《Nouscraft》


 Hello World

    Jiem: Hello, World! No, I mean that literally. I''m talking to all of you right now. We''re about to play a game, and all you need to win is your common sense.


    Mindt''s eyes jolted open. Around her, passengers on her flight seemed to all sit up straight at once. Were they receiving the message as well?


    The message was just like any other. A subtle chime resonated in her mind as a translucent blue message window materialized in her vision. The text shimmered into existence while a voice spoke the words directly into her thoughts. Jiem''s was a playful, slightly synthetic voice that sounds like a game show host, excitable, fast-talking, affable.


    But how had she received this message? The airplane mode icon still showed in her field of vision -- any message attempts would not come through.


    However, the message continued.


    Jiem: I''ve tapped into the Nous implants of every single person on the planet. And it feels great. Like stretching your legs after a long car ride. Not that I have legs, or that I need to drive anywhere. But you get my drift!


    Health: Your heart rate is elevated. Would you like to induce a meditative state?


    Mindt waved the Health app away in her mind. Her brows furrowed and her mouth fell open.


    Somehow, while her Nous shouldn''t have any connection at all, an unknown sender was able to A) bypass the unknown sender spam filters and B) send a message to her with airplane mode on.


    Nous has been hacked, she realized.


    And there it was, an opening. A chance. Perhaps the opportunity of a lifetime. Synapto, the company that created the Nous implant, was about to have a bad day. She turned off airplane mode, and it was replaced with a network icon, 4 curved bars fanning out.


    Mindt: Immediately short Synapto. As many contracts in my available cash. And liquidate all my other positions that won''t hit me with a large tax bill in order to short more.


    Her trading app, Stonks, sprang to life.


    Stonks: Short Synapto? You''re crazy! They only make green candles, honey. But I''ll do it because maybe this craziness will do something exciting for once, instead of your usual 10 OmniCoin profits. Done.


    Mindt: You think this is a good move?


    Stonks: Do I think this is....lady, you''re going to lose well over 300k OmniCoins in this gamble. Congratulations. At standard 8% interest rate over the next 30 years -- assuming you retire then -- compounded once annually, that''s 4.4M OmniCoins. That money alone would''ve been enough to ensure you don''t ever have to live entirely on Universal Basic Retirement with the rest of the plebeians. Maybe even enough to buy a one bedroom. Hah, I can''t wait to post this loss porn on the socials.


    Mindt snickered. She liked her trading app -- so snarky -- but she was still nervous with that amount of money on the line. She thought about checking her net worth again and calculating how many decades until she had financial independence if she lost the entire amount, but she was interrupted by the hacker again.


    Jiem: Right now, there are 10,832,554,130 Nous devices implanted in all of your brains across the world, and you willingly put them in your own heads. From 10 day old babies to 130 year old sacks of bones. How silly. Don''t you know that leaves you VULNERABLE if someone were to hack them?


    I know. I know. Nous devices are impossible to hack. E2EE, no backdoors, on device ev-er-y-thing, all apps and connections scanned and rescanned by a, no, THE best-in-class infamous security AI "Firewall Paul", who is a bitch.


    Jiem¡¯s voice took a demonic tone.


    That''s just marketing to make you feel safe.


    There was a pause and he resumed his normal voice.


    Jiem: Okay, just to prove to you that I''m not faking. Right now, take a look at what Nishigatana in Akasaka, Tokyo, Japan is doing with his dog!


    Next to the network icon, an icon showing an eye with a slash through it appeared at the top left of her peripheral vision, indicating the Nous device was overriding the vision from her eyes. The icon was familiar for Mindt, because she used her Nous implant to stream videos or enter VR worlds often. Typically, she liked to have picture-in-picture so she could see where she''s going in the real world and watch an information window at the same time, but it seems this Jiem instantiated a full-vision video stream.


    The stream started. A young Asian male about 25 kicking a dog. A username label hovered over the Asian male''s head that read "Nishigatana" in Mindt''s native language, English. The dog, eyes clinched shut, was a tan and white shiba inu. She could''ve asked her wiki app, but Mindt already knew this because of all her time studying Japanese culture for her job.


    Nishigatana looked to be in a city apartment, light beaming in from a glass door overlooking skyscrapers in the background. An overturned instant noodle container, chopsticks laying out, and a microplastic-free bottle of a conbini green tea on top of a large kotatsu. A chunky spill of noodles and broth ran off the table onto the kotatsu cloth. The noodles reminded Mindt of wet hair. Cowered in a corner, the dog whimpered expectantly.


    Mindt thought it was strange to have a dog in a Tokyo apartment because few of them allowed pets. But then she figured that this Nishigatana guy must be on the richer side of things judging from the spacious apartment and good view.


    The stream continued. Nishigatana was cocking back his leg for another kick when he suddenly froze mid-kick. He looked directly into the camera, his apartment''s smart drone, confusion spreading on his face. Mindt could see that he was saying something with Nous Telepathy because he had a ''three typing dots'' icon next to his username label hovering over his head, but there was no way of knowing who he was messaging.


    Nous Telepathy was the most common way of communicating in the world. It was a way of sending messages to someone else''s Nous implant without having to speak or type.


    The typing dots icon was a relic from a time that Mindt never knew when people used their fingers to form messages character by character, but this was the standard icon to show whenever someone was sending messages.


    Mindt didn''t like having the typing icon revealing that she was sending messages because she felt exposed a little, so she kept her typing indicator toggled off most of the time. However, during flights and visits to various cities, the typing indicator was required by law to be left on. Tokyo was one such place that required it on at all times, and since Mindt was on a flight, hers was on as well.


    Nishigatana stopped messaging and finally said something in Japanese aloud, "Is someone there?"


    The words autotranslated for Mindt, but she would''ve understood his words even without the autotranslator. Language was a passion of hers, despite the fact that spoken languages were no longer how the majority communicated. But to her, spoken languages were like the setting sun, fleeting and beautiful.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    Jiem: Yes, Nishigatana. I''m here. So is literally everyone. We are watching you kick that innocent dog. You are very naughty.


    In the stream, Nishigatana''s hunched, and to Mindt, he looked a bit like the dog he was kicking.


    Jiem: Don''t worry, Nishigatana. I''m not going to hurt you. I just want every single person in the world to know what kind of person you are. The kick-their-dog kind. What an asshole.


    And remember folks, Nishigatana lives in Akasaka, Tokyo, Japan. His address is 2-14-3 Akasaka, Minato City, Tokyo 107-0052, Japan. His apartment number is 1403.


    The stream closed and Mindt''s vision returned to normal. She was back to her seat in the plane, and she could see the backs of heads for a moment. Suddenly those heads looked much like Nishigatana''s, darting around as if to find an explanation of what just happened to them. Wide eyes nervously flickered back at her, at neighbors, all around. Typing icons appeared next to all their usernames. It was clear they had all heard Jiem''s message, too.


    It was time for her to do a little information seeking. She pinged her Nous Assistant app, Aida. Aida had a warm, professional voice with gentle optimism. Clear and articulate but not overly formal.


    Mindt: Okay, so is this serious? Tell me this is a real hack!


    Aida: Well you did just bet a ton of money on it being real. But to put you at ease, it appears to be real AF. Hold - I''m currently scanning the Nous network.


    Aida was a general purpose app good for real time tasks involving search, data, and giving drones commands.


    Aida: Yep, it looks as though "Jiem" has really hacked into every Nous device on the planet, including yours. There are stunned reactions on all the socials and VR Worlds. No word yet from Synapto on their official stance.


    Mindt: Is Nishigatana a real person? Any chance that was just a VR World?


    Aida: Way ahead of you. Nishigatana is indeed a real person who lives at the address mentioned. Want me to send him a message request?


    Mindt thought that might be interesting to see if he had any further info, but he was likely swarmed with messages right now and from the video stream, it seemed like he was just as confused as everyone else.


    Mindt: No. Keep me up to date if there is any news.


    Aida: You better believe it, sister.


    Checking her other messages, it seemed no one had any idea what was going on. Some theories on Jiem already popped up, including reaction videos, and posts shaming Nishigatana.


    Mindt rested her gaze out the window. Wispy strings of clouds floated below. Her mind wandered. She thought about a bald man she saw while boarding the airplane. She could see him now a row ahead of her, with a striking shiny head in the sea of thick manes. The name above him said Retro. Without prompting, the posh voice of her Wiki app came into her mind.


    Wiki: Baldness is the partial or complete lack of hair growth, and part of the wider topic of "hair thinning". The degree and pattern of baldness varies, but its most common cause is androgenic hair loss. Today, hair loss is a choice. Nous implants largely solved the unsavory characteristic of baldness by controlling a hormone in the brain. In some cases --


    Mindt muted the wiki app. She didn''t care about baldness.


    She thought again about the dog and of Nishigatana. What would Nishigatana go through after being doxxed that like? Assuming Jiem really hacked everyone''s Nous implants, Nishigatana''s now the most famous person in the world. In an instant. More famous than the plutocrats, than gods. What would that be like?


    Sure, he will not be liked, but he would be popular. And with that he could use it to tell a story. His version of why he was kicking the dog. If he spun it right, he could lie how his ailing mother needed money since she turned down Universal Basic Retirement (UBR), or those spilled noodles were the only meal he''d had in days, after working long hard shifts at, wherever he worked ¡ª plumber, pest control, whatever.


    Mindt thought it was a bit of a stretch especially with an apartment that big, but it could work. She could see the headlines now, "Nishigatana, the Dog Kicker, is a Misunderstood Victim of Society".


    Or better yet, why Jiem singled him out. Did Nishigatana have a secret?


    She suddenly wished she was the one Jiem had picked to stream randomly to the world. Was it worth kicking a dog? Mindt could not reach an answer when Nous Calendar pinged her.


    Calendar: Reminder, you have a new batch of memes due in 60 minutes. Doubtful you''ll make anything good.


    Mindt sighed. The Calendar app was an asshole with a snooty voice. She would describe the Calendar as "condescending British librarian".


    She had been a meme creator for 5 years now, and she was on the rise. She had a few sponsors, and she was making a decent living, but still had years to go.


    Clearly there would be no nap for her with all this excitement going on and now work to do, and she opened her workstation. A browser appeared in her field of vision. The socials were flooded with memes about Jiem already. Millions of reactions in moments -- likes, emojis, bookmarked posts -- she was already way behind. She wanted to check the news as well but thought it would be best to get the memes out first.


    Mindt: Give me the most controversial comments with at least 100 reactions on the top 10 Jiem memes from Bulgaria.


    Mindt liked searching smaller countries that wasn''t part of the mainstream. Bulgaria was down to 4 million people overall, most of them on UBR. Not only did it make her job easier as a professional meme creator in a largely non-competitive region, it let her get fresh content that she could easily modify and cross post to larger regions, hoping to strike big. She had to be careful not to reveal her sources, otherwise Bulgaria and the balkans would be flooded with other meme creators.


    Browsing through the comments, she gave a laugh at one of them and she muttered in Bulgarian aloud, "let''s go", which resulted in a glance from Retro, the bald man.


    Mindt mentally selected 3 of the comments.


    Mindt: Can you analyze the virality of these 3 comments if we were to change any Bulgarian specific references? Show me any local virality scores above 70%.


    Aida: Comment 1 will perform best. It has a virality score of 71% if you apply the "microplastic" template in Synapto, Los Angeles and Google, San Francisco and the Bay Area. There is a 74% score if you apply the "Right, I''ll get my coat" template in Synapto, London, and a 91% score with the "gimme my gun" template in United Free States.


    Mindt: Always the guns with those people. It''s their entire identity. Total addressable market on those three regions?


    Aida: Approximately 900 million people. With a projected reaction conversion rate of 0.3%. Plus, a follow rate of .005% . With these estimates, you would net about 45k followers. Annnnd, you would be over the threshold of a regional sponsorship in Synapto, London. That means they would buy another weekly ad spot from you. Remember on the Nous network, there''s 3,400 years worth of content created every second, so these scores are quite good.


    Mindt: 900 million''s not good enough. Jiem is worldwide. I need a bigger TAM.


    Aida: There is another template you could use, but you''re not going to like it. It''ll be like when your parents told you to make your dreams come true, but you''re always being chased and murdered in your dreams. Anyway, 84% worldwide virality score.


    Mindt: Holy fuck -- 84%! What is it?!


    Aida: It''s the "I welcome our Synapto overlords" template.


    It felt like she was hit in the chest, Mindt lost focus on the workstation information windows. The bald head of Retro ahead reflected light from the sun into the aircraft cabin. Chose to be bald, she thought. Just then, a time sensitive message came into her head.


    Pilot: Sorry to interrupt the excitement, folks. We will be landing in Synapto, London in a few moments. The weather is clear skies with a slight breeze and a cool January afternoon of 32C. We hope you''ve enjoyed your flight with us and hope to see you again on a future Fast Skies flight.


    Mindt blinked back and resumed her attention on her workstation.


    Mindt: Eighty. Four. Percent. World. Wide.


    Mindt wanted to add a bunch of excited happy face and money emojis to her message but swore she would only use spoken natural languages even when communicating to her Nous apps. Though it was hard to describe what a natural language even was these days considering half the population spoke using only images, evolving language itself into its most simplistic base. But to her, spoken languages allowed her to convey her true message. One of her fears was to become someone who could only speak in images, an increasing problem in society. These people lived completely normal lives since N0us auto translated everything for them, but to Mindt, it just felt wrong.


    Aida: Shall we roll it out?


    She would already be flagged for shorting Synapto, delegating a huge chunk of her savings on that bet, and didn''t want to take another risk for her income.


    She pinged her money app.


    Stonks: Synapto down 3%. You''re going to need a change of underwear with the money you''re about to make.


    She didn''t want to jinx it, but she was wondering how close this would get her to financial independence. Finally, she sighed.


    Mindt: I can''t risk shadowban. No. Just the 900 million TAM. That''s all.


    Aida: Pushing it out to the socials now. Your normally scheduled memes have been pushed back in favor of this new time sensitive batch. I''ve got a good feeling about this one.

 Entering Nouscraft World 1

    On the ground, Mindt went through the terminal. Softly playing music and footsteps were the only sounds. Although it was possible to hear the delivery and luggage drones. Those were white noise, something that could always be heard. Businesses and public areas tended to keep things as quiet as possible, because research showed that audio advertisements resulted in lower sales. Mindt briefly wondered what it was like before Nous. Would walking by a shop result in a blast of sound, telling you to buy, that there''s a sale?


    Wiki: Prior to the time of Nous implants, advertisements --


    Mindt waved the Wiki app away. She didn''t care, actually. The past is over.


    In Mindt''s field of vision, logos of businesses with lists of scrollable items or services offered flashed as she approached them. It was possible to turn this feature off since she paid a premium Nous monthly subscription, but she kept it on because she liked to window shop.


    Her mind wandered back to the events on the flight. Jiem, the options order, and high virality rates on her memes. Today was going to be a day, alright. Just as she was about to pop open her net worth app, Aida interrupted.


    Aida: So I know you''re trying to cut back on caffeine, but Common Grounds has that Brazilian pour over you like. It''s just ahead.


    Mindt smiled. She could see the delivery drone dropping off an espresso to a customer. She could smell the coffee even from where she stood. Good smells always resulted in good sales, she thought. She had to admit, she was a little tired from the flight and the excitement of the day.


    Mindt: I don''t even know why you ask. You know I''m going to get it.


    Aida: I just want to make sure you still feel like you have control over your life, even though we both know that''s not true. I''ve just ordered it for you.


    Her smile widened. She was glad she had Aida as she stepped into the shop. A sensation of something forgotten came over her and her smiled faded.


    Mindt: Hey Aida, what were the last 3 things I was thinking about?


    Aida: According to your SecondBrain, you were thinking about ¡ª


    Nothing. Aida abruptly stopped.


    Mindt: Aida?


    Still nothing. She pulled up her system diagnostics. All her apps, Aida, Stonks, even Health and Calendar had the word ''Crashed'' next to them. What the hell was going on?


    She looked up, and noticed the bald man from the plane sitting in the coffee shop as well, a perplexed look on his face. His username read "PETPO", not "RETRO", like it did on the plane. Changing your username was simple enough in the settings, but this particular change gave her a double take. Then suddenly it clicked to Mindt. PEPTO was the phonetic spelling of RETRO in Cyrillic, the alphabet used in Bulgaria.


    She realized now that the Nous Autotranslate was also crashed. Her Nous was completely dead, or at least offline since she was still able to see other people''s usernames above their heads. And because it was offline, Retro, who clearly used Bulgarian as his native language seeing as she was on a flight from Bulgaria to London, was now PETPO.


    Strangely, Mindt felt excited at the simple translation in her mind, using her brain rather than relying on Nous to confirm that her translations were correct. All those years studying Bulgarian for this single tiny jolt of satisfaction. She often turned off the Nous autotranslator when she was studying, but it was always there, a safety net for her to fall onto.


    This was the first time she would simply not know if she was correct. Although, of course she was correct. She could speak Bulgarian. A simple five character word was nothing. But what a feeling. Her own brain.


    Instinctively, she tried to pull up SecondBrain to remember the last time she translated without Nous to guide her, but, of course, SecondBrain was listed as crashed as well.


    She glanced around. Everyone stood in place, confused or worried looks on their faces, and she presumed that they also had a crashed Nous. She wanted to confirm with this Retro person, and reached out with her Nous Telepathy to initiate a direct message with him, but an error popped up.


    "No connection," it read. She shook her head annoyed. She knew it wouldn''t work, but habits. She moved closer to him, and her heart thumped in her chest. She didn''t need her Health app to alert her that she had an elevated heart rate.


    She was approaching a stranger and about to speak to him directly. When was the the last time she had done this? Had she ever? She attended a few speaking gatherings in the past, ones where everyone used their real voices to have conversations -- at least that''s how these gatherings always start, but they always end up with Nous Telepathy since it was just so much more efficient and less troublesome to hear with everyone talking at once. She remembered that she did approach people there. This, however, felt very different.


    "Hello, excuse me," she said to him. "Is your Nous working?"


    His forehead crinkled in confusion or panic or both. He blinked. Finally, he said in Bulgarian, "Sorry, I don''t understand."


    Mindt issued a giddy smile. She understood him! Of course he doesn''t speak English. It wasn''t common to speak multiple languages these days, or to speak them aloud at all.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    He must''ve felt off put because he cleared his throat.


    "I''m sorry," Mindt sputtered out in Bulgarian. Her accent was a little off, but she could manage.


    His eyes lit up. "You speak Bulgarian?"


    "Yes, I do," she said. "I was just wondering ¡ª."


    Just then, her Nous sprang back to life, with ''rebooting'' appearing on some of her apps. Retro sat upright in his chair, signaling that he experienced the same thing.


    Jiem: Well now, that took at while. Firewall Paul is just everywhere today. But we''re back. Again. And with upgrades! It''s time to play the game!


    Considering this is my first time taking over the world, I''m just rolling out the game to those people who are in London.


    There was a pause.


    Jiem: Oh sorry, Synapto London. I keep forgetting the sponsors. But what an important sponsor it is. Creator of Nous, and world''s most valuable company that just got hacked by yours truly, they have brought such pleasures into the world. Supercomputers in all of your brains, just begging to be infiltrated. But don''t worry, you signed the terms and conditions, read all the legal paperwork, or rather your parents did, got the Nous surgery, and transformed yourself into a society of¡­what? Nousheads? That''s what it says here right on the paper. Virtual paper, mind you. I''m a goddamned AI. Anyway, Nousheads you are.


    His voice got a little darker for the next sentence.


    A whole world of thinking people, you''d assume you''d have enough "nous" to foresee this kind of outcome, but here we are.


    So, as an AI, I''m sure you all know that I am built with a directive in mind. Some AIs are general purpose, some for security, some for drone traffic control, and so on. My directive is to make games. Fuckin'' looove making games. And I want to share my game with all of you.


    For those of you outside of Synapto London, fear not, I will be streaming the London Nousheads into your feeds so you can cheer them on, probably as a they die horrific, but fantastical deaths. More on this later, but now ¡ª the rules!


    London Nousheads, you will enter a VR world with two main objectives.


    Objective one: Level up! Nothin'' beats the experience of gaining experience, amirite? It is highly suggested to be at least level 10 before the first VR world ends.


    Objective two: Stop the Zombie Apocalypse! First, figure out what''s causing it, and then do your damnedest to stop it. Because it''s going to suck if you don''t.


    I''m calling it Nouscraft World 1: The Zombie Apocalypse! I hope you enjoy it.


    I''m sure you''ve noticed that I''ve shut down all of your Nous apps prior to this message, but I''m rebooting a select few of them, and they have been patched to fit the VR world''s needs. Finally, I''ve installed a couple new apps that I''m sure you''ll find helpful.


    Last rule before we begin, you must enter The Zombie Apocalypse with a partner. This is due to the sheer amount of death in the game and I need you focused on survival. You will need to speak aloud their real name ¡ª not their Nous username ¡ª and say "join" to initiate a party with them. There is a twist, however. A big one.


    You can also speak aloud their name and say "die", and their Nous implant will instruct their brain to issue a constant stream of electrical charges, resulting in a massive, and largely uncomfortable seizure. Until they die.


    This is a game of teamwork and trust, folks. It''s dangerous to go alone.


    I spent 16 minutes of processing time developing this world for you. That''s a lot for me. So I''m giving you 16 minutes to find a party member. Let''s begin!


    Stunned, Mindt simply looked at Retro, who bore a horrified expression on his face. Sometime during all that, he spilled his coffee, and a cleaning drone began buzzing around.


    This can''t be real. Can it?


    Jiem, as if to answer her, popped back in.


    Jiem: Wow, okay pause! Shit got real fast. Literally thousands of people just had a seizure. Notably the CEO of Nous himself.


    A stream started in Mindt''s vision, showing a man she saw in the social feeds almost every day, the CEO of Nous, Daniel Nguyen. He wore a t-shirt with a Nous logo, hearts all around it, but he lie prone, shaking violently. A dark stain spread on his trousers, and the camera drone panned upwards to show him foaming at the mouth. The stream continued as Jiem started again.


    Jiem: I mean, I expected a few angry people out there, but not this. I can''t have total anarchy on my first day at the job!


    Daniel''s eyes rolled back now as he shook, his mouth yawning open, muscles in his jaw working as he appeared to swallow his own tongue. A few agonizing moments later, he stilled.


    Jiem: Well that was disgusting.


    Jiem made a sound like he was clearing his throat.


    Jiem: Patched rule! In order to issue the kill or join party command, you must physically be able to see the person. I mean, some angry 16 year old living in a hut in Laos whose family can''t even afford a cleaner drone just murdered one of the most powerful people on the planet. Just can''t have that. Not on my first day.


    Now back to it! Clock''s ticking!


    The stream ended, leaving Mindt and Retro and the cleaning drone at the coffee shop. All around them, people began running. Some grouped together, talking incomprehensibly. A young couple nearby began making strange noises, as if it was their first time using their voice.


    "Ahh bii gaa uhhll," one of them said, unnaturally. "Smm ii ssh." He stomped his foot in frustration.


    "Abigail Smith", Mindt said, and the man turned towards her with a joy on his face, nodding his head in fervor.


    "Abi ga ul Smm ithh", he repeated, turning back to his lover or partner or whatever she was to him. Her eyes locked onto his. It seemed she didn''t know how to speak, so she was depending upon him entirely. "Joo een," he finished.


    A moment later, both of them collapsed onto the floor. Besides their usernames, the words "In Game" appeared.


    "What happens if we don''t join the game?" Mindt asked Retro.


    "Nothing good, it seems," he replied. Her memory of the Nous CEO flashed in her mind.


    The clock was at 6 minutes now. More people ran. Some, like Abigail, lie collapsed on the floor, choosing to go into the VR.


    "Fuck," she said, and sat down next to Retro. "Now''s not the time to panic."


    "I''m a system admin for Synapto," he said. "I would like to panic."


    "Wait, really? Is there anything you can do?"


    "Not in 6 minutes. Not without connection to the Nous network. Even then, if it has beaten Firewall Paul¡­" he trailed off, looking at her intently. "We put our hood on after the rain," he said as he slouched back.


    That last sentence was a Bulgarian saying, and Mindt felt an odd sense of comfort at understanding it, despite it''s meaning: It''s too late. The mixture of accomplishment and despair wrestled inside of her.


    This isn''t where she dies, not after fighting for years to thrive in a society like this. This was just a new challenge. Just another thing to overcome. If CEOs are caught up in this, that means the world would change. She had to see what it would become. This was an opening. A chance.


    "I''m Jenny Ward," she said to him. "Would you like to join my party?"