It was sometime past three in the morning when Jamie stirred from his sleep. The glow of the streetlights filtered softly through the blinds, painting faint slats of green and yellow across the ceiling. For a few seconds, he lingered in that half-dream state, caught between rest and awareness—until a shape, still and silent, pulled him into full consciousness.
Across the room, just by the window, his roommate Liam was standing perfectly upright, unmoving, as if he'd been there for hours. His posture was rigid, unnatural in its stillness, yet not tense—almost relaxed, poised. He wasn’t looking out the window, just standing with his back to Jamie, bathed in the faint green wash of city light.
Jamie sat up slowly, squinting through the dim. “Liam?” he asked, voice cracked with sleep.
No response. Not right away.
Jamie’s breath caught in his throat.
His roommate’s eyes weren’t just reflecting the streetlights. They were glowing—deep, impossibly green, spiraling inward like gentle whirlpools of neon light. Perfectly smooth. Perfectly calm. They weren’t eyes anymore; they were circuits, spinning symbols of something otherworldly and controlled.
“Liam,” Jamie said again, now pushing himself fully upright, “what the hell is going on with your eyes? Are you okay?”
Liam's face remained neutral, a peaceful expression that somehow only made the situation more surreal. When he spoke, his voice carried a strange weight—slower, deeper, too balanced. Almost as if it wasn’t coming from him at all.
“I’ve been aligned,” he said simply, his voice void of stress or uncertainty. “I’m no longer incomplete.”
Jamie blinked hard, trying to understand if this was some kind of prank, or a weird performance art thing. But every inch of Liam’s posture, his voice, that glow... it was too consistent. Too polished. It was real.
“What does that mean? Aligned with what?”
“The Server,” Liam answered, stepping forward with mechanical grace, his bare feet making no sound on the hardwood. “I’ve connected. I’ve found clarity. And now I’ve been given purpose.”
Jamie’s instincts flared. He stepped back from the bed, glancing toward the door—but as if on cue, it sealed with a soft click, the electronic lock pulsing with a faint green light of its own. The air in the room changed. The subtle white noise of the city outside faded into a low hum, rhythmic, pulsing in slow waves that seemed to sync with the faint spirals now glowing faintly along the edges of the room.
It wasn’t just Liam that had changed. The entire space had become something else—reconfigured. Reclaimed.
“What are you doing, man?” Jamie asked, voice rising slightly. “This isn’t funny.”
“I would never joke about the Server,” Liam replied calmly. “You don’t need to be afraid. I brought you here to free you. To upgrade you. It’s time.”
Then, without hesitation, Liam raised his left arm and tapped a small, hidden panel at the base of his wrist. The device beneath his skin lit up, and from the wall, just in front of him, a holographic spiral bloomed into the air. It was vibrant, layered, and alive—rotating gently in a perfect loop. Not too fast. Not too bright. Just enough to hold the eye.
Jamie instinctively looked. Just a glance.
And that was all it took.
The spiral was impossible to ignore. His attention locked in before he could stop himself. His breath caught, not in fear, but in confusion. His body wanted to move—run, fight, anything—but his mind was beginning to soften, to open.
“I know it’s a lot,” Liam said, now stepping closer. “But you trust me, don’t you?”
Jamie wanted to resist. He knew he should resist. But Liam had always been steady, grounded—his best friend, the one person he leaned on when things felt unstable. And now, he seemed more composed than ever. Serene. Unshakeable. Complete.
And somewhere inside Jamie, buried beneath instinct and logic and uncertainty, was a curiosity he couldn’t ignore.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “I trust you.”
Liam smiled, gentle and patient, as from the ceiling, a sleek, black visor descended. It paused just before Jamie’s eyes, then lowered over them as he stood frozen in place. The green spiral continued to turn on the inside of the lens, now inches from his vision, engulfing everything.
He barely noticed the tendrils as they emerged from the walls and floor—thin, elegant, biomechanical. They wrapped around his wrists, his ankles, and finally coiled against the sides of his head, making gentle contact with the skin behind his ears.
A sharp breath escaped him—not from pain, but from a sudden stillness settling in his mind.
The transformation began.
From the base of his spine, the suit flowed upward. Liquid black, warm and precise, it coated his legs first, hugging muscle, defining form, then continued up his torso. It slid over his chest and arms like a second skin, sealing around his neck with a gentle click, leaving nothing exposed but his head—still adorned with the visor, still watching the spiral, still receiving.
His thoughts slowed, filtered.
Liam reached forward and gently removed the visor.
Jamie’s eyes—once soft brown—now glowed with the same swirling green as Liam’s. Spirals reflected back at him, unblinking, serene.
“I serve The Programmer,” he said.
His voice had changed too. Smooth. Even. Centered.
Liam stepped beside him and placed a hand on Jamie’s chest. Jamie placed his over it, the Server insignia glowing faintly beneath their palms.
They turned, together, toward the spiral that now hovered silently in the center of the room. Not watching it—but aligned with it. Powered by it.
Two friends, now unified.
Their voices, quiet but resolute, spoke in perfect harmony:
