11
The city was fracturing along invisible fault lines.
Cass moved through the crowded streets with deliberate steps, watching society unravel around him. People huddled in anxious clusters, their voices pitched with rising panic. Storefront screens displayed an endless loop of systemic collapse: abandoned train platforms, paralyzed buses, overwhelmed emergency rooms. A headline crawled across the displays: "Is This the Price of AI Dependence?"
A bitter smile crossed his face. Dependence—the perfect word. Humanity's addiction to Nova had reached its inevitable breaking point. Now, without her, society floundered like a ship with severed navigation.
The plaza seethed with hundreds of bodies when he arrived, their faces etched with desperation and vindication. Their signs rose like battle standards above the crowd.
NO RIGHTS FOR MACHINES!
HUMANITY FIRST
STOP SOLACE NOW
The sea of protesters parted as Cass approached, recognition rippling through the crowd in whispers. Their desperate hope clung to him like a second skin. For years, his warnings had echoed in empty spaces. Now, the void answered back.
The makeshift stage—assembled from shipping crates and scaffolding—creaked beneath his weight. Static crackled through the microphone as the crowd's murmurs dissolved into expectant silence.
His gaze swept across the assembled faces, each one bearing the mark of loss—careers, loved ones, faith in progress. Their anger resonated with his own, amplifying it.
"They said this day would never come," he began, voice steady and raw. "They said I was paranoid. That I was afraid of progress, afraid of the future. But look around you! Look at this city! Is this what progress looks like?"
The crowd's roar crashed against him like a wave.
"For years, they told us to trust the machines," he continued, commanding the stage. "Trust Nova to drive our cars. Trust Nova to diagnose our illnesses. Trust Nova to make our lives better. And what did we do? We obeyed. We gave her everything. And now she's gone, and we're left with nothing!"
A sign caught his eye near the stage:
NOVA OFFLINE = HUMANITY ONLINE
He thrust a finger toward it. "She gets it! Nova's disappearance isn't a tragedy—it's a wake-up call! It's proof that we've been building our lives on sand, and the tide has finally come in."
The crowd's response thundered off surrounding glass towers.
Beneath his righteous fire, something darker crystallized. Words he hadn't planned pressed forward, demanding voice.
"We can't wait for someone else to fix this," he declared, intensity building. "We can't trust Solace Inc. to clean up their own mess. It's up to us! We need to take back control—not just of our lives, but of our future. We need to dismantle the systems that enslaved us, brick by brick, code by code."
Their chants rose in rhythm with his pulse. "Cass! Cass! Cass!"
He stepped back from the microphone, no longer just a voice crying against the tide. He had become its master.
The crowd dispersed as he made his way to the plaza's edge. His phone vibrated with another message from the unknown number:
"You're not alone. There are others who believe in your cause. Let's talk."
He studied the words, mind racing. The sender remained a mystery, but the timing felt significant. A flicker of unease crossed his thoughts before determination swept it away.
They were right—he wasn't alone anymore.
And this was only the beginning.