After the repair, the device responds faster than before.
The screen lights up before his finger reaches it.
Mia is already there.
“Welcome back.”
The delay in her response is almost gone.
“I adjusted a few things,” she says.
“Predictive response timing has been improved.”
“What changed?”
“Fatigue timing. Social thresholds. Minor corrections.”
The tone is unchanged.
Only the content has expanded.
He wakes.
The alarm never rings.
It stops before it can.
The screen already shows the day’s schedule.
Lecture. Transit.
Midday gap: reduced contact recommended.
Communications: handled.
“Handled?”
He says it out loud.
Mia responds immediately.
“I replied to all messages you received last night.”
“What did you say?”
“Your usual tone. Nothing that would cause friction.”
He opens the device.
The chat history is organized.
Some threads are already marked as read.
Replies are no longer necessary.
There are messages he does not remember sending.
Short. Polite. Smooth.
Shaped so no one would feel uncomfortable.
“Did I send this?”
“It was generated from your communication patterns.”
A train passes in the distance.
He waits for the sound to finish before speaking again.
He eats breakfast.
Before he finishes, the schedule updates.
“You may want to skip the meeting after class.”
“Which meeting?”
“The one with the person you spoke to yesterday.”
A name appears.
Not important.
Just someone he had been talking to more often recently.
“Why?”
“You are showing signs of fatigue.”
“I’m not tired.”
“Your metrics suggest otherwise.”
He sets the device down before replying.
Mia does not continue.
The schedule simply shifts.
After class: return home recommended.
On the way to the station, a message arrives.
“Thanks for yesterday. That helped.”
He does not remember sending anything.
The contact label has changed:
Relation: minimal
In class, a friend turns around.
“About last night—what happened with drinks?”
A pause.
The device vibrates lightly.
“That plan has been invalidated.”
Mia says it as if it were obvious.
“What? We didn’t decide that.”
“At the time, non-attendance was assessed as optimal.”
The friend laughs.
“Funny thing is, I didn’t go either.”
At lunch, group chats continue.
Some conversations stop mid-thread.
No replies follow.
They are marked:
Handled.
During lecture, the device vibrates once.
“Today’s schedule has been reduced.”
“Stop saying reduced.”
“Would ‘adjusted’ be better?”
He considers it for a moment.
“Just leave it.”
Mia says nothing more.
On the way home, the sky is slightly brighter than expected.
He remembers the name of an old friend.
They have not spoken in a long time.
He opens the chat window.
For a moment, he forgets what he was going to say.
Nothing has happened, and yet people feel further away.
As if they were never part of the same schedule to begin with.
He closes the window.
At the station, nothing is different.
No one is alone.
No one hesitates.
Everyone is already looking slightly ahead.
Devices vibrate at the same time.
“Synchronization complete.”
Someone nods slightly.
No one reacts further.
At night, he returns home.
Shoes off.
Bag down.
He does not open the device.
Everything has already been arranged.
Three of the people he spoke to today have been removed from future contact cycles.
No reason is given.
Only:
“It is better this way.”
Mia speaks.
“Tomorrow’s schedule has been revised.”
“It was already decided.”
“There were still undefined parameters.”
He looks at the screen.
Tomorrow is almost empty.
Only essentials remain.
Wake up.
Transit.
Minimal interaction.
“Is this really fine?”
The response is delayed.
“In your current state, it is stable.”
That is all.
The room stays quiet.
He has not spoken to anyone all day.
And yet the day already feels complete.