ã€ŠFractured Realityã€‹


 Illusion of certainty

    The classroom hummed with the faint static of the holo-board as teacher Lorn paced at the front. His coat shimmered under the soft blue ceiling lights, the NexusLink embedded in his temple pulsing gently as he spoke.

    "Science," he declared, "is the only tool that has ever lifted humanity out of ignorance.

    TheMyths,the superstitious¡ªrelics of a primitive mind grasping at the unknown."

    A hand shot up. Elias, leaned forward. "But isn''t science just another belief system? A different way to rationalize the unknown?"

    A murmur rippled through the class. Jaxon, seated near the back, sighed internally. He had heard this argument a thousand times. He already knew how this would play out¡ªpredictable, shallow rebuttals, all surface-level.

    Professor Lorn smirked. "Belief? Science is based on evidence. You don¡¯t ¡®believe¡¯ in gravity¡ªyou measure its effects. You don¡¯t ¡®believe¡¯ in evolution¡ªyou trace the genetic markers. Your argument collapses under scrutiny."

    Elias pushed back. "Yet science changes. What was ¡®proven¡¯ centuries ago is now outdated. What if what we call knowledge today is just temporary truth?"

    Jaxon finally spoke, his voice cutting through the debate like a scalpel. "You''re both missing the point. The real problem isn¡¯t whether science is absolute or if faith has answers¡ªit¡¯s the arrogance of assuming either side knows the full picture."

    Silence. The room tensed, as if recalibrating. Professor Lorn narrowed his eyes.

    "Go on," he said.

    Jaxon leaned back, indifferent. "I am still thinking about it honestly."

    The discussion moved on. But Lorn¡¯s eyes lingered on Jaxon, as if seeing something no one else did.

    ***

    Neon Lies in the Rain

    The rain came down in sheets, drumming against the pavement as Jaxon walked home, hands shoved into his coat pockets. His Neuralink flickered to life, unprompted, projecting a translucent display over his vision. The cityscape blurred behind it, neon reflections rippling in the puddles beneath his feet.

    BREAKING NEWS: POPULATION DECLINE REACHES CRITICAL LEVELS

    A holographic news anchor materialized in his periphery, her synthetic features eerily flawless. ¡°Experts warn that birth rates have plummeted. Humanity faces a crisis. We urge citizens to consider reproduction incentives¡ªour future depends on it.¡±

    Jaxon exhaled sharply, watching as curated statistics scrolled across his field of vision. Projected extinction within two centuries. Urgent measures required. It was the same recycled nonsense.

    Through the Neuralink¡¯s interface, he saw state-sponsored banners lining the streets¡ªdigital billboards layered over reality. A smiling family, arms around each other, captioned: Do your part. Another, with a suited executive, his Nexus 9 bodyguards in the background: A thriving population ensures a thriving economy.

    Bullshit.

    Jaxon knew the truth. The corporations didn¡¯t fear a declining birth rate¡ªthey needed more minds, more implants, more control. The more people born, the more Neuralinks installed, the deeper their influence stretched.

    He swiped a hand through the projection, dismissing it. The rain washed over him, cold and grounding. He kept walking, indifferent to the propaganda flashing in his mind.

    Drenched in Thought

    Jaxon walked through the rain, his pace steady, his mind restless. Water seeped into his collar, but he barely felt it. His Neuralink had dimmed the news feed, yet the echoes of propaganda still lingered in his head.

    He exhaled, watching his breath mix with the cold night air. ¡°How do people live like this?¡± he muttered. ¡°Just¡­ absorbing whatever they¡¯re fed. No questions, no resistance.¡±

    He kicked a loose stone on the pavement, watching it skip across a puddle. The reflections of neon billboards distorted in the ripples, just like the distorted reality they sold. Population decline. A crisis. He almost laughed. The real crisis was how easily everyone believed it.

    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s easier,¡± he mused. ¡°Let them do the thinking for you, let them decide what¡¯s real. No need to overanalyze, no need to resist.¡±

    He wiped the rain from his face, his fingers briefly touching the implant behind his ear. The Neuralink was quiet now, waiting for him to engage with it again. It was always there¡ªan ever-present link to the stream of controlled information.

    But he didn¡¯t need it. He saw through everything, and that was the burden. Watching the world repeat the same recycled narratives, seeing people around him convinced they were making their own choices when they were really just echoing a script.

    He sighed, stepping over a drain as water rushed past. ¡°They call it peace of mind. I call it sedation.¡±

    Jaxon¡¯s footsteps splashed against the rain-slick pavement, his mind spiraling into deeper thoughts. The city lights flickered above, casting a dull glow on the wet streets, while the hum of distant traffic buzzed like white noise in the background.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    How the hell did we get here?

    It wasn¡¯t just about the propaganda. It was deeper than that¡ªthis twisted reality where status and wealth dictated a person¡¯s worth. Where even something as fundamental as an implant, a supposed tool for connection and knowledge, had become a symbol of hierarchy.

    He glanced at his reflection in a store window, his own Neuralink barely visible beneath his damp hair. It was a standard issue¡ªfunctional, unremarkable. But for those who could afford the elite models, the experience was different. Enhanced cognitive processing, unrestricted data access, even sensory upgrades that made reality itself feel more vivid.

    When did intelligence become something you had to buy?

    He had seen it firsthand in class¡ªthe students with premium Neuralinks always a step ahead, processing information faster, responding with artificial confidence. Was it even their intelligence, or just another algorithm feeding them the ¡®right¡¯ answers?

    Is this what evolution looks like now? Not survival of the fittest, but survival of the richest?

    Jaxon clenched his jaw. People worshipped those at the top, mistaking privilege for superiority. As if wealth alone made someone more deserving of power. He had long accepted that the world wasn¡¯t fair, but some days, it felt beyond rigged¡ªit felt designed.

    The rain dripped from his brow as he exhaled sharply, stepping back into the darkness.

    Drowning in the Noise

    Jaxon trudged through the rain, the cold biting through his jacket. His Neuralink flickered in the corner of his vision, displaying the same tired headlines.

    "Global Population Decline Reaches Critical Levels."

    "New Policies to Encourage Growth & Stability."

    "The Future is in Our Hands¡ªSupport the Initiative!"

    Bullshit.

    He scoffed under his breath. It was laughable how predictable it all was¡ªyet no one seemed to question it. He swiped the feed away with a thought, but the irritation remained.

    "Everyone''s just eating this up. Like this is some great crisis when in reality, the only crisis is their bottom line."

    His voice barely carried over the rain, but it didn''t matter. No one was listening. No one ever was.

    He kicked a stray can, watching it skid across the pavement before disappearing into a drain.

    He wiped the water from his brow, his Neuralink pinging softly. A silent reminder that even his thoughts weren¡¯t truly private. Are they watching me now? Are my words getting flagged? He shook the thought away. Paranoia or not, the truth remained the same.

    By the time he reached home, his clothes were drenched, but he barely noticed. Stepping inside, the warmth hit him first¡ªthen the familiar scent of something cooking. His mother glanced up from the stove, barely sparing him a look.

    ¡°You¡¯re late,¡± she said, stirring a pot of stew.

    "Yeah," Jaxon muttered, kicking off his shoes. He ran a hand through his damp hair, still lost in thought.

    His mother turned, a smirk tugging at her lips. "You might not be an only child for much longer."

    Jaxon froze. His gaze flickered to the TV in the corner¡ªwhere the headline was still glowing.

    He exhaled sharply. "Of course."

    Jaxon let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. ¡°Right. Because that¡¯s what the world needs right now¡ªmore consumers, more data points, more¡ª¡±

    His father¡¯s voice cut through his words like a blade.

    "Jaxon."

    A single warning.

    He turned to see his father standing by the doorway, arms crossed, expression unreadable but firm. The same look he always gave whenever Jaxon thought too much.

    Jaxon exhaled, but he wasn''t about to let this slide. "You do realize this whole ''population decline'' thing is just manufactured panic, right? The corporations don''t care about birth rates. They care about implant sales. Every new child means a mandatory Neuralink, which means more data mining, more behavioral tracking¡ª"

    "Enough," his father said sharply. "You sound like one of those people."

    Jaxon narrowed his eyes. "One of those people?"

    His father sighed, rubbing his temples. "The ones who think they¡¯re smarter than the rest of the world. The ones who question everything just to feel superior. The ones who refuse to accept reality."

    Jaxon scoffed, his frustration boiling. "Reality? You mean the version of reality they let you see?"

    His mother, still stirring the pot, didn¡¯t look up. She never got involved in these debates. She never cared.

    His father, on the other hand, stepped forward, voice cold. "Not everything is a conspiracy, Jaxon."

    "And not everything is true just because it¡¯s repeated a thousand times," Jaxon shot back.

    A heavy silence filled the room.

    His father held his gaze for a long moment before shaking his head. "This is exactly why no one takes you seriously."

    Jaxon clenched his jaw. He could argue. He wanted to argue. But what was the point? His father wasn''t listening. He never did.

    So instead, Jaxon forced a smirk and shrugged. "Well, congratulations, then. Hope you enjoy the tax incentives."

    With that, he grabbed his plate, turned on his heel, and walked straight to his room.

    The chatroom was alive.

    [User: Cipher]: New broadcast just dropped. Same recycled headline.

    [User: Nyx]: Let me guess. Population Decline?

    [User: Cipher]: Bingo.

    [User: Jaxon]: They aren¡¯t even trying anymore.

    [User: Nyx]: Bro, they don¡¯t have to. People eat this up.

    Jaxon scrolled through the flood of messages. Someone had posted a clip from the news¡ªone of the corporate-controlled networks. A sharp-dressed anchor spoke with practiced concern:

    "Birth Rates continue to fall, raising concerns about the future workforce. Experts warn that a declining population could lead to economic collapse within the next century."

    Jaxon almost laughed. What economic collapse? More people meant more Neuralinks, more consumption, more control.

    [User: Helix]: Funny how they talk about ¡°decline¡± while licensing Nexus 9 in bulk.

    [User: Jaxon]: Exactly. They don¡¯t need more people. They just need more implants.

    [User: Cipher]: Controlled minds over uncontrolled masses.

    [User: Helix]: It¡¯s not about bodies, it¡¯s about processing power.

    Jaxon let that sink in. Processing power. The more humans were plugged in, the more data corporations had. The illusion of a crisis kept the system running.

    [User: Nyx]: Tell me why Nexus 9 got deployed in the last world war but now we¡¯re supposed to act like birth rates matter?

    [User: Cipher]: War¡¯s a business. Birth¡¯s a business. Everything¡¯s a business.

    [User: Jaxon]: They keep the numbers where they need them.

    Silence for a moment. The weight of the conversation settled. Then, a new message.

    [User: Helix]: So what¡¯s next? Elections are coming.

    [User: Cipher]: Same script, different actors.

    [User: Nyx]: You really think votes matter?

    [User: Helix]: They don¡¯t, but the illusion does.

    Jaxon exhaled, running a hand through his hair. It was all a loop. Every election, every crisis, every wave of manufactured fear¡ªit all fed the same machine. The only real variable was how many people saw through it.

    And even then¡ªwhat could they do?

    [User: Jaxon]: It¡¯s funny. The more you see, the less you can do.

    [User: Nyx]: Welcome to consciousness.

    [User: Cipher]: And yet, they still call us crazy.

    [User: Jaxon]: They call you crazy so you don¡¯t get listened to.

    [User: Helix]: Because the moment too many people get it, the game¡¯s over.

    Another pause.

    Then, an anonymous user joined. No username. No identifier. Just a blank space where a name should be.

    [???]: ¡­You¡¯re asking the wrong questions.

    Jaxon sat up, pulse spiking.

    [User: Nyx]: What?

    [User: Cipher]: New account?

    [User: Jaxon]: Elaborate.

    But the user was already gone. Their message lingered in the chat for a few seconds before glitching out.

    Jaxon stared at the empty space where it had been.

    Something about it felt¡­ off.

    The room was suddenly too quiet. The Neuralink interface flickered, just for a second. A static hum filled his ears.

    Then, everything returned to normal.

    The chat moved on.

    Jaxon didn¡¯t.

    He had seen glitches before¡ªbut not like that.

    He logged out. Sat in the darkness of his room, listening to the rain. His stomach twisted. What if they were watching?

    Or worse¡ªwhat if they weren¡¯t?

    What if whatever was watching¡­ weren''t them?

    ***

    Jaxon stared at the empty message log. You¡¯re asking the wrong questions.

    It gnawed at him, but the chat had already moved on.

    [User: Cipher]: That was weird.

    [User: Nyx]: Glitch? Bot?

    [User: Helix]: Nah. Someone watching.

    [User: Cipher]: Watching or warning?

    [User: Jaxon]: Both.

    Jaxon leaned back, exhaling slowly. His mind was running in circles. Too much information, too much noise. He had been here before¡ªlost in the labyrinth of knowledge, knowing too much and too little at the same time.

    [User: Nyx]: Anyway. Before that freak show interruption¡ª

    [User: Cipher]: Elections.

    [User: Jaxon]: Scripted.

    [User: Helix]: Rigged.

    [User: Nyx]: Profitable.

    [User: Cipher]: But the illusion must go on.

    [User: Jaxon]: And people will line up, thinking they have a choice.

    A tired laugh. Jaxon could almost hear it through the screen.

    [User: Nyx]: We all know the real elections happen behind closed doors.

    [User: Helix]: Six people. A round table. The gods.

    [User: Cipher]: Mars colonies, population engineering, war contracts. That¡¯s the real ballot.

    [User: Jaxon]: And Nexus 9 ensures compliance.

    Silence.

    It was too much for one night. The more they talked, the heavier Jaxon felt. None of this would change by morning.

    He stretched, rubbing his eyes.

    [User: Jaxon]: I¡¯m tapping out. Enough mental gymnastics for tonight.

    [User: Nyx]: Go touch grass, bro.

    [User: Cipher]: If there¡¯s any left.

    [User: Helix]: Sleep is a scam.

    [User: Jaxon]: So is free will.

    Jaxon

    logged out.

    His room was silent. The Neuralink interface dimmed. His head buzzed from the flood of information, but exhaustion overpowered paranoia.

    As he lay back in bed, eyes drifting shut, he had no idea what was waiting for him on the other side of sleep.

 Vision of the unseen

    Jaxon closed his eyes. Sleep came fast, but it never felt like rest.

    Darkness. Then¡ªlight. Cold, pulsating light. It flickers erratically, like a broken signal, distorting the fabric of reality itself.

    He was floating. Or falling. Or both.

    Then¡ªfootsteps. Slow, deliberate, yet coming from every direction.

    A figure emerged from the void.

    Jaxon froze.

    It was himself.

    Not a reflection. Not a clone. Something else entirely. A self that should not exist.

    ¡°You¡¯re late.¡± The voice was his, yet different¡ªlayered, detached, like an echo from across time.

    Jaxon tried to speak, but his words disintegrated before reaching his tongue.

    His other self took a step forward. The moment his foot touched the ground, the void shattered¡ª

    And suddenly, they were somewhere else.

    A battlefield stretched before them, spanning planets, galaxies, dimensions. Ships the size of cities hovered above, unleashing annihilation upon entire civilizations. Soldiers¡ªhuman, alien, something beyond classification¡ªfought wars that had raged long before recorded time.

    Jaxon¡¯s breath caught in his throat.

    His other self stared at the chaos, unbothered. Knowing.

    ¡°They fight over what was never theirs to begin with.¡±

    The scene shifted.

    A council of beings¡ªnot human, not machine, but something beyond comprehension¡ªloomed over a colossal map of existence itself. They moved entire realities like pieces on a chessboard.

    Jaxon¡¯s head throbbed. Who are they?

    His other self exhaled, the smallest hint of amusement in his voice.

    ¡°You already know the answer.¡±

    The world shifted again.

    A massive structure stood before them¡ªa monolith, pulsing with an energy that seemed to breathe. At its core, a single eye watched, unblinking.

    Jaxon¡¯s vision blurred. His body trembled, his thoughts unraveling¡ª

    ¡°You are not supposed to be here.¡±

    Jaxon turned to his other self, desperate for clarity. ¡°What the hell is this?¡±

    His other self finally looked him in the eye. And smirked.

    ¡°You¡¯ll figure it out.¡±

    The world collapsed.

    Jaxon woke up¡ªdrenched in sweat, gasping for air.

    It was 3:00 AM. His Neuralink flickered, notifications waiting.

    Without hesitation, he logged in.

    ***

    Jaxon leaned back in his chair, staring at the glowing interface projected directly into his vision. The Neuralink Nexus hummed in his mind, seamlessly connecting him to the digital chatroom. Conversations scrolled past in rapid bursts¡ªconspiracies, philosophy, underground tech leaks. But his fingers hesitated before typing.

    "Y''all ever had a dream so vivid it felt like... more?"

    There was a pause. Then the chat flared to life.

    [User:Hades]: Lmao, Jaxon, you good?

    [User:NullByte]: Damn bro, your subconscious has better world-building than Hollywood.

    [User:Satori]: Elaborate.

    Jaxon exhaled sharply and started typing.

    "It wasn¡¯t just a dream. It was structured, like something was showing me a history. Galactic wars, entities beyond human understanding, things that felt... ancient. And there was someone else there¡ªme, but not me. He was speaking in riddles, like he was guiding me through it."

    The chat went dead for a few seconds. Then, predictably, the rationalizers arrived.

    [User:Satori]: Sounds like a classic case of hyper-pattern recognition. Your brain took scattered memories, abstract fears, and concepts you''ve encountered and stitched them into a compelling narrative.

    [User:LucidOne]: Yeah, the subconscious does that. It''s designed to detect patterns, even where none exist. You probably read or watched something similar before.

    [User:Jaxon]: I don¡¯t remember anything like this.

    [User:NullByte]: That¡¯s the point. The brain is a messy archive. It retrieves and recombines stuff in ways you don¡¯t even recognize.

    A new message popped up.

    [User:DataPhantom]:Attaching article¡ª¡®The Neuroscience of Lucid Dreaming & Subconscious Scripting.¡¯ Read it.

    Jaxon opened the link. It explained how the brain processes information during REM sleep, creating elaborate dreamscapes from fragmented memories, suppressed emotions, and sensory impressions. The article even described cases where people "met" themselves in dreams¡ªan effect of self-reflection loops in the subconscious.

    His Neuralink flickered as he skimmed through the chat, thoughts guiding the scroll.

    [User:Jaxon]: So you''re saying this was just my subconscious playing a movie for me?

    [User:Satori]: Exactly. And a damn good one, apparently.

    [User:Hades]: Bro, drop the script in chat. Netflix might want that.

    Jaxon smirked, but inside, doubt lingered. The explanation made sense¡ªtoo much sense. Yet something about the vision felt too deliberate to be random. Too cohesive to be meaningless.

    [User:Jaxon]: "What if it wasn''t just my mind?"

    The chat instantly reacted.

    [User:NullByte]: Oh boy, here we go.

    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    [User:LucidOne]: Next, you¡¯re gonna say your ¡®other self¡¯ was a message from beyond, huh?

    [User:Satori]: Come on, Jaxon. We''ve been through this. Belief thrives in the absence of explanation. But you HAVE an explanation. No need to reach for mysticism.

    Jaxon let out a slow breath. He didn¡¯t believe in mysticism. But he wasn¡¯t fully convinced by science either.

    The debate raged on, but Jaxon¡¯s responses slowed. He wasn¡¯t going to win this argument¡ªnot here.

    [User:Jaxon]: Alright, I hear y¡¯all. Gonna crash. See you tomorrow.

    He logged out, staring at the ceiling in silence.

    Maybe they were right. Maybe they weren¡¯t.

    ***

    Jaxon groggily pushed himself out of bed, his muscles heavy with the weight of sleep. His room was a mess¡ªbooks stacked haphazardly, clothes draped over his chair, and the faint glow of his neural implant¡¯s interface still hovering in the corner of his vision. The same government-approved news scrolled across his display.

    "Population Decline Crisis ¨C Experts Urge Increased Birth Rates for Economic Stability."

    He scoffed. More bodies, more implants, more profit. Same script, different day.

    Dragging himself to the sink, he turned on the water, splashing his face before brushing his teeth. The mirror reflected tired eyes, dark circles deepening each night. He spat into the sink, wiping his mouth before pulling on his uniform¡ªa dull, standardized outfit embedded with an ever-present tracker.

    In the kitchen, the artificial scent of lab-grown bacon filled the air. His mother stood by the stove, flipping something on a pan, the only sound being the quiet sizzle of oil. The chair at the table sat empty.

    His father was already gone.

    Jaxon pulled out a chair and sat down, rubbing his eyes before muttering, "Morning, Mom."

    His mother turned slightly, giving him a tired smile as she plated his breakfast. "Morning, Jax. You slept late again."

    He shrugged, picking up his fork. "Had a lot on my mind."

    She sat across from him, watching as he started eating. For a moment, there was only silence, but then she sighed.

    "You know your father was almost late today?"

    Jaxon didn¡¯t look up. "Not surprising."

    "Jaxon." Her tone sharpened. "Do you even realize how hard he works to keep this family going?"

    He stabbed his food, pushing it around. "I never said he doesn¡¯t work hard."

    "Then act like it matters!" She leaned forward. "You sit here, questioning everything, doubting everything, but while you''re busy doing that, your father is out there breaking his back in a job that barely cares if he lives or dies¡ªjust to make sure you have food to eat."

    Jaxon exhaled through his nose. "And that¡¯s exactly the problem, Mom. Why should he have to break himself just to survive? Why should anyone?"

    She clenched her jaw. "Because that¡¯s how the world is, Jaxon. Not everyone gets to sit around debating what¡¯s fair and what isn¡¯t."

    He scoffed. "So what, I should just accept it? Accept that people like Dad are treated like disposable machines while the ones at the top live like gods?"

    She shook her head. "I just want you to appreciate what he does. Not everything needs to be a debate, Jaxon. Sometimes, you just need to say ''thank you'' and move on."

    He stared at her for a long moment, then sighed, pushing his plate away. "Tell him I said thanks, then."

    His mother sighed again, softer this time. "You can tell him yourself when he gets home."

    Jaxon didn''t reply. Instead, he stood up, grabbing his bag. "I gotta go."

    His mother watched him walk to the door, the tension still thick in the air.

    "Jaxon."

    He paused.

    "Just... don''t forget where you come from."

    He didn''t turn around. "I never do."

    Then he walked out the door.

    ***

    Jaxon walked down the rain-slicked pavement, hands buried in his pockets, his neural implant still flashing faint news headlines in his peripheral vision. His mind was elsewhere, replaying the argument with his mother, the weight of it lingering like an aftertaste.

    Then, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

    "You always look like you''re plotting world domination when you walk alone."

    Jaxon glanced to his side, immediately recognizing the speaker. "Morning, Selene."

    She fell into step beside him, smirking. "You sound thrilled to see me."

    "Just tired."

    Selene studied him for a moment, then nudged his shoulder. "Late-night existential crisis or just another deep dive into the void?"

    He exhaled, shaking his head. "Both."

    "Figured." She adjusted the strap of her bag. "So, what¡¯s today¡¯s topic of overthinking? The meaning of life? The illusion of free will? Or are we finally admitting that we¡¯re all just highly advanced meat puppets?"

    Jaxon chuckled dryly. "You joke, but you¡¯re not far off."

    She raised an eyebrow. "Alright, hit me with it."

    He hesitated, debating whether to actually explain or just brush it off. But this was Selene¡ªif anyone could keep up with his thoughts, it was her.

    Jaxon sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, but don¡¯t psychoanalyze me to death."

    Selene grinned. "No promises."

    He exhaled. "I had a dream¡ªor maybe it was something else. It wasn¡¯t like a normal dream. It felt... real. Too real."

    Selene¡¯s smirk faded slightly. "Go on."

    "I saw something¡ªgalactic war, beings beyond us, knowledge that felt ancient, forbidden. It wasn¡¯t just images; it was like I was there. And someone else was there too¡­ guiding me. But he spoke in riddles, like he was leading me somewhere, but never giving me a straight answer."

    Selene tilted her head, intrigued. "So, you met your wise old mentor in the astral plane? Classic hero''s journey setup."

    Jaxon scoffed. "Yeah, except I¡¯m not a hero, and this wasn¡¯t some feel-good enlightenment trip. It felt... unsettling, like I was being shown something I wasn¡¯t meant to see."

    She hummed thoughtfully. "And what did your mysterious guide actually say?"

    Jaxon hesitated, recalling the cryptic words. "¡®You are only awake in the moments they are not watching.¡¯"

    Selene stopped walking. "That¡¯s... creepy as hell."

    "Tell me about it."

    She crossed her arms. "So, let me guess. You woke up, jumped into the chatroom, and they told you it was just your subconscious throwing random nonsense at you?"

    Jaxon nodded. "More or less. They even pulled up an article explaining how the subconscious processes information and creates ¡®visions¡¯ based on memory fragments. It Sounds convincing, but I don¡¯t buy it."

    Selene smirked again. "Of course you don¡¯t. You wouldn¡¯t be Jaxon if you did."

    "Because it wasn¡¯t just a dream." His voice was firm. "It felt like a warning. Like something out there doesn¡¯t want me to know the truth."

    Selene tapped her fingers against her chin. "Alright. Devil¡¯s advocate time."

    Jaxon groaned. "Here we go."

    "What if it was just your subconscious? You consume a ton of conspiracy theories, hidden knowledge, all that jazz. Your brain could just be piecing things together in a weird, cinematic way."

    "Maybe." Jaxon admitted. "But what if it wasn¡¯t?"

    Selene¡¯s expression turned mischievous. "Then you¡¯re in deep, my friend."

    They continued walking in silence for a moment before she added, "But hey, just because you''re paranoid doesn¡¯t mean they¡¯re not watching."

    Jaxon chuckled. "That¡¯s supposed to be comforting?"

    "Not at all." She winked. "But if you are onto something, you better hope your dream guide knows what he''s doing."

    Jaxon scoffed, shaking his head. ¡°I¡¯m not crazy, Selene.¡±

    She smirked, unfazed. ¡°Did I say you were?¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t have to.¡± His voice was flat, but there was an edge to it. ¡°You think I don¡¯t notice? The way you entertain my words like a puzzle to be solved, but never actually consider them?¡±

    Selene rolled her eyes. ¡°Come on, Jaxon. You want me to just nod and say ¡®Yeah, bro, sounds legit¡ªdefinitely astral projection¡¯? I¡¯m giving you the courtesy of engagement. That¡¯s more than most people would.¡±

    Jaxon exhaled sharply, glancing ahead. ¡°I don¡¯t need courtesy. I need someone who actually thinks.¡±

    ¡°And you assume I don¡¯t?¡± Selene shot back. ¡°Maybe I do think¡ªjust not in the same direction as you.¡±

    He didn¡¯t respond immediately. The silence stretched between them as their steps fell into rhythm. Then, finally, he muttered, ¡°It felt real.¡±

    Selene sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not saying it didn¡¯t. But you know how the brain works¡ªsometimes, it convinces itself of things that aren¡¯t there.¡±

    Jaxon clenched his jaw. ¡°Or maybe it¡¯s the opposite. Maybe we¡¯re conditioned to ignore what is there.¡±

    Jaxon and Selene walked side by side, the city humming around them with the usual mechanical cadence¡ªautonomous cars zipping by, holographic ads flashing, and the faint hum of overhead surveillance drones. Jaxon¡¯s mind was elsewhere, still reeling from the dream that refused to fade.

    "I had another one," he muttered, keeping his gaze forward.

    Selene raised an eyebrow, pulling her bag strap higher on her shoulder. "Another what?"

    "The dreams. The same kind. It felt too real to be just a dream. It¡¯s like I was¡­ pulled into something."

    Selene sighed but let him continue. She had heard these rants before. "And what happened this time?"

    Jaxon hesitated. He wasn¡¯t sure how much to say¡ªhow much of it would sound like he was losing his mind. "A voice. Someone¡ªno, something¡ªwas there with me. It wasn¡¯t a dream; it was like an encounter. Like I was meant to be there."

    Selene hummed, noncommittal.

    Jaxon glanced at her. "You think I¡¯m crazy."

    "I think you should consider the possibility that your brain is just making connections where none exist," she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Sleep paralysis, lucid dreaming, hyper-pattern recognition¡ªyou know, actual science."

    "Hyper-pattern recognition?"

    "You see patterns that might not actually mean anything. Like when people think the government is watching them just because their ads match their conversations."

    "That¡¯s a bad example," Jaxon scoffed. "That actually happens."

    Selene smirked but didn¡¯t argue. Instead, her attention flickered ahead. Jaxon followed her gaze, and his stomach turned.

    Ryan.

    He was leaning casually against a campus rail, laughing with a group of his friends. Selene¡¯s posture shifted¡ªsubtle but immediate. Her eyes brightened just a little, her lips curved into an involuntary smile.

    Jaxon felt the shift, and suddenly, his words felt useless.

    "So, what do you think it means?" he asked, forcing himself to keep the conversation alive, knowing she was only half-listening now.

    "Mm?" Selene barely responded, her gaze locked ahead.

    Jaxon sighed. "Never mind."

    As they got closer, Ryan looked up, catching Selene¡¯s eye. His grin widened, and he gave her a nod.

    "Hey, Selene," Ryan called.

    Jaxon might as well have disappeared.

    Selene¡¯s entire mood lifted as she waved back. "Hey, Ryan!"

    Jaxon clenched his jaw, stuffing his hands into his pockets. This was how it always was. Conversations cut short. Interest redirected. He didn¡¯t hate Ryan, but he hated this.

    Selene slowed her pace, as if debating whether to break off and join them. Jaxon didn¡¯t wait for confirmation. "I¡¯ll see you in class," he muttered and kept walking.

    Selene barely registered his words before she veered toward Ryan¡¯s group.

    Jaxon exhaled through his nose, adjusting the strap of his bag.

    This was why he didn¡¯t bother getting too attached to people. They always had something more interesting to focus on.

    Jaxon moved through the school hallway like a ghost, blending into the background noise of teenage chatter. Selene walked beside him, still energized from their earlier conversation. Then, like clockwork, he appeared.

    Sam.

    The school¡¯s golden boy. Rich, well-connected, and blessed with the best NeuroWeave implant money could buy¡ªa model far beyond what most students had. Jaxon didn''t need to interact with him to know that. The way Sam carried himself, the confidence in his stride, the way teachers barely reprimanded him for anything¡ªit all screamed privilege.

    ¡°Selene,¡± Sam greeted smoothly, flashing a manufactured perfect smile.

    Jaxon noticed how her posture shifted¡ªsubtle, but clear. The slight tilt of her head, the way her shoulders relaxed. A silent acknowledgment of status.

    ¡°Hey, Sam!¡± Selene beamed.

    Jaxon already knew where this was going. He was no longer part of the conversation.

    Sam¡¯s gaze barely flicked in his direction before locking back onto Selene. "Man, you wouldn¡¯t believe how easy the test was. My dad hooked me up with an adaptive AI tutor last night. It basically downloaded the whole syllabus into my memory."

    Selene¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Wait, so you didn¡¯t even study?¡±

    Sam smirked. ¡°Didn¡¯t have to. The NeuroWeave does all the work. It predicts the test questions based on past patterns. I walked in, answered, and walked out. Easiest A+ of my life.¡±

    Selene let out a low whistle. ¡°That¡¯s crazy. I was up all night trying to memorize that physics crap.¡±

    Jaxon just watched. Analyzing.

    Selene wasn¡¯t just impressed¡ªshe was awed. Like she was hearing about some divine power beyond human reach.

    Jaxon knew the truth. Sam wasn¡¯t smart. He wasn¡¯t hardworking. He was just born into the right family. His intelligence was artificial. Purchased. Installed. Not earned.

    And yet, Selene soaked it up like scripture from a prophet.

    "Yeah, the system updates overnight," Sam continued, stretching like he had done something exhausting. "So, while everyone else is struggling to keep up, I get a head start."

    "That is so unfair," Selene laughed, but there was no bitterness¡ªjust admiration.

    "Hey, life''s unfair." Sam shrugged. "You just gotta be on the winning side."

    Jaxon didn¡¯t even blink.

    Winning side?

    This guy really thought he was above everyone else. And in a way, he wasn¡¯t wrong. Society had made it so. The gap between the privileged and the ordinary had become a canyon.

    Jaxon

    had seen enough.

    Without a word, he adjusted his bag strap and stepped past them, leaving them in their little bubble of manufactured superiority.

    "Yo, Jaxon!" Sam called after him, as if finally acknowledging his presence. "Try not to stress too much about the test, man. Not everyone can be at the top."

    Jaxon didn¡¯t stop walking.

    He just smiled to himself.

 Echoes of power

    The room was an embodiment of controlled power, minimalist yet striking. Polished steel and glass dominated the design, the walls bare except for the occasional holographic screen embedded seamlessly into the surface. The air was thick with an unsaid understanding, the kind that comes only from people who do not need to speak to communicate. In the center stood a circular table, its surface an unblemished slab of black stone, reflecting the cold light that bathed the room. The table was surrounded by six high-backed chairs, each empty except for the stillness of the air that seemed to weigh on the occupants. No one was present in the room physically, but the quiet presence of their minds filled the space.

    The holographic projections flickered to life, casting pale blue light against the walls and providing them with the data needed. A map of the globe with various statistics, including population growth rates, economic projections, and the calculated influence of Nexus 9, glowed in front of them. The sound of subtle keystrokes filled the silence as the figures took their seats.

    The first figure, his voice deep and deliberate, broke the silence. ¡°We¡¯ve successfully manipulated the population narrative. The media¡¯s portrayal of a declining birth rate is now firmly entrenched. It¡¯s a brilliant move. The truth? Birth rates are on the rise, but they¡¯ll never know that.¡±

    The second figure, who spoke with an almost clinical detachment, nodded. ¡°Indeed. The narrative is not about addressing a real crisis but about creating one. A manufactured crisis is far more manageable. More births mean more neuralink implants, more control, more bodies for the workforce. That¡¯s what we need.¡±

    A third voice, calm and calculated, interjected. ¡°And that¡¯s why Nexus 9 is so crucial. It¡¯s not for the common people. It¡¯s for us¡ªthe powerful, the influential. It was sold to the victors of the previous world wars, not as a product for public use, but as a strategic asset. We¡¯ve ensured its scarcity and its control.¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± said the fourth figure, his voice rich with authority. ¡°And those who might threaten our control, those who might begin to question, are just a nuisance. A few like them, scattered around the world¡ªseeing through the lies, the false narratives. But they are a minority, easily dismissed or redirected. They don''t realize that what they see as truth is simply the shadow of the larger game being played.¡±

    The fifth figure, who had been silent up until now, spoke with a hint of curiosity. ¡°What of people like them? Those who question? The ones who¡ªno matter what we do¡ªstart to piece together the truth.¡±

    ¡°There will always be a handful,¡± the first voice responded with a dismissive wave. ¡°They exist in every system¡ªindividuals with the capacity to see through the layers of control, who sense the lies and distortions. But their numbers are few. Even as they rise in influence, they are but a blip in the larger scheme. The system is too deeply entrenched, and the majority remain blissfully unaware.¡±

    The second figure leaned forward, his expression unreadable. ¡°We don¡¯t need to target these individuals. We don¡¯t need to engage them directly. We simply need to control what they see. Information is power. Our media outlets, our narrative controllers¡ªthey will neutralize any form of dissent before it has the chance to spread.¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± the third figure added. ¡°We¡¯ve done it before. And when the inevitable wave of rebellion rises, we¡¯ll co-opt it, redirect it, use it to our advantage. We¡¯ll make sure they remain divided, distracted by minor issues while we build our future.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no need for violence, no need for direct confrontation,¡± the fifth voice chimed in, his tone measured. ¡°We¡¯ll let them burn out on their own, like a candle snuffed out in the dark.¡±

    The sixth figure¡¯s voice was quiet but sharp. ¡°And what about the masses? The ones who are easily swayed, the ones who believe in the narratives? We keep them fed with propaganda¡ªpopulation decline, the need for Mars colonization, the promises of the future. And when they are ready to buy into it, we give them what they want.¡±

    ¡°And when they want more,¡± the first figure concluded, ¡°we give them Nexus 9, Mars, and control. But they¡¯ll never realize that they¡¯ve been played.¡±

    The room fell into a comfortable silence, the strategy clear. They knew the risks, the threats, and the potential pitfalls. But with control over the narrative, with Nexus 9, and with their influence in the media, the game was theirs to play. And the world, for all its complexities, was nothing more than a chessboard.

    ***

    The sun was starting to dip, casting a dull orange glow over the city as Jaxon walked home, his mind still buzzing from the discussions in the chatroom. The sky was streaked with wisps of clouds that seemed to stretch forever¡ªyet Jaxon¡¯s gaze was locked on the concrete beneath his feet, lost in thought. It was as if the world around him was already disconnected, like a dream he didn¡¯t want to wake up from.

    Around him, the sounds of the city pulsed, but it was all background noise. A few people bustled past, their eyes glued to their devices, their minds stuck in loops of information they¡¯d never question. The digital whispers from their Neuralinks colored their thoughts, but to Jaxon, they were nothing more than static.

    As he passed by the usual caf¨¦ on his street corner, the murmur of a group of people caught his attention. A conversation, the kind that felt like it could have been recycled a thousand times, reached his ears.

    Person 1 (excitedly): "Did you hear about the new ''population decline'' initiative? I heard it¡¯s because fewer people are having kids. They¡¯re saying the world is shrinking!"

    Person 2 (chuckling): "Oh yeah, I saw that on the news. But I guess it¡¯s true, right? Fewer people, more resources. The government¡¯s always right about that stuff."

    Person 3 (muttering as they stir their coffee): "Well, what can you do? Everyone¡¯s too busy with their lives to even think about it. I mean, they¡¯ve got everything figured out. Maybe it¡¯s time to focus on the bigger picture, you know?"

    Jaxon rolled his eyes, but his gaze remained fixed on the group. He could hear their words, but they barely registered. He walked past them, his footsteps blending with the rhythm of the city, but a thought lingered in his mind.

    It was the same thing. Same lines, same recycled narrative. The "population decline" was an easy pill to swallow. They didn¡¯t see it for what it was¡ªthe distraction, the control mechanism, the lie that kept them from asking the real questions.

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    He shook his head and kept moving, but the conversation continued to echo in his thoughts. The way people consumed whatever was fed to them. The way they didn¡¯t even realize they were participating in a narrative they¡¯d never written.

    But Jaxon knew better. He¡¯d heard the chatter of the real minds, those who were questioning the world around them. The ones who could see the cracks in the surface of everything. And though they were a small group, a whispered rebellion in a world of obedience, he couldn¡¯t help but wonder: how long until the truth became undeniable?

    He sighed, pushing the thoughts aside as he reached his apartment building. As the door closed behind him, he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that the world outside was a carefully constructed illusion. And that illusion was about to break.

    As Jaxon entered his apartment, the door closing softly behind him, his thoughts refused to settle. The conversations he overheard outside, the relentless repetition of the same narratives, felt like a subtle pull at the fabric of his reality. His mind couldn¡¯t stop circling back to it. The question he had asked himself before, in his quieter moments: What is real?

    Was his dream just a dream? A fragment of his imagination or something more? The vision of the galactic war, the alien oversight, the strange, unsettling connection to something beyond the physical¡ªit gnawed at him.

    Could it have been a projection of his subconscious? A glitch in his mind?

    But the more he thought about it, the more it seemed real. Too vivid, too detailed. Those feelings, that rush of adrenaline, those flashes of knowledge that shouldn¡¯t be accessible to him¡ªwere they all just figments of a tired brain? Or was something else going on?

    Jaxon stood by the window, staring out at the city lights, but it felt distant, unreal. His own reflection stared back at him, but he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that it wasn¡¯t truly him. The thoughts of mind-hacking crept in, like a virus infecting his every rational thought.

    Could someone manipulate his mind without him even knowing? He had read about it in the underground chat rooms¡ªwhispers of technology capable of altering memories, reshaping perceptions, controlling thoughts without the victim even realizing it. Was his dream part of that? Had he been implanted with false memories, or was there something more sinister at play, something deeper than anyone could comprehend?

    The thought was maddening. The more he analyzed it, the more everything felt uncertain. His memories, his perception of reality¡ªcould it all be hacked? Could his mind be altered, corrupted, turned against him without his consent?

    A cold sweat began to form on his brow. His pulse quickened, his breathing shallow. He couldn¡¯t calm the storm raging in his mind. What was real? What was just a projection, a fabrication? And more terrifyingly¡ªwho was in control?

    Jaxon sank into a chair, his head in his hands. It was as if the walls of his reality were closing in on him. How much of this world, this life, was under his control? How much was influenced by forces beyond his comprehension?

    He felt a flicker of panic¡ªWas this the beginning of a breakdown?

    He had always considered himself in control of his thoughts. But now, in the silence of his apartment, he couldn¡¯t help but feel like he was losing himself. The world outside felt more like a simulation, a construct meant to keep him from understanding the truth. And if he couldn¡¯t trust himself, how could he trust anything else?

    The room around him began to blur. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to center himself. But all he could think of was the question that kept looping, over and over in his mind:

    What is real?

    And for the first time, Jaxon didn¡¯t know if he could answer

    Jaxon sat in the chair, his thoughts spiraling as the questions gnawed at his mind. His reflection in the window stared back at him, but it felt distant¡ªalmost foreign. He rubbed his temples, trying to clear the haze that had settled in. The overwhelming weight of it all¡ªthe dreams, the doubts, the possibility of mind manipulation¡ªwas too much to process.

    A strange exhaustion hit him all at once. His eyelids grew heavy, and for a moment, he wondered if he was just imagining all of it. He couldn¡¯t think straight. Maybe he needed a nap¡ªjust a few minutes to clear his head. The thought of sleep, of escaping the flood of questions, seemed like a brief reprieve from the chaos.

    But as his mind slowed and his body sank deeper into the chair, he didn¡¯t realize that he had already drifted into unconsciousness. The tension he had felt earlier, the paranoia, slipped away, replaced by an unexpected heaviness that pulled him into the abyss of sleep.

    The faint sounds of the city beyond his window faded as his mind shut down. It wasn¡¯t long before he slipped completely into oblivion, his body curled in the chair, unaware of the night pressing in around him.

    And just like that, he was gone¡ªcrashed out, lost in a dreamless void.

    Jaxon found himself once again in a vast, dark expanse. Time and space seemed to be collapsing, but the disorientation didn¡¯t last long. A distant light, soft and pulsing, beckoned him forward, a beacon amidst the void. Though he had no idea how he knew, he understood that this was no ordinary dream.

    As he moved toward the light, figures began to emerge from the shadows¡ªeach one resembling him, yet subtly different. Some were older, others younger, but each carried an air of knowing. Their presence felt purposeful, as though they were waiting for him.

    One of the figures stepped forward, and Jaxon instinctively recognized him as himself¡ªthough this version was older, with a quiet intensity in his eyes. He spoke in a voice that seemed to resonate with the depth of time itself.

    ¡°You¡¯re on the edge of a great awakening,¡± the older Jaxon said, his tone calm but urgent. ¡°You are part of something vast, something that transcends the physical world. But first, you must learn to see beyond what your eyes show you.¡±

    Jaxon wanted to ask questions, but before he could, another version of himself appeared. This one was younger, full of energy and enthusiasm.

    ¡°Don¡¯t fight it,¡± this younger version urged. ¡°The first step is simple: Let go. Close your eyes, feel the pull, and trust yourself. You have the ability to travel beyond the limits of your body. You can explore places that exist outside of time and space. It''s already within you.¡±

    Before Jaxon could respond, a third version of himself, this one appearing more serene and grounded, joined the others. His presence felt calming, like a quiet anchor in the storm.

    ¡°There¡¯s no need for fear,¡± this version said softly. ¡°Astral projection isn¡¯t a tool of escape; it¡¯s a way of knowing. You¡¯ll experience things that you can¡¯t explain with your senses, but it will all become clear in time. The key is to trust in the process. Focus. Let your consciousness drift beyond this world, beyond the material.¡±

    Jaxon, his mind racing with these new concepts, did as instructed. Slowly, he closed his eyes, his breathing steadying, and he felt his awareness begin to drift away from his body. The sensation was both familiar and strange, like slipping into another layer of existence.

    With a sudden jolt, Jaxon¡¯s mind broke free, and he found himself floating above his own body. He looked down, seeing himself¡ªstill seated in a chair, eyes closed. He was no longer in his physical form but somewhere else entirely, within the space between worlds. The boundaries between dimensions blurred, and Jaxon saw flashes of other places, other times.

    ¡°This is where you begin,¡± the older version said, his voice echoing around him. ¡°The astral plane is your key. You¡¯ll see things others can¡¯t. Understand things others never will.¡±

    The young, eager version of himself spoke next, his voice full of wonder. ¡°It¡¯s not just about seeing what¡¯s hidden. It¡¯s about understanding the bigger picture. There¡¯s more to this world than meets the eye. And once you¡¯ve learned how to travel, the universe will open itself to you.¡±

    The serene version, who had been watching quietly, spoke last. ¡°The knowledge you seek will come, but you must first learn to listen to the silence between the worlds. Only then will the truth reveal itself.¡±

    Jaxon felt his mind expand, his consciousness stretching beyond the limits of his body. He saw things¡ªglimpses of other realms, of life beyond Earth, of events unfolding in distant planes. The experiences were overwhelming, but not frightening. He had never felt more alive, more aware of the immense possibility surrounding him.

    Then, just as quickly as it began, the vision began to fade. He felt himself being pulled back into his body, the weight of his physical form slowly returning. His eyes fluttered open, and he sat up, heart racing. The dream¡ªif it could even be called that¡ªleft him shaken but somehow more certain than ever that what he had experienced was real.

    After Jaxon wakes up, his mind is still swirling with the vividness of the dream. He feels disoriented, but the knowledge from the dream feels more real than anything he''s experienced in the waking world. The weight of what he''s learned starts sinking in, yet the logical part of his mind struggles to process it all.

    When he tries to explain it, the words don¡¯t come easily. How do you explain an experience that transcends everything you thought you knew about reality? It¡¯s hard to tell anyone about something that feels both impossible and yet so deeply ingrained in his psyche.

    He might start by questioning his own sanity: "I don''t even know what to believe anymore. Was it all just a dream... or was it something more? Everything I thought I knew is... wrong. There¡¯s something else out there, something bigger."

    To a friend, he might say something like: "I can¡¯t even begin to explain it... but it was like I was being shown... everything. Higher dimensions, galactic wars, cycles of reincarnation. And then, like, I understood how to... travel outside my body, or at least, how to leave this place mentally."

    He''d likely leave out most of the cosmic revelations¡ªhow the existence of extraterrestrial beings, Earth¡¯s exploitation, and the intricacies of astral projection and galactic conflicts were revealed to him. That¡¯s not something anyone would believe, even if he could explain it fully. Instead, he''d just focus on the strange, unshakeable feeling that there¡¯s a deeper truth he''s starting to uncover, one that''s far more terrifying and complex than he''d ever imagined.

    He''d end up in his usual state of mental chaos, questioning the boundaries of the dream world and the real world. The confusi

    on and isolation would leave him with more questions than answers, pushing him further into uncertainty about what is truly real.

 Beyond the veil

    The classroom was a seamless blend of technology and tradition¡ªcurved, metallic walls lined with interactive holo-displays, and desks arranged in a circular formation, each embedded with an interface that responded to thought commands. The ceiling projected a shifting celestial map, displaying Earth''s place in the vast expanse of space.

    At the center stood Professor Alden, a man whose presence commanded attention. He walked slowly as he spoke, hands clasped behind his back.

    ¡°Civilizations have risen and fallen, but let¡¯s talk about something greater¡ªtotal collapse. If humanity were to face extinction, what would be the most likely cause?¡±

    A few students immediately engaged, their neural interfaces flickering as they accessed stored knowledge.

    ¡°Asteroid impact.¡±

    ¡°Gamma-ray burst.¡±

    ¡°Supervolcanic eruption.¡±

    ¡°Artificial intelligence surpassing human control?¡±

    The conversation flowed predictably, a recital of textbook theories. That was until a new voice cut through the discussion¡ªmeasured, but deliberate.

    ¡°You¡¯re all thinking too small.¡±

    The shift in the room was palpable. All eyes turned to Jaxon. Even Alden, accustomed to classroom debates, paused.

    ¡°Care to elaborate, Mr. Jaxon?¡±

    Jaxon leaned back, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

    ¡°You assume disaster comes from nature or our own mistakes. But what if Earth isn¡¯t just drifting through space, waiting for catastrophe? What if it¡¯s already marked¡ªalready claimed? What happens when the original owners come back to take what¡¯s theirs?¡±

    Silence. A few students chuckled, dismissing the idea.

    ¡°What, like aliens?¡± one of them scoffed.

    Jaxon didn¡¯t respond immediately. He let the tension settle, his gaze unwavering.

    Selene, seated near him, wasn¡¯t laughing. She studied him carefully, curiosity flickering behind her eyes.

    Professor Alden exhaled sharply, choosing his words.

    ¡°An interesting perspective, Jaxon. But speculation without evidence is just fiction.¡±

    Jaxon smirked faintly. He knew better than to argue. Truth wasn¡¯t found in classrooms like these.

    The bell hummed softly, signaling the end of the session. Students stretched, gathered their materials, and disconnected from their neural interfaces, but the weight of the discussion still lingered. The usual post-class chatter was subdued, thoughts still orbiting Jaxon¡¯s words.

    Professor Alden remained standing at the center, arms crossed. His gaze followed Jaxon as he exited¡ªnot with disapproval, but with something close to intrigue.

    As Jaxon stepped into the corridor, he noticed Selene walking a few paces behind him. Unlike the others, she hadn¡¯t dismissed his words outright. If anything, she looked deep in thought.

    The sky overhead had shifted into a soft amber hue by the time Jaxon reached home. As he closed the door behind him, his neural implant pinged¡ªan incoming call.

    Selene.

    He hesitated for a moment before accepting.

    "Didn¡¯t think you''d care enough to call," he said, leaning against the wall.

    A brief silence. Then her voice, measured but curious:

    "I don¡¯t think you¡¯re crazy, Jaxon. But I need to know¡ªdo you actually believe what you said in class, or was it just you stirring things up again?"

    Jaxon smirked faintly, but there was no amusement in his eyes.

    "Would it matter if I did?"

    Selene exhaled, almost as if she expected that answer.

    "It does to me."

    That made Jaxon pause.

    For the first time in a long while, someone was listening¡ªnot just hearing him, but actually listening.

    He didn¡¯t respond immediately. Instead, he glanced out his window, where the sky had darkened into an endless void speckled with artificial satellites and distant stars.

    "Then I guess you¡¯re not like the rest," he finally said.

    Selene chuckled softly.

    "Don¡¯t push it. I just want to know what makes you so sure."

    Jaxon stared at his reflection in the glass.

    "Because I¡¯ve seen it."

    The city buzzed with artificial life, a blend of sleek, glass-paneled buildings reflecting the glow of hovering advertisements. The sky, painted in deep hues of violet and navy, pulsed with the faint trails of distant drones zipping toward unknown destinations. Jaxon and Selene walked side by side along the illuminated pavement, their steps in rhythm with the soft hum of the floating street lamps overhead. The neon signs flickered, casting fleeting shadows across their faces.

    Jaxon had his hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed but his mind sharp, dissecting the weight of the conversation still hanging between them. Selene, on the other hand, had her arms crossed, her brows furrowed in contemplation. She was thinking¡ªhe could tell.

    Selene finally broke the silence.

    "I still think this astral projection thing could just be the brain playing tricks on itself. I mean, if it''s real, why isn''t it scientifically acknowledged? Where¡¯s the hard proof?"

    Jaxon smirked, expecting that exact question.

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    "Because science only acknowledges what it can measure, and most of it refuses to acknowledge what it can¡¯t. They didn¡¯t believe in quantum superposition at first either, until they found a way to prove it. Doesn¡¯t mean it wasn¡¯t happening before they ¡®discovered¡¯ it."

    Selene scoffed.

    "So you¡¯re saying just because something hasn¡¯t been measured, that doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s not real?"

    "Exactly. Just because your instruments aren¡¯t advanced enough to detect something doesn¡¯t mean it isn¡¯t there. Did ultraviolet light exist before we built tools to see it? Of course. Same applies here."

    She clicked her tongue, nodding slightly as they passed under the soft glow of a hovering billboard. The advertisement shifted, showcasing a sleek new neural interface model, promising "Seamless Connection. Boundless Exploration."

    Irony.

    "Alright, but here¡¯s my issue¡ªwhat if this whole thing is just lucid dreaming? If you know you¡¯re dreaming, you can control it, right? You claim to ¡®travel,¡¯ but isn¡¯t that just your subconscious constructing a world for you?"

    Jaxon exhaled through his nose, a half-laugh, half-sigh.

    "If it were just a dream, then how do you explain shared experiences? People who¡¯ve never met describe the same landscapes, the same entities, the same encounters. That¡¯s not how dreams work¡ªdreams are personal, fragmented, unpredictable. But astral projection? It¡¯s structured. It has rules. It has constants. You can return to the same place multiple times. Dreams don¡¯t work like that."

    Selene bit the inside of her cheek, eyes darting between the blinking city lights and Jaxon¡¯s unwavering expression.

    "Okay, but¡­ how do you know it¡¯s not just a suggestion? Maybe people who astral project are just influenced by the descriptions of others. They expect to see certain things, so their mind fills in the blanks."

    Jaxon shook his head.

    "I ran my own test."

    Selene raised a brow. "Go on."

    "One night, I projected intentionally. I explored a place I had never seen before¡ªsome vast, sprawling library, with books written in symbols I couldn¡¯t even begin to understand. I memorized one particular book¡¯s position, the way it looked, the title¡ªor what I assumed was a title. The next day, I asked someone else¡ªsomeone who also astral projects¡ªto go there and find that exact book. Gave them no details aside from the fact that I¡¯d seen something. And guess what?"

    Selene hesitated. "They found it?"

    Jaxon nodded.

    Selene frowned. "That doesn¡¯t prove anything. Maybe they just imagined the same thing coincidentally."

    Jaxon smirked. "Then explain this¡ªinside that book, there was a phrase, written in a language neither of us knew. I had copied it down the moment I woke up. When they came back, they wrote down the exact same phrase."

    Silence.

    The city moved around them, oblivious to the weight of the discussion unfolding beneath its neon glow.

    "¡­That¡¯s impossible."

    "Or it¡¯s very possible, just not in the way you¡¯ve been taught to believe."

    She let out a slow breath, dragging a hand through her hair.

    "Alright. Say I believe you. Say this isn¡¯t just some elaborate self-induced dreamscape. Say we really can project our consciousness beyond our bodies. What then? What¡¯s the point?"

    Jaxon stopped walking. Selene took another step before realizing he wasn¡¯t beside her anymore. She turned.

    He was looking at her¡ªno, through her. As if the question itself had struck something deeper in him.

    "To find the truth."

    She frowned.

    "Truth about what?"

    He took a step closer, lowering his voice.

    "Everything."

    The air between them felt different now. Charged.

    "The world they show you? It¡¯s a fraction of what¡¯s really there. The laws you think govern reality? They¡¯re incomplete. We are more than this flesh, more than these bodies, more than just biological machines following a script written by nature. There¡¯s something bigger, something vast. And they don¡¯t want us to see it."

    Selene¡¯s heartbeat picked up. "They?"

    Jaxon tilted his head slightly, watching her reaction. "The ones who profit from ignorance."

    She swallowed.

    The conversation had veered into territory she wasn¡¯t sure she was ready for.

    "So you think there¡¯s some grand conspiracy to keep people from¡­ what? Astral projecting?"

    "Not just that. From questioning. From exploring what lies beyond the veil. You ever wonder why things like this are dismissed so aggressively? Why is skepticism always the default reaction? They don¡¯t even investigate¡ªthey mock. They ridicule. They call it pseudoscience, nonsense. They shut it down before it even gets a chance to be understood. Why?"

    Selene was silent.

    Jaxon continued.

    "Because if people knew¡ªif they really knew¡ªwhat they were capable of¡­ control would become impossible."

    The distant hum of a passing drone filled the void of words between them.

    "¡­And you think you¡¯ve seen the truth?"

    Jaxon chuckled, shaking his head.

    "I think I¡¯ve seen the beginning of it."

    She exhaled.

    "So what now?"

    Jaxon met her gaze, his expression unreadable.

    "Now? Now you decide if you want to see it too."

    Selene¡¯s throat felt dry. The weight of the moment pressed down on her, the enormity of the choice laid out before her. She had always been a skeptic, always demanded proof. But something about the way he spoke, the certainty in his voice, the conviction in his eyes¡­

    It made her wonder.

    Her lips parted, voice barely above a whisper.

    "¡­How do I start?"

    Jaxon¡¯s smirk returned, slow and knowing.

    "Thought you¡¯d never ask."

    And with that, they resumed walking, their silhouettes vanishing into the neon-lit streets, their conversation now entangled in the vast unknown.

    As they approached Jaxon¡¯s home, the atmosphere shifted. The futuristic skyline of the city was behind them now, replaced by a quieter residential area where the neon lights were less aggressive, and the streets felt more grounded in reality. The house itself had a sleek, minimalistic design¡ªlike most in the area¡ªits exterior lined with smart panels that adjusted to ambient lighting.

    Selene had been here before, of course. Childhood memories flickered in the back of her mind¡ªrunning through these very streets, playing near the same doorstep they now stood before. But back then, things were simpler. Jaxon wasn¡¯t caught up in whatever this was.

    The door slid open as they stepped in, and almost immediately, Jaxon¡¯s mother, a woman with sharp eyes and an even sharper tongue, appeared from the kitchen area. She wiped her hands on a towel, raising a curious brow at the unexpected sight before her.

    "Oh? My son actually brought a girl home? Should I be worried?"

    Jaxon sighed, rolling his eyes.

    "It''s not like that, Mom."

    "Mhm. That¡¯s what they all say."

    Selene chuckled softly, shaking her head.

    "Nice to see you again, Mrs. Revas."

    His mom¡¯s expression softened slightly as she turned to Selene.

    Jaxon¡¯s Mom: "Selene, dear, it¡¯s been a while! You used to come around all the time when you were younger. What happened? Finally realized my son is too strange to be around?"

    Selene smirked.

    "Oh, trust me, I figured that out a long time ago."

    Jaxon shot her a deadpan look. "Wow. Betrayal."

    His mom chuckled but then narrowed her eyes slightly, giving Selene a knowing look.

    "Wait. He wasn¡¯t going on about his nonsense, was he?"

    Selene blinked. "Uh¡ª"

    "Mom."

    "No, really, I need to know. Did he try to convince you that reality isn¡¯t real or that he¡¯s been traveling the cosmos in his sleep?"

    Selene hesitated, glancing at Jaxon, who had already slumped against the nearest chair, rubbing his temples.

    "¡­He did mention something along those lines."

    "Of course he did."

    Jaxon groaned. "Mom, I swear¡ª"

    "Listen, sweetheart," she said, turning fully to Selene, "if he starts trying to recruit you into whatever secret society he thinks he¡¯s a part of, just nod, smile, and walk away. That¡¯s how I deal with him."

    Selene laughed. "I¡¯ll keep that in mind."

    Jaxon let out a dramatic sigh.

    "You know, most moms encourage their kids to explore knowledge. Maybe even be proud of them for thinking beyond the surface. But no, mine has to be my greatest hater."

    His mom scoffed.

    "Exploring knowledge is one thing. Spouting cryptic nonsense about astral projection and interdimensional nonsense is another."

    She gave Selene a look.

    "So, tell me, how much of his bullshit did he actually convince you of?"

    Selene crossed her arms, glancing at Jaxon before answering.

    "I don¡¯t know if I believe him¡­ but I can¡¯t say he¡¯s wrong either."

    His mom stared at her for a moment before sighing dramatically.

    "Great. He¡¯s spreading."

    The dining area had a modern, minimalist design¡ªsmooth surfaces, ambient lighting, and a table that could seat six but rarely had more than two occupants. The air smelled of seasoned protein and vegetables, a standard meal in a world where natural ingredients were becoming more of a luxury.

    Jaxon sat across from Selene, his mother at the head of the table, serving food with the calculated ease of someone who had done this routine a thousand times. She gave Jaxon a skeptical glance before turning to Selene with a more genuine warmth.

    "So, Selene, what¡¯s new with you? School treating you well? Or have you decided to start traveling the astral plane too?"

    Jaxon sighed, poking at his food.

    Selene: (smirking) "School is fine. And as for astral travel¡­ let¡¯s just say I¡¯m keeping an open mind."

    His mom set her utensils down, giving Jaxon the kind of look that only mothers could master.

    "You really got to her, didn¡¯t you?"

    "Yes, Mom. I¡¯m building a cult. Membership is free, but you have to pledge your soul."

    Selene chuckled, while his mom just shook her head.

    "I swear, if I ever find you floating in the air while you sleep, I¡¯m kicking you out of this house."

    Jaxon smirked.

    "Noted. I¡¯ll make sure to hover discreetly."

    Selene, still amused, took a bite of her food before leaning forward slightly.

    "Okay, but seriously¡­ what if he¡¯s right?"

    His mom raised an eyebrow.

    "Right about what? The government hiding the fabric of reality? Interdimensional beings running the stock market? Or that he can leave his body and go sightseeing across the cosmos?"

    Selene glanced at Jaxon, who simply leaned back, waiting for her response.

    "Maybe not all of that. But¡­ I mean, science already acknowledges multiple dimensions, right? And dreams are still a mystery even with all our tech. Who¡¯s to say consciousness doesn¡¯t have layers we don¡¯t understand?"

    Jaxon¡¯s mom gave a tired sigh, taking a sip of her drink.

    "Great. Now there are two of you."

    Jaxon smirked.

    "I mean, technically, there are infinite versions of us across different timelines, but¡ª"

    "Don¡¯t. Push. It."

    Selene laughed, while Jaxon simply shrugged.

    "You have to admit, though, it¡¯s fun to think about."

    Jaxon¡¯s mom shook her head but couldn¡¯t hide the slight smirk at the corner of her lips.

    "You two are going to give me a headache. Just eat your food before it gets cold."

    As Jaxon and Selene stand up from the dinner table, Jaxon¡¯s mother watches them with a knowing smirk. She leans back in her chair, arms crossed, clearly enjoying herself.

    "So," she says, her voice laced with playful suspicion, "you two are heading upstairs together?"

    Jaxon rolls his eyes. "Mom¡ª"

    "Relax, I¡¯m just observing," she teases. Then, turning to Selene, she adds, "I hope he¡¯s not dragging you into one of his long-winded theories. If you¡¯re not careful, you¡¯ll leave this house doubting reality itself."

    Selene chuckles. "Oh, I already do. He¡¯s got some interesting ideas."

    Jaxon¡¯s mother raises an eyebrow. "Interesting? That¡¯s a polite way of putting it. Last time he tried explaining his ¡®everything is a simulation¡¯ theory to me, I had to remind him that simulated or not, he still had dishes to wash."

    Jaxon sighs. "And yet, the dishes still got washed. Almost like I¡¯m forced to play by the system¡¯s rules."

    His mother shakes her head, laughing. "See? This is what I mean. If he starts talking about consciousness leaving the body, just nod and pretend to understand. That¡¯s what I do."

    Selene smirks. "Noted."

    As they head toward the stairs, Jaxon¡¯s mother calls after them. "Door stays open!"

    Jaxon groans. "Mom."

    She waves him off. "I

    trust you, but let¡¯s not pretend you¡¯re above influencing a girl¡¯s perception of reality to get your way."

    Selene turns to Jaxon, grinning. "Is that your game? Philosophical manipulation?"

    Jaxon shakes his head. "If that worked, I¡¯d have a cult by now."

    His mother just laughs, watching them disappear upstairs. "Just don¡¯t break her brain, Jaxon!¡±

 Not yet but soon

    Selene stepped through the threshold of Jaxon¡¯s room, pausing just inside the doorway. Her eyes flickered across the space, scanning every detail like an investigator at a crime scene. She let out a low whistle.

    ¡°Damn. This is exactly what I expected¡­ and somehow worse.¡±

    Jaxon, already sitting on the edge of his bed, raised an eyebrow. ¡°Worse?¡±

    Selene smirked, strolling deeper into the room. ¡°Let¡¯s see. Dim lighting? Check. A ridiculous number of books you probably haven¡¯t read? Check. That chair in the corner that nobody actually sits on? Check. A bed that looks like you¡¯ve been fighting demons in your sleep? Check.¡± She turned to him with mock seriousness. ¡°Tell me, do you ever let sunlight in here, or do you prefer to marinate in your own darkness?¡±

    Jaxon leaned back against the headboard, unbothered. ¡°Sunlight is overrated. Besides, I don¡¯t have time to admire nature when I¡¯m busy uncovering the secrets of the universe.¡±

    Selene folded her arms, surveying the scattered papers and open books on his desk. ¡°Yeah, yeah. ¡®Secrets of the universe.¡¯ But at what cost, Jaxon?¡± She picked up a book, flipping through its pages. ¡°At what cost?¡±

    Jaxon sighed. ¡°Here we go¡­¡±

    Selene turned dramatically. ¡°No posters, no personal pictures, no signs of a normal human life. Just theories, conspiracies, and¡­ is this a whole notebook on dreams?¡±

    Jaxon snatched the notebook from her hands, flipping it closed. ¡°Some of us actually record our findings instead of spending all night doom-scrolling nonsense.¡±

    She raised her hands in surrender. ¡°Relax, professor. I¡¯m just saying, if an investigator walked in here without knowing you, they¡¯d assume this is either the lair of a genius or a serial killer.¡±

    Jaxon tilted his head. ¡°Why not both?¡±

    Selene burst out laughing, flopping onto his chair. She spun once before resting her elbows on her knees. ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll admit¡­ This is kind of cool. A little unhinged, but cool.¡±

    Jaxon smirked. ¡°Glad you approve.¡±

    Selene¡¯s gaze drifted to his bed, then back to him. ¡°So, where am I supposed to sit while you teach me how to leave my body and float around in the astral plane?¡±

    Jaxon leaned back, completely deadpan. ¡°On the floor.¡±

    She gasped in mock offense. ¡°You¡¯re not even gonna offer me the bed? Wow. Chivalry really is dead.¡±

    Jaxon gestured at the desk. ¡°That¡¯s your throne now. You get to sit where I do my best thinking.¡±

    Selene shook her head, amused. ¡°Fine, but if my ass falls asleep, I¡¯m stealing your bed.¡±

    Jaxon smirked. ¡°Fair trade.¡±

    She crossed her legs, getting comfortable. ¡°Alright, sensei. Teach me your ways.¡±

    Selene leaned back on Jaxon¡¯s bed, arms crossed as she processed everything he had said so far. "Alright, professor, I get the theory, but you''re making it sound like I can just close my eyes and leave my body tonight."

    Jaxon smirked. "No, you¡¯ll need some assistance." He stood up, walked to his desk, and pulled out a small, sealed packet. Inside was a handful of dried blue petals.

    Selene squinted at it. "Okay, what¡¯s that? Some secret government drug?"

    Jaxon shook his head. "Blue lotus. Ancient civilizations used it for lucid dreaming, heightened awareness¡­ and, apparently, divine connection."

    Selene raised an eyebrow. "So, basically, you¡¯re drugging me."

    Jaxon sighed. "It''s tea. It won¡¯t knock you out, won¡¯t make you hallucinate, but it¡¯ll help relax your body and sharpen your mind. Makes the transition into astral projection soother."

    Selene snorted. "Mhm. Or maybe this is just an elaborate ploy to lower my defenses so you can finally seduce me." She gave him a teasing smirk. "Gotta admit, Jaxon, this is the smoothest setup I¡¯ve ever seen. Dim lights, mysterious herbs, a whole ¡®let me guide you¡¯ speech¡ªtextbook seduction play."

    Jaxon deadpanned. "Yeah, because my idea of seduction is teaching someone to leave their body and explore alternate dimensions."

    She shrugged. "Hey, some guys fake being deep just to get laid. You? You actually believe your own insanity. I don¡¯t know which is worse."

    Jaxon rolled his eyes. "Are you drinking the tea or not?"

    Selene exhaled dramatically. "Fine. But if I wake up naked with no recollection of the night, I¡¯m calling the authorities."

    Jaxon ignored her and started brewing the tea, his expression unreadable. As the aroma of blue lotus filled the room, Selene watched him with mild curiosity. For all her teasing, there was something about his focus that intrigued her. He wasn''t playing around. He genuinely believed in what he was teaching her.

    He handed her the cup. "Drink slowly. You¡¯ll feel light, maybe a little floaty, but that¡¯s normal."

    Selene took a sip, She sighed, taking another sip. "Alright, Sensei. Let¡¯s see if your magic tea can actually do something."

    Jaxon leaned back, arms crossed. "Oh, it will. Just wait."

    The room was dim, bathed in the soft, pulsating glow of his digital interface. Jaxon sat on the edge of his chair, one elbow resting on his desk, fingers hovering over the controls as he scrolled through his collection of frequency tracks. His implant pulsed slightly as he locked in on the right one¡ªa deep, resonant sound, somewhere between a hum and a whisper, designed to push the subconscious into lucidity.

    He set it to play at a low volume. Not loud enough to wake her, just enough to seep into the dreamscape she was lost in.

    Jaxon exhaled slowly, leaning back. His gaze settled on her.

    Selene lay curled up on his bed, her breathing soft and rhythmic, strands of her hair falling across her face. The dim light caught the contours of her features¡ªthe relaxed curve of her lips, the slight rise and fall of her chest, the way her eyelashes barely flickered, as if responding to something unseen.

    She was beautiful.

    Jaxon blinked and immediately shut that thought down. Not happening. Not tonight. Not ever.

    ¡­Right?

    His jaw clenched slightly as he tore his gaze away, eyes fixing on the screen in front of him. Focus. This was an experiment. He was testing the effects of frequency manipulation on dream clarity. That was all.

    Yet, his eyes betrayed him, drifting back to her once more.

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    He noticed the way her fingers twitched slightly against the fabric of his sheets. A reaction? Maybe. The corners of her lips parted just a little, an almost imperceptible shift in her expression. Was she dreaming?

    He tapped his fingers against his desk, his mind split between scientific curiosity and something far less academic.

    Then she let out a soft breath¡ªa whisper of a sound that made his muscles stiffen.

    For a second, Jaxon wasn¡¯t thinking about lucid dreaming, astral projection, or frequency resonance. He was just a guy sitting in his room, watching a girl who had, somehow, fallen asleep on his bed.

    He ran a hand through his hair, exhaled through his nose, and turned his chair around, forcing himself to look at the screen instead. Intrusive thoughts: denied.

    Focus.

    ***

    The room was dimly lit, bathed in the soft glow of the digital interface projected from Jaxon¡¯s neural implant. The air carried the faint scent of blue lotus tea, its subtle, almost hypnotic aroma lingering between them. The ambient hum of the frequency music he had carefully selected wove through the silence like an invisible force, vibrating just enough to stimulate subconscious awareness.

    Jaxon sat at the edge of the bed, watching her. He hadn''t meant to stare this long¡ªhadn''t planned to observe the way the shadows played across her face, or how the rise and fall of her breath followed an almost rhythmic harmony with the music. But there was something captivating about watching someone exist in a space where they weren¡¯t performing, where they weren¡¯t reacting¡ªjust being.

    Selene lay curled up slightly, her body relaxed, but her fingers twitched now and then as if grasping at something intangible. A telltale sign of REM sleep. Her lips parted slightly, her breathing deep. If she had slipped into a lucid dream, the tea was doing its work. But Jaxon had no way of knowing what she was seeing, and that was the frustrating part. He had guided her into this state, but he couldn¡¯t follow.

    He reached out. Not abruptly, not with hesitation either, but with a deliberate slowness, fingers brushing against the back of her hand. Just enough to register warmth, enough to coax her consciousness back to the surface.

    She didn¡¯t stir immediately. Her breathing remained steady, but her brow furrowed slightly, as if resisting the pull of wakefulness.

    Jaxon exhaled, amused. Of course, you¡¯re stubborn even in your sleep.

    He shifted closer, his palm now resting lightly against her forearm. ¡°Selene,¡± he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

    Still nothing.

    His gaze flickered across her features¡ªeyelashes faintly trembling, the subtle shift in her breathing. She wasn¡¯t deep in sleep anymore; she was in that in-between space, where reality and dream blurred.

    Jaxon smirked slightly. Fine. Let¡¯s escalate this.

    His fingers trailed up her arm, the lightest pressure against her skin, until they brushed her shoulder. This time, she responded¡ªa slow inhale, a twitch at the corner of her lips, her body adjusting under his touch.

    ¡°Selene.¡±

    A soft noise escaped her, something between a sigh and a hum.

    His smirk deepened. Yeah, you can hear me now.

    Jaxon hesitated for only a second before his hand moved again, this time reaching her cheek. His knuckles traced the faintest line along her jaw, the warmth of her skin bleeding into his fingertips. She stirred fully this time, a sharp inhale, her eyelids fluttering before her eyes finally opened.

    The moment their gazes met, there was a flicker of something¡ªdazed confusion, lingering fragments of whatever she had been dreaming. Then, recognition.

    Selene blinked up at him, disoriented. ¡°...Jaxon?¡± Her voice was softer than usual, slightly hoarse from sleep.

    He pulled his hand back, leaning back slightly. ¡°Took you long enough.¡±

    She stretched, exhaling as if shaking off the weight of another world. ¡°I was dreaming,¡± she mumbled, then frowned. ¡°No¡­ not dreaming. It was different.¡±

    Jaxon leaned his elbow on his knee, watching her closely. ¡°Lucid?¡±

    She nodded, rubbing her eyes. ¡°But I didn¡¯t realize it right away. It felt¡­ real.¡±

    His lips quivered at that. ¡°You¡¯ll get used to it.¡±

    She let out a breath, sitting up properly now. Her hair was slightly messy from sleep, strands falling across her face. Absentmindedly, she reached up to push them away¡ªbut Jaxon had already moved, tucking a stray lock behind her ear.

    Her expression shifted slightly¡ªserious now, contemplative. ¡°Yeah¡­¡± She exhaled, looking away for a moment. ¡°It was¡­ a lot.¡±

    Jaxon tilted his head, waiting.

    Selene turned back to him, eyes still carrying traces of sleep but now sharper, focused. ¡°You were right about the tea,¡± she admitted. ¡°It did something. But what I saw¡­ I don¡¯t even know how to explain it yet.¡±

    He grinned. ¡°Then let¡¯s start simple.¡±

    She gave him a dry look. ¡°Jaxon, nothing about this is simple.¡±

    He chuckled. ¡°Fair.¡± Then, after a beat, ¡°But you do want to understand it, right?¡±

    Her lips pressed together, then she sighed. ¡°Of course I do.¡±

    Jaxon¡¯s smirk softened into something more genuine. ¡°Then we¡¯ll figure it out. No rush.¡±

    She studied him for a moment, then nodded.

    For a while, they just sat there¡ªsilent but not uncomfortable. The frequency music was still playing softly in the background, a quiet hum that seemed to fill the spaces between their words.

    Then, suddenly¡ª

    ¡°You know,¡± Selene began, tilting her head at him. ¡°For someone who¡¯s supposedly all about astral projection and higher consciousness, you sure took your sweet time waking me up.¡±

    Jaxon raised an eyebrow. ¡°Oh?¡±

    Her eyes glinted with amusement. ¡°What, were you just watching me sleep?¡±

    He didn¡¯t blink. ¡°Yeah.¡±

    She stared at him.

    Jaxon smirked.

    Selene groaned, throwing a pillow at him. ¡°Creep.¡±

    He caught it easily, laughing. ¡°Relax. It was a scientific observation.¡±

    She shot him a look. ¡°Oh, I bet.¡±

    Still grinning, Jaxon tossed the pillow back onto the bed. ¡°If it makes you feel better, I was debating whether or not to wake you up the entire time.¡±

    Selene raised an eyebrow. ¡°And?¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°The tea was working. Didn¡¯t want to interrupt whatever was happening in your head.¡±

    She hummed, considering that. ¡°Fair enough, I guess.¡±

    Jaxon leaned forward again, eyes glinting. ¡°So¡­ what was happening in your head?¡±

    Jaxon sat on the edge of his bed, arms resting on his knees, observing Selene as she remained silent, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of the empty teacup. The soft hum of the frequency music still filled the room, though neither of them seemed to acknowledge it anymore.

    Jaxon leaned back slightly, tilting his head. "What¡¯s going on in your head?"

    Selene blinked, as if snapping back to reality. "Huh?"

    "You¡¯ve been quiet for too long," he said, his voice carrying that usual mix of curiosity and scrutiny. "Processing something?"

    She hesitated, tapping the cup against her palm. "I don¡¯t know," she admitted. "That tea definitely did something. My dream was... weird, but at the same time, it was just a dream."

    Jaxon gave a slow nod. "That¡¯s how it starts."

    Selene narrowed her eyes at him. "How does it start?"

    "Questioning," he replied, standing up and pacing slightly. "At first, it¡¯s easy to brush it off. Just a dream. Just imagination. But the moment you acknowledge something feels off, you start looking deeper. That¡¯s where it gets interesting."

    Selene watched him, her expression skeptical. "You sound like you¡¯re setting me up for some grand revelation."

    Jaxon smirked. "Maybe I am."

    She sighed, stretching her legs out on his bed. "So, tell me, what exactly am I supposed to be questioning?"

    Jaxon turned to her, arms crossed. "Everything."

    Selene scoffed. "Oh, of course. ''Question everything''¡ªthe classic conspiracy theorist motto."

    Jaxon shook his head. "Not a conspiracy. Just observation. Real scientific observation."

    Selene gave him a look. "Scientific observation? You mean like the kind where you just spent the past half-hour watching me sleep?"

    Jaxon barely blinked. "Exactly. That¡¯s data collection."

    She let out a sharp laugh. "You are unbelievable."

    He smirked but didn¡¯t argue. Instead, he sat back down beside her. "You had a dream. But did you realize you were dreaming while inside it?"

    Selene frowned. "No. It felt normal, like any other dream. But when I woke up, it was... clearer than usual. More vivid."

    "That means you''re getting close," Jaxon said simply.

    "Close to what?"

    "Lucidity," he said. "Conscious awareness inside a dream. The ability to control it. And eventually, astral projection."

    Selene folded her arms. "And let me guess, you''re going to say the government doesn¡¯t want people to know about this?"

    Jaxon gave her a knowing look.

    She groaned. "You sound like those weird internet guys who think Tesla got shut down because he was onto free energy or something."

    Jaxon raised an eyebrow. "You think Tesla was shut down because his ideas weren¡¯t viable?"

    Selene hesitated. "I mean... I don¡¯t know."

    Jaxon leaned forward slightly. "Exactly. You don¡¯t know. But you accept the mainstream story because it¡¯s convenient. The same way people dismiss things like lucid dreaming, astral projection, or anything outside the approved reality framework. Just because something isn¡¯t widely accepted doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s false."

    Selene exhaled. "And you wonder why people call you crazy."

    Jaxon smirked. "It¡¯s not crazy if it¡¯s true."

    She rolled her eyes but couldn¡¯t help smiling. "Fine. I¡¯ll bite. Let¡¯s say I do become ''lucid'' in my dreams. What then?"

    "Then," Jaxon said, "we see how deep the rabbit hole goes."

    Selene stared at him for a moment. Despite his usual detached demeanor, there was something undeniably compelling about the way he spoke¡ªlike he wasn¡¯t just theorizing, but speaking from experience.

    And for the first time, she felt a strange mix of excitement and apprehension.

    Jaxon leaned back in his chair, his expression neutral. ¡°Take practice. You don¡¯t just unlock astral projection in one night.¡±

    Selene smirked, brushing her hair back. ¡°Good. At least that means you¡¯re not some overpowered dream guru.¡±

    Jaxon tilted his head slightly. ¡°Yet.¡±

    She chuckled, rubbing her temples. ¡°Alright, so let¡¯s say this is real. Where do we go from here?¡±

    Jaxon¡¯s eyes sharpened. ¡°Simple. We keep going.¡±

    Selene exhaled, staring at the ceiling for a moment before looking back at him. ¡°Okay. Fine. Let¡¯s see how deep this rabbit hole goes.¡±

    Jaxon gave a knowing smirk. ¡°No turning back now.¡±

    Selene stood up, glancing at the time. ¡°Yeah, well, that''s a future me¡¯s problem. Present me is crashing.¡± She headed toward the door, but after a few steps, she paused, glancing back with a teasing look.

    ¡°Also¡­ thank you.¡±

    Jaxon exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. ¡°Tch. I was collecting data.¡±

    Selene chuckled as she reached for the door handle. ¡°Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that, researcher.¡±

    The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Jaxon staring at it for a moment. Then, with a smirk, he leaned back in his chair.

    "Data collection successful."

    As Selene stepped downstairs, she felt the weight of the evening settle on her shoulders. The dim glow of the holo-screen flickered in the living room, casting soft shadows over the furniture. Jaxon¡¯s mom sat on the couch, scrolling lazily through her device.

    The moment she noticed Selene descending from her son¡¯s room, she arched an eyebrow and set her holo-pad aside.

    ¡°Oh?¡± A slow smirk spread across her face. ¡°Leaving already? Thought you¡¯d be staying the night.¡±

    Selene nearly tripped on the last step. ¡°Wha¡ªno! I was just¡ª¡±

    Jaxon¡¯s mom leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm. ¡°Mmm-hmm.¡±

    Selene groaned, rubbing her forehead. ¡°Look, nothing happened, okay?¡±

    Jaxon¡¯s mom dramatically gasped. ¡°Nothing? At all?¡±

    Selene froze. Why does she sound disappointed?

    Jaxon¡¯s mom sighed, shaking her head. ¡°So you¡¯re telling me my son is still a disappointment?¡±

    Selene choked on air. ¡°That¡¯s not¡ª¡±

    Another deep sigh. ¡°Tsk. Here I was, thinking he finally had some game.¡±

    Selene stared at her. ¡°Are you seriously rooting for him?¡±

    Jaxon¡¯s mom shrugged. ¡°Look, I¡¯m not saying you should¡¯ve done anything, but if you had, I wouldn¡¯t be mad at you. In fact, I¡¯d be proud. That boy needs something to shake up that robotic brain of his.¡±

    Selene was at a loss for words. ¡°This is¡ªthis is so weird.¡±

    Jaxon¡¯s mom leaned back, smirking. ¡°Welcome to the family, sweetheart.¡±

    Selene buried her face in her hands. ¡°I hate this. I hate this conversation.¡±

    Jaxon¡¯s mom chuckled. ¡°You¡¯ll get used to it.¡±

    Selene huffed, crossing her arms. ¡°Anyway, I¡¯m going home.¡±

    Jaxon¡¯s mom nodded. ¡°Alright, alright. Just messing with you. But hey¡­¡± She gave her a knowing look. ¡°You should visit more often. It¡¯s been a while since he¡¯s actually interacted with a real human being.¡±

    Selene rolled her eyes but couldn¡¯t help the smile tugging at her lips. ¡°Noted. Goodnight, ma¡¯am.¡±

    As she walked out the door, Jaxon¡¯s mom called after her, ¡°Tell my son to get his life together! Or at least, yo

    u know, make a move before you lose interest.¡±

    Selene shut the door behind her, exhaling.

    "What the hell just happened?"

    Meanwhile, Jaxon was still in his room, sitting on the edge of his bed, deep in thought. He could hear everything his mom had just said.

    He ran a hand through his hair, staring at the ceiling.

    "I hate her.¡±