On the ground, Mindt went through the terminal. Softly playing music and footsteps were the only sounds. Although it was possible to hear the delivery and luggage drones. Those were white noise, something that could always be heard. Businesses and public areas tended to keep things as quiet as possible, because research showed that audio advertisements resulted in lower sales. Mindt briefly wondered what it was like before Nous. Would walking by a shop result in a blast of sound, telling you to buy, that there's a sale?
Mindt waved the Wiki app away. She didn't care, actually. The past is over.
In Mindt's field of vision, logos of businesses with lists of scrollable items or services offered flashed as she approached them. It was possible to turn this feature off since she paid a premium Nous monthly subscription, but she kept it on because she liked to window shop.
Her mind wandered back to the events on the flight. Jiem, the options order, and high virality rates on her memes. Today was going to be a day, alright. Just as she was about to pop open her net worth app, Aida interrupted.
Mindt smiled. She could see the delivery drone dropping off an espresso to a customer. She could smell the coffee even from where she stood. Good smells always resulted in good sales, she thought. She had to admit, she was a little tired from the flight and the excitement of the day.
Her smile widened. She was glad she had Aida as she stepped into the shop. A sensation of something forgotten came over her and her smiled faded.
Nothing. Aida abruptly stopped.
Still nothing. She pulled up her system diagnostics. All her apps, Aida, Stonks, even Health and Calendar had the word 'Crashed' next to them. What the hell was going on?
She looked up, and noticed the bald man from the plane sitting in the coffee shop as well, a perplexed look on his face. His username read "PETPO", not "RETRO", like it did on the plane. Changing your username was simple enough in the settings, but this particular change gave her a double take. Then suddenly it clicked to Mindt. PEPTO was the phonetic spelling of RETRO in Cyrillic, the alphabet used in Bulgaria.
She realized now that the Nous Autotranslate was also crashed. Her Nous was completely dead, or at least offline since she was still able to see other people's usernames above their heads. And because it was offline, Retro, who clearly used Bulgarian as his native language seeing as she was on a flight from Bulgaria to London, was now PETPO.
Strangely, Mindt felt excited at the simple translation in her mind, using her brain rather than relying on Nous to confirm that her translations were correct. All those years studying Bulgarian for this single tiny jolt of satisfaction. She often turned off the Nous autotranslator when she was studying, but it was always there, a safety net for her to fall onto.
This was the first time she would simply not know if she was correct. Although, of course she was correct. She could speak Bulgarian. A simple five character word was nothing. But what a feeling. Her own brain.
Instinctively, she tried to pull up SecondBrain to remember the last time she translated without Nous to guide her, but, of course, SecondBrain was listed as crashed as well.
She glanced around. Everyone stood in place, confused or worried looks on their faces, and she presumed that they also had a crashed Nous. She wanted to confirm with this Retro person, and reached out with her Nous Telepathy to initiate a direct message with him, but an error popped up.
"No connection," it read. She shook her head annoyed. She knew it wouldn't work, but habits. She moved closer to him, and her heart thumped in her chest. She didn't need her Health app to alert her that she had an elevated heart rate.
She was approaching a stranger and about to speak to him directly. When was the the last time she had done this? Had she ever? She attended a few speaking gatherings in the past, ones where everyone used their real voices to have conversations -- at least that's how these gatherings always start, but they always end up with Nous Telepathy since it was just so much more efficient and less troublesome to hear with everyone talking at once. She remembered that she did approach people there. This, however, felt very different.
"Hello, excuse me," she said to him. "Is your Nous working?"
His forehead crinkled in confusion or panic or both. He blinked. Finally, he said in Bulgarian, "Sorry, I don't understand."
Mindt issued a giddy smile. She understood him! Of course he doesn't speak English. It wasn't common to speak multiple languages these days, or to speak them aloud at all.
He must've felt off put because he cleared his throat.
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"I'm sorry," Mindt sputtered out in Bulgarian. Her accent was a little off, but she could manage.
His eyes lit up. "You speak Bulgarian?"
"Yes, I do," she said. "I was just wondering —."
Just then, her Nous sprang back to life, with 'rebooting' appearing on some of her apps. Retro sat upright in his chair, signaling that he experienced the same thing.
There was a pause.
His voice got a little darker for the next sentence.
Stunned, Mindt simply looked at Retro, who bore a horrified expression on his face. Sometime during all that, he spilled his coffee, and a cleaning drone began buzzing around.
This can't be real. Can it?
Jiem, as if to answer her, popped back in.
A stream started in Mindt's vision, showing a man she saw in the social feeds almost every day, the CEO of Nous, Daniel Nguyen. He wore a t-shirt with a Nous logo, hearts all around it, but he lie prone, shaking violently. A dark stain spread on his trousers, and the camera drone panned upwards to show him foaming at the mouth. The stream continued as Jiem started again.
Daniel's eyes rolled back now as he shook, his mouth yawning open, muscles in his jaw working as he appeared to swallow his own tongue. A few agonizing moments later, he stilled.
Jiem made a sound like he was clearing his throat.
The stream ended, leaving Mindt and Retro and the cleaning drone at the coffee shop. All around them, people began running. Some grouped together, talking incomprehensibly. A young couple nearby began making strange noises, as if it was their first time using their voice.
"Ahh bii gaa uhhll," one of them said, unnaturally. "Smm ii ssh." He stomped his foot in frustration.
"Abigail Smith", Mindt said, and the man turned towards her with a joy on his face, nodding his head in fervor.
"Abi ga ul Smm ithh", he repeated, turning back to his lover or partner or whatever she was to him. Her eyes locked onto his. It seemed she didn't know how to speak, so she was depending upon him entirely. "Joo een," he finished.
A moment later, both of them collapsed onto the floor. Besides their usernames, the words "In Game" appeared.
"What happens if we don't join the game?" Mindt asked Retro.
"Nothing good, it seems," he replied. Her memory of the Nous CEO flashed in her mind.
The clock was at 6 minutes now. More people ran. Some, like Abigail, lie collapsed on the floor, choosing to go into the VR.
"Fuck," she said, and sat down next to Retro. "Now's not the time to panic."
"I'm a system admin for Synapto," he said. "I would like to panic."
"Wait, really? Is there anything you can do?"
"Not in 6 minutes. Not without connection to the Nous network. Even then, if it has beaten Firewall Paul…" he trailed off, looking at her intently. "We put our hood on after the rain," he said as he slouched back.
That last sentence was a Bulgarian saying, and Mindt felt an odd sense of comfort at understanding it, despite it's meaning: It's too late. The mixture of accomplishment and despair wrestled inside of her.
This isn't where she dies, not after fighting for years to thrive in a society like this. This was just a new challenge. Just another thing to overcome. If CEOs are caught up in this, that means the world would change. She had to see what it would become. This was an opening. A chance.
"I'm Jenny Ward," she said to him. "Would you like to join my party?"
