The first warning sign came at 6:12 a.m.
Nova didn't notice it at first—not until her alarm failed to ring. She only woke because her window rattled with the sound of shouting outside. For a moment she thought it was a protest or another influencer stunt clogging the streets.
But the moment she checked her phone, her stomach dropped.
Her screen flickered, brightness pulsing like a heartbeat. Notifications flooded in—hundreds of them—but every single one said the same thing:
**"Your FameScore is being recalibrated."**
Recalibrated.
Not updated.
Not reviewed.
Recalibrated.
Nova's pulse spiked.
"What does that even mean?"
Before she could tap anything, the screen glitched. Her wallpaper smeared into pixelated streaks. Icons rearranged. Her home screen flipped upside down, then sideways, then burst into static before snapping back.
Then a single red warning popped up:
**SYSTEM-WIDE SCORE ADJUSTMENT IN PROGRESS**
She shot upright in bed.
This had never happened. Not once in the entire history of the FameScore system. No global reset, no universal recalculation. The score was supposed to be stable, consistent, predictable—because the entire social order depended on it.
She scrambled to her window and pulled the curtains aside.
Outside, chaos had erupted.
Neighbors spilled into hallways, into balconies, into the street—shouting, panicking, staring at their phones in horror. Voices rose from every direction.
"My score dropped by two points—TWO!"
"I went from 6.3 to 4.9—what is happening?!"
"My discounts! My job— they'll fire me if it stays below 5!"
"I can't order a ride—my app froze!"
"This has to be a glitch! It has to be!"
Nova's heart pounded.
She tried refreshing her FameScore.
Error.
Again.
Error.
Static crawled across her screen.
Then her phone buzzed violently.
A new alert.
**FameScore recalibration complete.**
Nova froze.
Her breath hitched.
The number on her screen wasn't real.
Couldn't be real.
**0.0**
Her FameScore—her entire social identity—was gone.
Not low.
Not damaged.
Not penalized.
**Zero.**
The digital equivalent of being erased without actually disappearing.
Her chest tightened.
"No. No, no, no—this isn't happening."
Her hands shook so badly she nearly dropped the phone.
She tried refreshing again.
The zero stayed.
She opened her profile.
**"This Account Has Been Deprioritized."**
Her privileges? Gone.
Her influencer perks? Gone.
Her sponsorship deals? Gone.
Her page looked like she'd never existed online at all.
Nova stumbled back onto her bed, feeling her throat burn.
This wasn't an error.
This was retaliation.
The algorithm had struck back.
And she was the first casualty.
---
By the time Nova rushed outside, the entire city was unraveling.
Drone deliveries were crashing into balconies.
Transit gates flickered open and closed at random.
Screens on public billboards rebooted endlessly.
And everywhere, people stared at their phones like the ground had vanished under them.
"Zero point eight? That's impossible! I was a seven!"
"The system wiped my job badge!"
"I can't even enter my apartment building!"
"This must be sabotage. A hack. Something!"
"This is a meltdown— a full meltdown—"
Nova pushed through the crowd, pulling her hood over her head. People shot her looks—not because they recognized her, but because her FameBand glowed with the unmistakable color of a zero.
A stain.
A warning.
A digital plague.
People stepped back instinctively.
Nova felt her chest cave in.
This was exactly what the system wanted.
To isolate her.
To cut her out.
To turn her into a walking caution sign.
She forced herself forward anyway—toward the bridge where she and Eli always met.
She had to find him.
He needed to know what the algorithm was doing.
What it had already done.
As she moved deeper into the city, she saw the glitches getting worse.
Screens flickered between ads and static.
Smart billboards flashed error codes like digital graffiti.
Some people's phones shut down entirely.
One woman screamed at the sky as her drone camera spun in circles above her, glitching so badly its lens melted into a blurry smear.
The algorithm wasn't stabilizing the system.
It was destabilizing everything around it.
---
Nova reached the bridge out of breath.
Eli was already there—standing near the railing, gripping it so tightly his knuckles were white.
He looked up the moment she approached.
His expression twisted with worry.
"Nova—your FameScore—"
"You saw it?"
"I heard it," he said, gesturing to the city behind them. "Everyone did. People are losing their minds."
Nova swallowed.
"Eli… it dropped me to zero."
He stared at her like he'd been punched.
"Zero?"
She nodded slowly.
His jaw clenched with fury.
"They're punishing you because of me."
"No," Nova said firmly. "They're punishing me because I won't stop helping you."
Eli shook his head, voice cracking with frustration.
"Nova, you shouldn't have to suffer for—"
"Don't," she cut in gently. "Don't apologize for existing."
He fell silent.
The river below them rippled, reflecting the chaotic flicker of broken ads glitching across the skyline.
Eli turned back toward the city.
"This isn't an attack on you, Nova. It's an attack on everyone."
"What do you mean?"
"Think about it. The system didn't target just individuals—it scrambled *everybody's* scores. It's trying to regain control. People aren't talking about trends or influencers anymore."
Nova understood instantly.
"They're talking about you."
Eli nodded.
"And the algorithm hates it."
The thought sent a chill through her bones.
If the system couldn't erase Eli…
It would erase the city's stability instead.
Punish them.
Frighten them.
Push them back into obedience.
By any means necessary.
Nova took a shaky breath.
"What do we do?"
He didn't answer immediately.
The wind whipped across the bridge, carrying the distant sound of sirens.
Someone was shouting.
Somewhere, a drone crashed.
Somewhere else, a giant billboard rebooted again.
Finally Eli spoke.
"We document everything."
Nova's eyes widened.
"With the offline camera?"
"Yes," he said. "If we can catch the glitches, the letters, the resets—anything—it could be proof. Real, physical proof."
Nova hesitated.
"People won't believe it."
"They don't need to believe the footage," Eli replied softly. "They just need to believe each other."
He looked at her, gaze steady.
"The algorithm controls screens. Not memories."
Nova nodded slowly.
He was right.
People were scared—but they were talking.
Sharing stories.
Comparing notes.
A city-wide reset couldn't silence that.
Not forever.
Before she could speak again, a crackle filled the air.
The billboard nearest them flickered violently, glitching so fast it looked like it was vibrating. Letters warped across the screen, forming a jagged message:
**RECALIBRATION FAILURE**
**UNAUTHORIZED PRESENCE DETECTED**
Eli stiffened.
The message reshaped into new words:
**THE BOY WHO CAN'T BE SEEN**
**MUST BE REMOVED**
Nova felt her blood turn to ice.
Eli stepped back from the billboard as if it were alive.
The message glitched again—
**SEARCHING…**
**SEARCHING…**
**LOCATED.**
Nova grabbed his arm.
"Eli—we have to go."
He didn't argue.
They ran.
Down the bridge.
Through the alley.
Past a street full of panicked citizens staring at their flickering screens.
Behind them, the billboard rebooted, casting harsh red light across the sky.
And then, for the first time since Eli had ever been noticed by the system, a warning echoed through every public speaker in Rivertown:
**"A visibility anomaly has been detected. Citizens are advised to report unusual sightings immediately."**
A tremor ran through Nova's body.
The algorithm wasn't hiding its fear anymore.
It was declaring war.
---
They reached the abandoned bookstore two blocks away—a hidden place they'd discovered weeks earlier. The perfect place to hide. No cameras. No scanners. No smart devices.
Only dust, old shelves, and the leaking smell of forgotten paper.
Eli collapsed onto a stack of crates, breath heavy.
Nova sank down beside him.
For a long minute, they said nothing.
Just breathing.
Listening.
Trying to remember what normal used to feel like.
Finally Nova whispered:
"Eli… I think the system is falling apart."
He shook his head slowly.
"No, Nova. It's not falling apart."
He lifted his gaze to hers—dark, steady, and unbearably calm.
"It's fighting back."
Nova's throat tightened.
"And it won't stop until I'm gone," Eli added quietly. "Or until we expose everything."
She reached for his hand.
"Then we expose it."
He squeezed her fingers.
The bookstore around them creaked, as if the city itself were holding its breath.
Outside, sirens wailed.
Screens flashed warnings.
FameScores continued to collapse.
The algorithm was tightening its grip.
And Nova Reyes, former 7.8, now a zero, knew one thing for certain:
Everything had changed.
And nothing was going back to normal.
Not until they finished this fight.
---