I don't like people knowing what I'm thinking.
Minds are dangerous… but people are even more dangerous.
I don't know if I've ever looked at people differently before. But the one thing I'm sure of is that since the bullying incident that happened to me in school—no, it wasn't really in school, because before that incident, I used to get beaten up by two older boys.
They took me to a nearby alley, so no one helped me. I was lying on the ground, calling for someone to come and save me, when a boy appeared, older than me but younger than the two who were hitting me. I asked him for help, but he just stood there. While I was being beaten and crying, that boy hit one of the boys, knocking him to the ground. The other boy ran to help the one who had fallen, and then the boy came and said,
"If you get that stick, I'll protect you from them."
"Huh?"
I didn't know what to do. I just kept looking at him and the stick, and then I did what he asked, and he kept his promise.
But what came next changed everything. Since then, I've treated people as if they were creatures ready to explode at any moment.
I would answer when called by name, smile when asked, and disappear when it was over. That was my life: hiding from others, going along with them so no one would notice me.
But for how long? This question has haunted me all this time. I don't know the answer. I don't know how it even crossed my mind in the first place. It simply appeared one day, nothing more.
I spent all my time at home from sixth grade until middle school. I only left for my final exams in the third year of middle school. I was homeschooled, studying online with teachers I'd never met in my life, but they always praised me, so I didn't feel the need to go to school.
I only knew the meaning of true friendship with Edgar. He's my only friend. And he's the only person besides my mom and dad allowed into my closed world, known as 'my room.'
My room is very simple, like any ordinary room. I have no hobbies other than reading and writing—not novels and things like that, but scientific materials and everything related to science. Science is simple and easy if you know the right way to approach it. Even in my room, there's no place I love more than my desk drawer. That's where I keep the things I don't want the world to see.
And the thing I most didn't want anyone to see… my thesis.
I wrote it one long night, without any intention of publishing it. It was simply an analysis of a hypothetical psychological model…
I didn't write it to win.
I wrote it to understand myself. I based it on the notes of a scientist I found in a trash can at a train station. Then I put it in the drawer and locked it. I thought that was enough.
But…
"Aaron… why didn't you tell me you could write like this?"
A chill ran through my limbs.
"Just ordinary writing."
My mother smiled. That smile she always knew what it meant. Something was coming, and this didn't bode well.
She smiled the way she tells others, "Keep your distance." I hoped nothing bad would happen.
Two weeks later, an envelope arrived. When I opened it, I read the contents:
"Congratulations! You won first place in the national dissertation competition."
I felt like someone had sucked the air out of my lungs.
Win?
I didn't even participate.
My mother looked at me with pride, and how could she not? If what she said was true, she was undoubtedly overjoyed. But this happiness would come at my expense.
No, I wouldn't accept this. I wouldn't become anyone's puppet, not even my mother's. I was content with my life as it was. So I looked at the door. I would go to my room and lock the door. I wouldn't open it for… depending on how much food I had stored. I could stay in my room for ten days. That was good. But what I hadn't counted on was my mother. She grabbed me from behind and said,
"We're going to the concert, and that's final."
Don't get me wrong, but sometimes my mother transforms into a merciless monster. I even tried to win her over with my innocent childlike face, but it didn't work. So I know what this means.
A stage.
Lights.
Applause.
Eyes.
Lots of eyes.
On the day of the concert, I wore a suit that didn't feel like mine.
Every step I took toward the hall brought me back to that day at school…
When they laughed.
When they whispered.
When I felt the ground was kinder than their faces.
The hall was enormous. The sound of applause pounded in my head like a heavy downpour. Every whisper felt like it was directed at me, even though I knew it was meant to be the opposite.
My hands trembled before I stepped onto the stage. I felt like every wall in the room was watching me. I wanted to disappear, to melt into thin air, but nothing happened.
"No one cares about you, Aaron…" I whispered to myself.
The world feels so much bigger than me. Everyone here seems stronger, smarter, and bolder… and me? I'm just a shadow avoiding the light, afraid of every hurtful word, every mocking glance.
Their whispers sounded like they were coming from giant speakers. Please be quiet.
"Is this the genius?"
"He doesn't look like it."
"Too quiet…"
I could hear some of the words that weren't said, maybe… but my mind was telling them to me.
When they called my name, I froze.
"Aaron—first place winner."
I didn't move at first.
I wasn't afraid of falling.
I was afraid of looking. If I looked up, they would see me. They would recognize me. The whole charade would start again. I would get hit again, but this time not with their hands. This time it would be with their words and their looks, and worse than that, this time it would be in front of everyone watching on screens. It's going to be a global event, whyyyyy?
I stepped onto the stage, and every eye in the hall felt like it was piercing me. As if they were waiting for me to make a mistake.
To stumble. To prove that I'm just another joke.
I finally reached the middle of the stage. That's how mountain climbers feel, then. With all due respect. A man stood in front of me; I couldn't look up to see what he looked like. But from the shape of his shoes, I knew it was a man.
The man extended his hand to shake mine and said,
"Your ideas about the Interactive Psychological System… were unprecedented."
I froze.
The Interactive Psychological System?
What is it? I haven't written anything about it. Where did they come up with it?
"Now let's hear about this system from its author himself."
People started clapping. What? A speech? Me? How did things get here? Everywhere I looked, there were countless eyes, countless eyes. Endless eyes.
"No, I don't want that."
Suddenly, I woke up in my room, looking around. This is definitely my room. Was it all just a dream?
Hahaha, hahaha.
I burst into laughter. I haven't laughed like that since… uh, I can't remember the last time I laughed. And as I thought about all this, I remembered something.
"The drawer. The thesis."
That's right. To prevent what I saw in my dream from coming true, I must ensure that no one ever sees the thesis, no matter what. So, I must do the only thing that will bring me peace from that dream: burn it.
I jumped up in a panic to check the drawer and found that the paper on which I had written the thesis was still there. Wow! I felt as if my soul had returned to me.
After opening the drawer and checking its contents, I was overcome by a strange urge to reread those papers.
I looked at a sentence I had written weeks before:
"Each person has their own unique way of interacting..."
But something strange happened. The words... were no longer the same.
They were moving across the paper, as if rearranging themselves, and then a new sentence formed:
"Each individual's psychological interaction system... can be measured, observed, and influenced."
No way.
This is impossible.
I didn't write those words. Oh, could what I dreamt be true... No, no, no.
I quickly tore the paper to shreds. I hadn't touched it since putting it in the drawer, and no one had seen it. How could the writing change on its own?
A few moments later, the paper I'd just torn was back to its original state.
Am I dreaming?
Zzzzzzzzz
My phone vibrated on the table. I went to see what was happening. I hadn't given my number to anyone, not even Edgar.
It was a message that read:
{Congratulations! You've been selected to try our new game, WAVE.X. We hope you enjoy it. To download the game, click on the link below: }}
What?