The ceiling fan squeaked as it spun lazily, stirring the heavy, humid air of the Manila boarding house. The sound was a constant, almost comforting groan that Rafael Dela Cruz had learned to live with. He lay on his creaking bed, staring at the cracked plaster, his phone's screen flickering with the last remnants of its battery. He'd applied for 36 IT jobs, but the inbox of his outdated budget model was a graveyard of silence.
His IT degree meant nothing when half the country's graduates were clutching the same diploma, all hoping to escape the same poverty. His father's fishing boat was a wreck from the last typhoon, and his mother's sari-sari store was surviving on debt. The meager income from repairing neighbors' old gadgets wasn't enough to cover his younger sister's tuition, which was due next week.
Rafael pinched the bridge of his nose, the gnawing exhaustion a familiar companion. "At this rate… I'm just another statistic," he muttered. The bitter thought clung to him. Just yesterday, he'd seen Kuya Bong, the tricycle driver from down the street, waving a stack of flyers for a new online trading course. "Eto na, Rafa! Pang-yaman 'to!" (This is it, Rafa! This is for getting rich!) he'd bellowed, but Rafael knew better. They were all just scraping by, trading hopes for pennies.
He reached for the small wooden chest under his bed, a relic from his late grandfather. He'd gone through its contents countless times before—yellowed letters, a rusted lighter, a family photo. But tonight, a new object caught his eye.
Nestled in the corner was a black cube, smooth as obsidian, with faint silver lines glowing beneath its surface.
"This wasn't here before," he whispered, reaching out.
As his fingers brushed the cube, it pulsed, sending a jolt of cold energy up his arm. The glow intensified, and then a voice rang inside his head.
"Codex detected. Host recognized. Initialization commencing."
Rafael jerked back, almost dropping the cube. His heart hammered in his chest. "What the hell?!"
The air shimmered. A holographic interface unfolded before his eyes, a layered, translucent vision of cascading code. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, but the display remained, projected directly into his mind.
Codex System v0.1
Status: Dormant.
Functions Available: Scan, Optimize, Simulate.
Energy Source: Neural link.
Host: Rafael Dela Cruz.
His mouth went dry. "A… system? Like in those webnovels?"
Almost on instinct, he picked up his dying phone, its screen now at 3% battery. He held it near the cube.
[Scanning…]
Device Identified: Cheap Android smartphone.
Weaknesses Detected: Battery degradation, inefficient processors, outdated firmware.
Simulation Available: Optimization paths – 142.
→ Predicted Upgrade: High-efficiency battery; doubled processor speed; energy recycling up to 92%.
Rafael's jaw dropped. "That's… impossible."
"Host may attempt prototype upgrade using available resources. Simulation suggests success probability: 87%."
His breathing quickened. With trembling hands, he fetched a precision screwdriver from his cluttered desk. He had tinkered with electronics before, but always in frustration, barely earning anything from fixing second-hand gadgets for neighbors. This time, under the Codex's guidance, every motion felt precise, inevitable. He dismantled the phone, reconnected circuits, and adjusted wiring as the holographic blueprint shifted in real-time.
Minutes later, the screen lit up. It wasn't dim and flickering, but vibrant and bright. The battery read 100%, and the percentage hadn't dropped despite ten minutes of usage.
Optimization complete.
Rafael stared at the glowing screen, his chest heaving. "This…" He swallowed hard. "This is real."
The possibilities crashed into him like a tidal wave. If the Codex could do this to a cheap phone, what could it do to… laptops? Solar panels? Medicine? Cars?
For the first time in years, his despair cracked open, and inside burned a new flame. Ambition.
"Host linked. Progression begins. Data is power. Knowledge is dominion."
The Codex's cold voice echoed in his mind.
Rafael looked at the phone in his hand. For the first time in his life, he wasn't just a broke, forgotten Filipino. He was holding the key to rewriting everything.