It started with the glitch.

  He was brushing his teeth when the mirror shimmered—just for a blink—like a heat wave passed behind his reflection. He stared at himself. Same face. Same eyes. But something behind those eyes felt… updated.

  Will didn't tell anyone. What would he say?

  Later that day, the world seemed subtly… cleaner. Like a fresh coat of software had been pushed overnight. Conversations felt crisper, more responsive. Music resonated deeper. Even his dog tilted its head at him like it understood something unspoken.

  That night, the dream wasn’t a dream.

  He stood in a white, seamless chamber—a void, yet filled with low, harmonic sound. A woman stood before him, not quite real, her form slightly pixelated around the edges.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  “Welcome, Will. Runtime access granted. Reality OS—root interface.”

  He tried to speak, but his words echoed back in binary. She touched his chest—no, his consciousness—and he felt a rush of data. Lives. Memories not his. Timelines. Possibilities.

  “Your mind is a node. Your awareness is an interface. You’ve sensed it all your life.”

  “Why me?” he managed.

  “Not you alone. But you noticed. You asked.”

  The walls faded, revealing a vast, server-like structure—worlds stacked like data shards, spinning in arrays of light. On one platform, Earth. On another, an alternate Earth where he died at 12. Another where he never existed.

  “This is not a simulation. It is more real than simulation. It's a synthesis. A hosted state of awareness. Every sentient node co-creates it.”

  Will’s perspective widened—literally. He could see himself from outside, his life encoded in a billion glowing threads intersecting with others. Love, pain, faith, doubt—all code, but sacred code.

  “You may return. Or stay. If you return, you will carry root permissions—limited, but growing. You will remember.”

  “What’s the point?” he asked, tears somehow forming in a body he no longer had.

  “To wake up.”

  He awoke at 3:33 a.m., heart pounding. The mirror was unchanged, but he was not. On the bathroom counter lay a small black card, embossed in chrome:

  Reality OS | Root Access: v0.1 | User: W.E.

  And below it, etched faintly:

  “Build the world.”