Chapter Seven: Mechanism Current

I trace my fingers over the open invitation on my screen one more time. The letters feel warm under my touch—like they’re alive.

I take a breath and click “Accept.”

This is it.

This is my destiny calling.

With my mind plugged straight into the internet—I will find the solutions they swear don’t exist, perfect my revolution plan, design farms, whole communities, schools that don’t crush kids’ spirits…

My mind races ahead of me.

“Ring, ring.”

I see it’s “Concordance University”. I answer the call.

The video call connects. A man’s face snaps into focus—he looks at me with bright eyes that seem too big for his face.

“Hey there! I’m Joseph. Dr. Faroque’s on vacation, but I’m stoked to walk you through this.” He leans forward, his grin practically spilling out of the frame.

“Violet, this tech could literally change everything. You think about something—anything—and boom, your screen serves up exactly what you need. Not just the obvious stuff, but buried articles, obscure research—everything.”

I nod along, getting swept up in his energetic current.

“But here’s the crazy part,” Joseph says, eyes bulging. “Your device reads your neurotransmitter levels. It knows what interests you before you do. Conscious and subconscious desires, all of it. We’re turning regular people into geniuses—perfectly aligned with their purpose.”

Purpose. The word lands like a spark in dry grass.

Is he secretly spiritual too?

Is he also trying to save humanity?

His face glitches out, staying still on the frame in the shape of his pixel perfect smile.

My heart pounds.

I’m going to be on the frontline of a new frontier.

“So here’s how it works,” the screen unfreezes as he gestures wildly, “You take a metal tablet—we call it a mechanism.” He holds up a regular-looking white pill. I have to strain my eyes to make out the word stamped on it—“Probability”.

“It’s loaded with graphene nanotech. It flows through your bloodstream and connects to your neurotransmitters. Your brainwaves become like a radio transmitter, and your device picks up the signal.” I just stare.

This is literal alchemy.

Chemical magic.

“The internet becomes perfectly tailored to your personal will!” his high-pitched voice squeaks.

The timing of this is too synchronistic to ignore.

The universe chose this for me.

He uploads a virtual waiver to the screen.

I don’t even read it.

I just sign.

The time is now.

“Perfect! I’m sending your mechanisms in the mail right now,” Joseph says, too assured, as if he’s been practicing in a mirror. Then he just… logs off.

Was that abrupt? I don’t care.

I float, allowing the current to take me. I don’t doubt the universe, or question the current that brought me here.