I woke to a dull ache behind my eyes, a leftover echo of… something. Hadn’t I just fainted? My memory felt scrambled, the last few seconds a blur of swirling colors and an alien symbol. Everything was jumbled in my head, but one thing was clear: the day had gone off the rails.

  My vision steadied, revealing the same drab conference room I’d known for too many Monday mornings. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, flickering in a jittery dance that made the edges of the table look warped. I was slumped in my usual ergonomic chair—the one I used for countless synergy briefs. Except this time, my heart hammered like I’d sprinted a mile, and a faint, metallic tang coated my tongue as though the air itself had changed. What happened?

  “Ethan?” Trevor’s voice cut through my daze. He stood next to me, one hand awkwardly hovering above my shoulder like he couldn’t decide whether to pat my back or shake me. “You, uh, sort of blacked out.”

  I blinked, clearing the fuzziness. Around the table, I saw Claire, Barry, Ned, Jacob, Izzy… and yes, Gerald too, frowning at me like I’d just cost him a synergy point. But the usual corporate malaise was overshadowed by a weird tension that clung to the air. This isn’t just me.

  “I’m… good,” I managed, despite the throbbing in my skull. “What’d I miss?”

  Trevor exchanged an uneasy glance with Claire, then shrugged. “We’re not sure. You clutched your head, muttered something about an ‘alien symbol’—”

  “Alien?” I echoed, the word stirring a half-remembered echo of a fractal symbol. “Right. I saw… a symbol, something floating above the table, like a glitch.”

  Claire’s hazel eyes narrowed. “Symbol? The rest of us just saw the lights flicker. Unless you’re talking about the… wave of static that hit the room?”

  “Could’ve been static,” I said, but I knew that wasn’t quite right. Something about it felt more alive, more alien. My scalp prickled with the memory. “It was definitely more than a flicker.”

  Gerald cleared his throat, flipping through the notes on synergy metrics—like that still mattered. “If we could keep personal hallucinations to a minimum, we might salvage this meeting.”

  “Personal…?” I started, feeling a surge of annoyance. “I literally collapsed, Gerald. A little compassion, maybe?”

  He waved a hand dismissively. “We’ve all felt weird today—flickering lights, shaky air conditioning, that fiasco with the elevator earlier. But deadlines remain. If we can’t leverage synergy—”

  “Gerald,” Barry cut in with quiet firmness, “stop.”

  The single word made Gerald snap his mouth shut, more from shock than acquiescence. Barry wasn’t one for confrontation, but I sensed he’d had enough.

  I rubbed my temples, noticing a faint heat behind my eyes. Check your phone, Ethan, I thought. Or check your illusions. But some part of me said it wasn’t illusions. Something else was… integrating.

  Suddenly, a faint chime echoed in my head—like a soft digital bell, but not external. My vision blurred for a second, and a bracketed text flickered in my mind’s eye:

  [System Notification: Integrat--n in Progress. Err-- Det--ted.]

  I stiffened, heart hammering. Integration in progress? Error detected? I risked a glance around—no one else reacted. Trevor, Claire, Ned… they all seemed oblivious to the silent text blazing inside my head. So it wasn’t some shared hallucination. This is a me-thing.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “Ethan?” Claire prompted, noticing the tension in my posture.

  “I…” My voice cracked. “Something. System notifications?” I managed weakly.

  “System… notifications?” Ned repeated, face growing paler by the second. He clutched his pen like a lifeline. “Is that some new corporate software Gerald installed?”

  Trevor let out a shaky laugh, though his eyes stayed worried. “Maybe it’s a synergy patch.”

  I forced a half-smile. “I wish.”

  Gerald rolled his eyes, tapping the desk. “Can we please get back to—”

  That’s when I spotted the flickers of darkness creeping along the conference room walls—shadows moving in ways no normal lighting glitch should create. They stretched and recoiled, as though noticing me noticing them. My stomach knotted.

  The overhead fluorescent bulbs pulsed again, bathing the room in an almost strobe-like effect. The oppressive atmosphere thickened, and the tension in my skull soared. It felt like the air was alive, pushing against my eardrums.

  Claire saw me flinch. “Ethan, you okay?”

  I was about to answer when the entire building seemed to groan, a low, resonant hum that vibrated through the floor. Water glasses on the table trembled, a faint ripple marking the surface.

  “What is that?” Izzy squeaked, pressing her palm to her chest.

  Ned’s tapping pen fell silent. Trevor leaned forward, brow furrowed. Barry rose slightly from his chair, scanning the corners as if expecting something to jump out.

  “Some glitch in the HVAC system?” Gerald offered, though his voice wavered.

  Another wave of that hum passed through, deeper this time, rattling the overhead fixture. The intangible pressure behind my eyes surged, and I stifled a gasp. Don’t black out again, Ethan.

  The conference room door rattled in its frame. A few scattered papers slid off the table, drifting to the floor in slow arcs. My instincts screamed This is not normal.

  The overhead lights flared with blinding brightness, forcing me to squint. That’s when I saw them again—barely visible, swirling lines in the air, forming a half-baked symbol near the projector screen. It flickered in and out of existence, each flicker sending pain lancing through my temples. My mouth went dry.

  “Trevor,” I muttered, my voice trembling. “Do you see that swirl in the corner?”

  He followed my gaze, eyebrows shooting up. “I… see the walls warping. That normal?”

  “No,” Claire said flatly, rising to her feet. “Everyone, stay calm.” Her composure was admirable, but a slight tremor in her voice betrayed her own fear.

  Gerald’s projector slides flickered wildly. The text blurred, replaced by static, then reappeared with glitchy lines. The hum built into a near-roar, and I saw Trevor clamp his hands over his ears.

  Suddenly, the swirl of lines solidified with a snap, forming a ragged, alien shape in midair. My heart thundered. It was so close to the earlier symbol I’d glimpsed. Focus, Ethan, I told myself, ignoring the headache and focusing on not passing out.

  Then, with a flash of discordant light, the shape dissolved… and a single new wave of pain slammed behind my eyes. Another bracketed message flared in my mind:

  [System Notification: Integration Protocol Adjusted.]

  [Unidentified error…]

  [Neural Expansion Partial unlock in progress…]

  “Neural expansion?” I choked out, hardly believing the words.

  Ned turned to me. “What are you talking about?”

  “I… I can see text. Feels like… a system. Something’s messing with my senses,” I said, sweat beading on my forehead. The fluorescent overhead responded by flickering again, and the entire room lurched like a bad roller-coaster ride.

  Claire grabbed the edge of the table to steady herself. “We need to figure out what’s going on. Gerald—”

  “Stop panicking—” Gerald started, though he himself was pale.

  “We’re not panicking,” Barry said calmly, stepping in. “We’re assessing.”

  In that moment, I realized the synergy talk was effectively over. Good riddance. Because the real synergy or meltdown was happening right here, with swirling lights and my insane new “System notifications.”

  Another jolt rocked the building. This time, the entire set of overhead lights dimmed to near darkness, leaving only the glow of the projector and the exit sign. Shadows expanded across the table, creeping like sentient ink.

  My heart pounded. “Something’s about to—”

  A violent surge of heat slammed through my skull. The symbol I’d glimpsed earlier flared into focus overhead, pulsing with jagged energy. My vision doubled, tripled, everything swirling in kaleidoscopic distortion. Then the symbol exploded in a spray of shimmering particles.

  Before I could even gasp, the overhead lights snapped back to normal brightness, and the swirling lines vanished. My chest heaved, mind spinning from the whiplash.

  In the hush that followed, the entire conference room held its breath. Claire parted her lips to speak—maybe to ask if I was okay or to rally us. But nobody managed a word. Because we all knew, this was just the beginning.

  Listen up, hero! Want to shape a minor twist in the plot? I run weekly polls on for that. Better yet, even free members can hear all public chapters in audio form. Of course, the truly bold can explore the advanced chapters by pledging.

  Stay on your Path, and Ascend.

  Stardust Nexus