands—an involuntary habit when he focused on a topic. His fingers moved as if trying to solidify the abstract concepts in his mind.
Chloe shot Petter a grateful look. "Exactly. Did you see the posts on ChronoFeed? An account, claiming to be the relative of a beta tester, wrote that the tester has only been sleeping two hours a night for the past three weeks, forgets to eat, and is starting to lose the distinction between the real world and the virtual one. Of course, there's no proof, it was instantly labeled 'fake news' and deleted, but... what if it's true?" The concern on Chloe's face became more pronounced as she walked on the sun-scorched concrete. Her expression was as if she alone could hear the tolling of a distant danger bell that no one else had heard yet.
Liam pulled out his phone. The bright light of the screen illuminated the shadowed part of his face like a ghost. His finger tapped the ChronoFeed app icon, and the feed began to scroll at a dizzying speed. "This is all speculation. Competitor slander. Look, here's a new post from OPG's official channel. Just a concept drawing." He turned the screen to his friends. The image was a breathtaking landscape. Under a sky of purple and orange hues illuminated by two suns, colossal structures that seemed to defy gravity—an interweaving of crystal and organic materials—floated in the air. A bright, green river flowed between these structures, stretching into infinity. The single-sentence text below the image read: "Your imagination is our starting point."
Petter felt a strange pang in his stomach as he looked at the image. It was a mixture of incredible admiration and deep-seated fear. As a programmer, he was aware of the genius behind building such a world from scratch, the millions of lines of code, and the superhuman effort. This was the pinnacle of art and engineering. But as a human, he couldn't help but wonder what this perfect, seductive beauty meant for his own imperfect, but real, world. At that moment, another of Professor Albright's sayings came to his mind: "The devil doesn't promise you fire and pain. He promises you everything you desire."
Chloe looked away from the image on Liam's phone and up at the sky, as if comparing that digital sky with the real, pale blue one above them. "This might be changing the subject, but..." she murmured, her voice distant. "Is there any new news about the 'Traveler'?"
"The Traveler." The name the scientific community had given to the unidentified object that had entered the solar system about six months ago. NASA and other space agencies had initially thought it was an ordinary comet or asteroid. However, closer observations had overturned all theories. The object was a nearly perfect sphere. Its surface was covered with a smooth, non-metallic material that absorbed and reflected light in a strange way, which no known telescope or spectrometer could analyze. The strangest part was its trajectory. It didn't seem to be affected by the gravity of any planet. It was moving with determination on a self-determined, incomprehensible course, as if it had a destination. Scientists didn't know if it was debris, a natural formation, or... something else. This uncertainty had created a wave of speculation on social media even bigger than the OPG leaks. Conspiracy theorists claimed it was an alien ship, while some religious groups interpreted it as a sign of the apocalypse. More scientific circles discussed whether it could be proof of a yet-undiscovered law of physics.
Liam scrolled a few more times on his phone. "Not much. According to JPL's latest report, its speed is constant. Its route is still uncertain. It looks like it will cross Mars's orbit, but after that, it's a complete mystery. Still zero information about its raw material. Some say its surface is actually some kind of camouflage field, preventing us from seeing inside. A complete black box." Even as he talked about this, Liam maintained that sarcastic tone. For him, this was just another interesting problem to be solved, not an existential threat.
Petter, however, felt differently. He saw a strange parallel between the internal, societal threat posed by OPG and the external, cosmic threat represented by the "Traveler." Both were unknown. Both had the potential to shake the concept of "reality" as humanity knew it to its core. One was a creation born from the depths of the human mind; the other was a visitor from the infinite darkness of the universe. He couldn't decide which was more frightening.
They had reached the front of the main campus library, where their paths would diverge. Liam would go into the library for his next class, and Chloe would go to the art studio. The sun was even more scorching now. The water sprayed by a distant lawn sprinkler momentarily created a small rainbow in the sunlight before evaporating on the concrete. The laughter of students, the sound of skateboard wheels, the muffled hum of a distant announcement... It all seemed incredibly precious and fragile to Petter at that moment.
"Well, I'm out," Liam said, tossing his empty energy drink can into the nearest recycling bin with a perfect shot. "And you two should stop being so gloomy. Maybe OPG is the next step in human evolution. Maybe that 'Traveler' is just a friendly alien bringing us free Wi-Fi. Relax a little." He winked and slipped through the library's revolving door.
Chloe turned to Petter. The cloud of worry on her face hadn't dissipated with Liam's departure. "Don't mind him," she said. "He can be too... pragmatic sometimes. But you think like me, don't you? Something... isn't right. It's like there's a strange electricity in the air."
Petter nodded. "Yeah. Like the quiet before a storm. Everything looks normal, but deep down, you can feel the clouds gathering."
Chloe smiled faintly. It was a sad smile. "Take care of yourself, Petter." And she, too, went her own way, walking toward the building that housed the art studios. Her flowing dress was like a colorful ghost among the concrete buildings and orderly landscaping.
Petter stood alone for a moment. The noise of the campus seemed to fade, and he could only hear the sound of his own breathing and his heartbeat. He took out his phone. The fantastic OPG landscape Liam had shown was still open on the screen. The purple sky with two suns... Then another news headline appeared in his notification bar: "Anomalous Energy Fluctuations Detected on the 'Traveler's' Surface." He clicked on the headline. The news was filled with technical jargon and meaningless graphs. But Petter's eye caught a quote from an astrophysicist: "It's as if... it's waking up."
He swallowed. In the forty-degree (Celsius) Florida heat, he felt a drop of cold sweat trickle down the back of his neck. He put his phone back in his pocket and started walking toward the bus stop that would take him home. Now, the campus noise, the faces of the people, the architecture of the buildings felt alien to him. As if they were all just props in a dream that was about to end very soon.
The ride home was as complicated as his thoughts. Staring out the bus's dirty window, he watched the transition from the manicured lawns of the wealthy neighborhoods to his own area of more modest, paint-peeling suburban homes. In front of every house, there was a story, a life. Kids' bicycles, untended gardens, faded flags hanging in windows... What a messy, what an imperfect world this was compared to the perfect, crystal cities OPG promised. But it was real.
When he arrived in front of his house, he got off the bus. It was a small, two-story, wood-paneled house, worn down by time and humidity. The geraniums his mother, Sarah, meticulously cared for were spilling over the front window sill. When he opened the door with his key and stepped inside, he was met by that familiar smell: a mix of his mother's lasagna and the faint scent of ozone and plastic wafting from his thirteen-year-old sister Maya's room. Maya was probably playing on her old console again.
"I'm home!" he called out.
His mother's voice came from the kitchen. "Welcome home, sweetie. Are you tired? Dinner is almost ready." The warmth in his mother's voice made him forget all the technological and cosmic anxieties of the day, even if just for a moment.
When he entered the living room, he found Maya sitting cross-legged in front of the television. She was furiously pressing buttons on the controller in her hand. On the screen, a fantasy game with old graphics was playing. Maya paused the game when she noticed him. Her face was flushed with excitement. "Bro! Did you hear? There's a new rumor about OPG! They're saying they're going to hold some kind of puzzle or contest to join the closed beta. A riddle hidden in the deepest corners of the internet! The first people to solve it will earn the right to get into the game!"
Petter looked at his sister's shining eyes. In those eyes, there were no ethical concerns or cosmic threats.
Only adventure, discovery, and the desire to step into a new world. Just like Liam.
Maybe they were the ones who were right. Maybe he was just a paranoid wreck, brainwashed by Professor Albright's classes.
But then, the phone in his pocket vibrated lightly. On the screen, there was an update to the news he had just read. "Energy Signals from the 'Traveler' are Forming an Irregular Pattern. Scientists Believe the Signals are Not Random."
Petter thought about the riddle his sister was excitedly describing, one that would unlock the door to a man-made virtual world, and on the other hand, the mysterious message coming from the depths of the universe, its meaning unknown. Two different calls. Two different unknowns. And he was standing right in the middle. He was startled by his mother's voice from the kitchen: "Petter, come on, wash your hands! The lasagna is getting cold."
In that moment, that lasagna felt like the most real thing in the world.
The warm, yellow light in the kitchen compassionately filled the scratches and signs of life on the wooden dining table. The air was thick with the hearty, reassuring smell of his mother's famous lasagna—garlic, oregano, and melted cheese. The gentle clinking of forks against porcelain plates was the only sound filling the house. Sarah, noticing the distant expression on her son's face, broke the silence. "How was school today, Petter? Did Professor Albright bring about the end of the world again?" Her voice held both loving sarcasm and genuine curiosity. The fine lines at the corners of her eyes became more prominent when she smiled, giving her face a tired but wise expression.
Petter smiled faintly after finishing the bite in his mouth. "Same as always, Mom. He won't stop until he's turned us into either ethical programmers or paranoid wrecks."
Maya, sitting across from him at the table, tried to talk with her mouth full. "What's paranoid mean?" Tomato sauce was smeared on the corner of her lip.
"It means someone with baseless fears, sweetie," his mother explained, wiping Maya's mouth with a napkin. "Like thinking there's a monster in your closet."
Maya rolled her eyes. "I don't believe in those anymore! Mrs. Davis taught us about mitosis today. Cells divide in two, just like us! That means I have lots of tiny me's inside me!" In her excitement over this discovery, she waved her fork in the air, and a small piece of pasta fell onto the table.
Petter laughed at his sister's pure enthusiasm. Daily news, school gossip, the miracles of cell division... This was the real world. None of those huge, complex, and frightening developments from the outside could seep into the small, sheltered universe around this table. For a moment, both the brilliant worlds of OPG and the dark threat of the "Traveler" were wiped from his mind. All that remained was his mother's smile, his sister's chatter, and the taste of the lasagna. He felt to his core just how precious this moment was.
After dinner was over and he had helped clear the table, Petter retreated to his own room. This was his sanctuary. Old movie posters and whiteboards scribbled with complex algorithms hung on the walls. The air in the room smelled faintly of books and the warm plastic scent from a running computer fan. He sat in his chair and woke his monitor from sleep. A labyrinth of dozens of windows and colorful lines of code appeared on the screen. This was his final project, and it would either make or break his GPA. Its name was "Narrative Engine v0.7." "Nar-En" for short.
This was much more than a simple text editor. The system Petter was designing was a software framework with a small but capable engine, aimed at making the work of writers and game developers easier. The user could create the main components of their story—characters, locations, plotlines, dialogues—as separate modules. The part Petter was working on now was the automation system that allowed these modules to connect. Like linking a "cowardly" trait in a character module to a "dark cave" trigger in an event module... The system could automatically generate possible outcomes and dialogues based on these connections. It was like a digital puppet master, connecting the strings of his puppets and giving them the ability to move on their own. As his fingers danced across the keyboard, his mind was completely locked onto the logical flow of the code. He was dragging color-coded function blocks one after another, weaving the digital neural networks between them, weaving the pattern of an invisible tapestry.
Just then, his room door flew open suddenly and loudly. Maya burst in, wearing a flowy, frilly dress in shades of pink and yellow. She was like a pixie, but much louder than a pixie. "BROOOOO!" she yelled.
This sudden explosion of sound and movement popped Petter's intense concentration bubble like a needle. The complex function he had just been working on evaporated from his brain. But he didn't get angry. He slowly swiveled his chair around. Maya stood in the middle of the room, looking at him with expectant eyes. In one fluid motion, Petter reached out, grabbed his sister by the waist, and pulled her onto his lap in one swoop. Maya let out a small, surprised shriek as she found herself in her brother's arms, right over the keyboard. Petter hugged her tightly to him and, with his free hand, began to rough up, almost knead, her soft, clean-smelling hair.
"What's wrong, my distracting little pixie?" he said, laughing.
Maya squirmed in his lap. "Bro, play with me! I'm so bored!" her voice was muffled against his chest.
Petter gently lifted his sister's head and looked into her eyes. "Is your homework done, young lady?"
Maya averted her gaze. "Almost... Just math left, but it's so boring."
Petter's smile widened. "I see. And do you just love games so much?" he said, pressing her head back against his chest and gently stroking her hair. The gesture was both a sign of affection and a moment of surrender. Maya, clinging to his t-shirt, murmured, "Yes..."
"Alright, what should we play then?"
Maya's eyes lit up. "Spin me around!" She tried to jump on his lap, but Petter was holding her so tightly that she could only wriggle like a fish.
"Alright, little fish, here we go," Petter said. He gripped his sister firmly under her arms, stood up, and kicked his creaking chair aside with his foot. He stood in the middle of the room, pulling Maya close. Then, he slowly started to spin. With the movement, Maya instantly wrapped her legs around his waist and let out a small shriek mixed with laughter. Everything in the room—the bed, the desk, the posters on the walls—blurred into a colorful vortex. One turn to the right, one turn to the left, then right again... When they stopped after three turns, both of them were slightly dizzy.
"More! More!" Maya shouted, out of breath.
"Nope, that's enough, or we'll both go crashing to the floor," Petter said, gently setting her down on his bed. But the game was just beginning. "Now it's time for shadow monsters!" Petter turned off the room's main light, leaving only the desk lamp on. The lamp cast a sharp beam of light on the wall. He put his hands in front of the light and moved his fingers to create huge, funny shapes on the wall. A talking wolf, a flying rabbit, a pecking duck... Maya was rolling on the bed with laughter, trying to answer his monsters with her own small hands.
After that, they played the "whisper hunt." Petter would whisper the name of an object in the room into Maya's ear, and Maya would have to find it using only "yes" or "no" answers. This simple game turned into a quiet chase around the room, full of giggles and excited guesses.
Finally, the little pixie was tired. When the energy for the- game ran out, she came and curled up on the lap of her brother, who was sitting in his chair again. She rested her head on his shoulder, her eyes slowly closing. The room was quiet now. Only the sound of the computer fan and the two siblings' calm breathing could be heard.
Petter sat like that for a while. This small, warm weight on his lap felt like the most precious treasure in the world. He leaned down slowly and touched his sister's tiny nose with his fingertip. "That," he whispered, "was for interrupting my very important project." Then he started to trail his fingers along her ribs.
Maya suddenly tensed like a spring. "Bro! Don't!" she protested, her sleepy voice dissolving into laughter as she was tickled.
Petter stopped tickling her but wrapped his arms around her more tightly. "That's for distracting me, sweetie," he said, and he leaned down to kiss her hair, and then her forehead, for a long moment. "And that... is because I love you."
Maya, still giggling, tried to wrap her arms around her brother's neck. "I love you too, bro," she said, and she hugged him as tightly as her tired body would allow.
A few minutes later, when Maya's breathing became regular, Petter gently lifted her from his lap, carried her to her room, and tucked her into bed. He planted another kiss on her forehead and quietly left the room.
When he returned to his own room, the code on the screen seemed less daunting, more meaningful. The innocent energy his sister had brought with her felt like it had cleared his mind. He sat down and got back to work. For a few more hours, amidst the clicking of the keyboard, he completed several more critical points of his project. The modules were now communicating more fluently, and the automation system was working flawlessly. Finally, he could no longer resist the weight settling on his eyelids. He put his computer into sleep mode, threw himself onto his bed, and fell into a deep sleep within seconds.