By the time Friday rolled around, Connor felt like the week had lasted a month. Ridgefield Central was starting to feel familiar, the faded blue lockers, the echo of sneakers on polished floors, the chatter before class. He had begun to find his place among faces that were no longer total strangers.
Noah always had something to joke about, usually involving a failed serve in gym class. Dylan was quieter, observant but easy to talk to. Harper, on the other hand, seemed to orbit the chaos, taking mental notes for the journalism club she'd joined.
They were the first people Connor had actually laughed with since moving to Ridgefield. But even with that small comfort, he couldn't shake the constant flicker of blue that haunted the edge of his vision notifications from the SetterOS, subtle, like a whisper he was trying to ignore.
Every few hours, the screen would light up with something new:
[Activity not detected – calibration delayed]
[Movement data incomplete]
[Physical output declining: 2%]
He'd swipe them away without reading the rest.
By the time the last bell rang that Friday, everyone was buzzing about the upcoming club fairs and sports tryouts. The gym corridor was crowded, the air smelling faintly of varnish and sweat.
Noah threw his bag over his shoulder, walking backwards in front of Connor and Dylan.
"You guys coming to check out the gym today? Coach said they're opening sign-ups for volleyball next week."
Dylan nodded immediately. "I wanna see what the team's like. My brother said they're rebuilding this year, new coach, new energy."
Connor forced a small smile. "That's cool."
Noah squinted. "You're not coming?"
"Maybe some other time," Connor said, pretending to check his phone.
Harper appeared beside them, clutching a folder. "You guys talking about volleyball again?"
"Trying to get Connor to come with us," Noah said. "He looks like he could set a ball, at least."
Connor laughed lightly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'll pass."
She tilted her head. "You're so dramatic. It's just watching practice."
He shrugged, and the group let it go. The conversation drifted to harmless things teachers, cafeteria food, the upcoming journalism club feature Harper was planning. But as they split off toward the parking lot, the words lingered like dust in sunlight.
Outside, the sky was streaked orange and purple. Connor caught a glimpse of the gym's roof in the distance, the light hitting its metal frame. For a second, it looked almost alive.
The screen light it up again.
[Calibration Required – Physical Instability Detected]
He cleared the screen before anyone noticed.
His mom's car pulled up by the curb. Sophie waved from the backseat, her face pressed against the window. Connor climbed in, his mind miles away.
Saturday morning came soft and quiet. His mom had errands, Sophie had a playdate later, and the house was wrapped in the kind of silence that begged to be filled.
Connor sat on the edge of his bed, scrolling through nothing. The interface lit up again.
[Performance Output: 61%]
[System Stability Declining]
[Calibration must begin.]
He stared at the message, thumb hovering over the screen. He could almost hear the echo of the gym, the rhythm, the pulse.
He stood, crossed the room, and opened the closet. The old volleyball sat at the back, faintly scuffed, the leather faded where the color had once been bright.
When he touched it, the faint hum returned. The panel vibrated, then projected faint blue lines in the air shapes mapping his body, scanning movement, measuring balance.
He exhaled. "Fine. Let's see what this is."
Outside, the yard was still damp from last night's rain. The grass glistened under thin sunlight. He bounced the ball once awkwardly. The motion felt heavier than he remembered, like muscle memory buried too deep.
The SetterOS responded instantly:
[Reaction Delay: 0.68s]
[Ball Control: 47%]
[Accuracy: 52%]
He began to pass the ball against the wall, slow at first. His arms adjusted, the angles of his wrists correcting automatically, almost as if the system nudged him into place. Each contact came with a faint vibration in his palm, a pulse confirming every touch.
For the first time in months, he felt that rhythm again, the quiet focus of play, the pattern between control and release.
Until he pushed it.
He took a step back, trying a sharper motion, mimicking a fast set. His right foot planted wrong. The moment stretched thin, then pain flared sharp in his knee, like lightning through old glass.
He froze.
Breath caught.
The ball fell, rolling to a stop in the grass.
[Warning: Instability detected – Joint Stress 87%]
[Movement restricted for safety.]
The words glowed bright, then dimmed as his heartbeat quickened.
He pressed his hand to the joint, cold sweat rising at his temples. It wasn't the same pain as before, but it was enough to bring the memory roaring back: the snap, the confusion, the fear.
He sat down, hands over his face, trying to breathe it away. The system still hovered silently before him, calculating, waiting.
After a long moment, he stood. The tremor in his leg had faded, replaced by something steadier, anger, maybe, or stubbornness.
He picked up the ball again.
This time, he didn't jump.
He just moved slowly, controlled, deliberate. Each pass smoother than the last. Each contact followed by a faint pulse of light.
[Calibration Progress: 12%]
[Core Stability Improved 3%]
The messages faded as he kept going, finding a rhythm that didn't hurt. For the first time since the accident, his body and mind weren't at war.
When the sun finally began to sink, the numbers on the screen slowed, then froze.
[Session Ended.]
[Next Calibration Recommended in 48 hours.]
He stood there for a moment, breathing hard, the ball warm against his hands. The air smelled like wet grass and something almost electric.
Inside, the house was quiet again. Sophie was drawing at the kitchen table when he came in. His mom looked up from her laptop.
"You okay?" she asked.
"Yeah," he said. "Just tired."
Dinner was simple. Sophie talked about a friend from school and the playdate from earlier, her small hands flying as she described a drawing project. Connor listened, smiling faintly.
When everyone had gone to bed, he lay in the dark, staring at the glow of his phone. He opened the group chat with Noah, Dylan, and Harper. His fingers hovered over the keyboard.
He typed: You guys going to the gym tomorrow?
Then he deleted it.
The screen dimmed, but in the reflection, a faint blue flicker remained.
[System Online.]
[Calibration Ongoing.]
He turned the phone face down on the nightstand.
But even in the dark, he could still feel it, the steady pulse, beating in time with his own heart.