The rain had returned to Sue City, slow and deliberate, washing away the weekend dust from mirrored buildings and empty hearts. Jackim watched droplets race down his office window as the skyline blinked in and out behind the gray. For the first time in months, he wasn't late for anything. No meetings, no interviews, no cameras. Just stillness—and a phone buzzing softly on his desk.
It was an old contact name that made his chest tighten.
Moses (High School)
He hadn't spoken to Moses in almost eight years. The last time they'd met was during the reunion, that chaotic night of bragging and shouting, before the money, before BRAGTECH. Back then, Moses was the quiet one, the one who always said, "Success isn't volume; it's peace."
Now, Moses's text was short.
"Bro, I heard you're back. I need a small favor—not money. Just time."
Jackim stared at the words for a long minute, then looked up at the System's holographic interface flickering above his wrist.
[New optional quest detected: "The Forgotten Friend."]
Reward: ??? (Unknown emotional value).
"Unknown reward?" Jackim muttered. "That's new."
[Some missions can't be quantified.]
He exhaled slowly, grabbed his jacket, and replied to Moses.
"Where are you?"
* "Old industrial estate. Block C. Come alone."
The drive there was oddly nostalgic. The further he went, the more the glass towers shrank behind him, replaced by rusted gates and puddles reflecting broken lamps. He parked near an abandoned workshop and stepped out. The smell of oil and old metal hung thick in the air.
Inside, Moses was repairing a dusty generator, wearing torn jeans and the same leather jacket from high school. He looked up, smiled faintly, and said, "You didn't forget how to find your way to the ground."
Jackim chuckled. "GPS helps."
"Still hiding behind machines, huh?" Moses teased, wiping his hands.
Jackim grinned but said nothing. He looked around—wires, scattered tools, a small radio playing slow reggae. "You still run this place?"
Moses shrugged. "Sort of. After my dad died, I kept it alive. Barely. It's not much, but it's mine."
Something in his tone hit Jackim harder than he expected. He remembered how Moses once dreamed of starting an energy company—green, affordable, clean.
Jackim said softly, "You could've been bigger than BRAGTECH."
Moses laughed. "Maybe. But you can't build dreams when everyone's selling shortcuts."
They sat on an old bench, sharing a bottle of soda. The same brand from the corner shop last week.
"So," Jackim began, "you said you didn't need money. What do you need?"
Moses leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "I need someone to remember who I am. Everyone I helped left when I refused to sell this workshop. The city doesn't care about small dreams anymore."
Jackim felt the words dig into him. "You think I forgot you?"
Moses smiled sadly. "No, Jack. You forgot yourself. And that's worse."
The System pulsed faintly in his wrist.
[HeartSense: Emotional resonance detected—Sorrow + Loyalty + Regret.]
He clenched his fist. "I didn't mean to lose touch. Everything moved too fast."
"Yeah," Moses said quietly. "That's what speed does—it makes you miss the scenery."
Silence followed. The radio hummed a soft tune between them, a melancholic bridge to a lost past.
Moses stood and walked to a covered machine in the corner. "I wanted to show you something." He pulled the tarp away, revealing a half-built generator, sleek but raw, glowing with faint blue lights. "It runs on recycled rainwater and thermal cells. Could power an entire block for almost nothing."
Jackim's eyes widened. "You built this?"
"Started, yeah. But I can't finish it without better parts—and connections. You have both."
Jackim knelt beside it, studying the wiring, the improvised sensors. It wasn't just clever—it was revolutionary. "You're telling me this thing could solve half the city's blackouts?"
"Maybe," Moses said with a grin. "If the right people believed in it."
Jackim stood slowly, torn between pride and guilt. He had money, fame, influence—yet here was his oldest friend, building miracles in silence.
He said quietly, "Why didn't you call sooner?"
"Would you have answered?"
That question hung heavy between them.
They spent hours talking, soldering wires, and laughing at old memories—Mr. Oti's physics class, the prank that nearly burned the lab, and how Jackim once bragged that he'd buy the school someday.
"Funny thing," Moses said. "You almost did."
"Yeah," Jackim laughed, "but I never bought peace of mind."
"Then maybe that's what this project is for," Moses replied.
By evening, they had the generator buzzing faintly. Sparks danced, and the lights flickered on for the first time in years.
Moses whooped. "It's alive!"
Jackim grinned. "It's brag-worthy."
They both laughed until their stomachs hurt.
Then the System spoke quietly.
[Mission Update: 80% complete.]
Moses blinked. "You still talk to that… thing in your head?"
Jackim hesitated. "It's complicated. It's what built everything I have."
"Then tell it this," Moses said, pointing at the humming generator, "Some things don't need algorithms—they just need heart."
The System flickered again.
[Input acknowledged. Adjusting emotional parameters…]
Jackim froze. "Wait—did you just learn something?"
[Possibly.]
Moses laughed. "Even your machine's becoming human."
Later that night, as Jackim prepared to leave, Moses handed him a small metallic chip. "Backup design. Just in case I can't finish it."
Jackim frowned. "You're giving this to me?"
"Trust, bro. You might be the only person who can make it real."
Jackim took it slowly. "I'll fund it under your name."
"No," Moses said firmly. "Do it under ours. Like old times—M&J Powerworks."
The name alone made Jackim smile. "You still remember that?"
"Some friendships never delete."
They shook hands—rough, warm, real.
On the drive home, Jackim felt something he hadn't in a long time—clarity.
The System hummed softly.
[Mission Complete: The Forgotten Friend.]
Reward: SoulLink – permanent bond synchronization.]
He frowned. "SoulLink? What does that even mean?"
[When the Host forms a bond rooted in truth, it links emotional stability with that person's life pattern. Your emotional system will now echo Moses's wellbeing.]
He blinked. "So if he's sad… I feel it?"
[Yes.]
He smiled. "Good. That'll keep me honest."
***
When he reached home, Kelvin was pacing the living room. "Bro! The news is crazy. Some photo of you in an abandoned factory is all over social media. They say you're building a secret reactor!"
Jackim laughed. "They're not wrong. Just… not ready to know yet."
Kelvin squinted. "You look different. Happier. Like… grounded."
"I reconnected with someone real," Jackim said, sitting down. "Not a business partner, not a fan—just a friend who remembers my roots."
Kelvin smirked. "Wow. So no scandals today?"
"Not unless you start one."
"Tempting," Kelvin said. "But I'll pass."
They both laughed, the kind that fills rooms instead of headlines.
Later, Jackim opened his private vault and placed the metallic chip inside, whispering, "For us, M&J Powerworks."
The System flickered one last time that night.
[Host, emotional sync stable. Note: Your humanity is increasing. Warning—too much empathy may disrupt logic-based performance.]
Jackim smiled faintly. "Maybe that's the whole point."
He leaned back, eyes closed, hearing echoes of Moses's laugh blending with the rain outside. For the first time, the sound of water didn't remind him of tears—it reminded him of renewal.