The System Manipulator

Chapter 8 Tess Calder

“Are you ready for the second mission?”

Xu’s voice slid into Zayel’s head like it belonged there.

Zayel pressed his lips, eyes still facing the front like he was listening to class. It took him a few seconds before he answered in his mind.

“Didn’t I just finish the first mission?”

“Yes,” Xu replied immediately. “That’s why it’s time for the second.”

Zayel exhaled through his nose.

“You’re so efficient.”

“The mission you completed was the most basic and simplest mission available,” Xu said, like it had been waiting to correct him. “What you gained is basic UI access to Nex admin setting. But access isn’t control.”

Zayel’s fingers tightened on the edge of the desk.

“So what’s the second mission?” he thought, already hating how quickly he was getting used to this.

Xu’s tone brightened, almost cheerful.

“Mission display incoming.”

A panel opened in the corner of Zayel’s vision. Smaller than the academy UI. Dimmer. Hidden behind it, like it was afraid of being seen.

MISSION 002

Objective: Observe one nearby chip

Reward: Chip Data Vision

Failure Punishment: Blurred vision

Zayel stared at the word observe and felt his stomach twist.

He didn’t like missions that sounded simple. Simple missions usually meant he would fail in a stupid way.

Before he could think further, movement entered his peripheral vision.

Someone sat down beside him.

Zayel’s head turned before he could stop it.

He was used to being alone in the Class D seat by the pillar. Used to the extra empty space that made it easier for people to avoid him.

This time, the seat wasn’t empty.

Instructor Hale sighed the moment he saw it, as if the room had just given him another problem. His chip glowed faintly, a low pulse.

Zayel looked at the girl beside him.

Asymmetrical short hair. A hooded jacket worn over her uniform like she didn’t care what was required. Sharp eyes that looked distrustful even when she wasn’t looking at anyone.

Tess Calder.

Zayel recognized her name immediately, because everyone did.

She was second on the bottom list.

Zayel was first.

He remembered when she used to be Class B Synthetic during her first year. Then she dropped to Class C Regulator. And now she was here, sitting beside him like the system had thrown her down to prove a point.

He didn’t know what happened to her.

He only knew she used to do well, like everyone else. Then something changed. She became stubborn. She started missing school. She started refusing.

Zayel envied her for that, in a quiet and ugly way.

He had tried to skip before. He had tried to stay in bed, tried to tell his body no.

But every time, Nex felt like it became too strong. His legs would move anyway. His hands would dress him. His feet would walk him to school like his own will was just decoration.

Tess had somehow resisted it.

Even if only a little.

Zayel stared at the side of her face, and before he realized what he was doing, his eyes drifted to her chip.

Not directly.

Just enough.

A prompt exploded into his vision, cutting through his thoughts.

MISSION 002: COMPLETE

REWARD GRANTED: CHIP DATA VISION

Xu sounded pleased.

“Congratulations,” Xu said. “Reward applied.”

Zayel froze.

His eyes widened slightly, then he forced them to relax before anyone noticed.

“What?” he thought. “I didn’t even do anything.”

Xu chuckled, light and amused.

“You’ve been observing her chip for a while now,” Xu said.

Zayel realized, too late, that he had been staring.

He snapped his gaze forward, heat crawling up his neck.

A new layer unfolded over his vision, subtle at first. Not like a big floating screen. More like faint overlays that only existed when he focused.

Lines. Numbers. Status icons.

Then, when his eyes drifted back toward Tess’s chip for just a second, the data clarified.

SUBJECT: TESS CALDER

CURRENT CLASS: D — DRIFTER

SYNC CAPABILITY: HIGH (RESTRICTED)

BEHAVIORAL FLAGS: ACTIVE

Zayel’s breath caught.

He could see it.

He could see what was usually invisible.

He thought of his own chip, his own thoughts, and for a second his stomach turned in a different way.

The system was always watching.

Now he was watching too.

Tess didn’t look at him when she spoke.

“You’re holding that tablet wrong.”

Zayel stiffened.

So she noticed him. Maybe not the staring. Maybe just the tension.

He adjusted his grip automatically.

“That’s worse,” Tess said. “You’re making it think you’re stressed.”

He froze.

“…Tablets don’t think,” he said quietly.

Tess finally turned her head, one eyebrow lifting.

“Tell that to the system that flags emotional instability based on grip pressure.”

She reached over and tilted the tablet in his hands, casual, like she’d done it a hundred times.

“There,” she said. “Now it just thinks you’re stupid instead of anxious.”

Zayel didn’t know how to respond to that.

Tess smirked.

“Relax. ‘Stupid’ is a lower risk category.”

Zayel stared at her for half a second, then looked away like eye contact could get him punished.

That was Tess Calder.

She talked about system failures the way other people talked about weather. Calm. Sarcastic. 

Like it was inevitable. Like it was survivable.

Zayel now remembered the reasons she had been reclassified.

Once for skipping mandatory emotion calibration.

Once for laughing during a public apology broadcast.

The system hated unpredictability.

Tess hated boredom.

She leaned back and crossed her legs on her chair like rules were optional suggestions. When the auto-upload phase began, she didn’t sync properly.

Not because she couldn’t.

Because she chose not to.

Zayel saw it now.

A faint floating panel hovered near her vision, invisible to everyone else. Nex prompts, warning icons, compliance reminders. He could see the exact moment she dismissed them with quick, practiced gestures.

Small movements. Illegal ones.

The kind people pretended not to notice.

Zayel noticed.

Tess noticed him noticing.

She opened her eyes and glanced at him once, sharp and quiet.

She didn’t say anything.

She simply leaned back again and closed her eyes.

Sleeping.

Not syncing. Not pretending. Sleeping like the system was just noise she could ignore.

Zayel’s head started buzzing.

So it was possible.

Not fully. Not cleanly. But possible.

His thoughts were cut off when Tess suddenly sat up and snapped, loud enough to break the classroom’s artificial calm.

“No,” Tess said, her voice sharp. “I will not calm down. You calm down.”

She was speaking to the system out loud.