When they arrived home, Sarah wasted no time getting Maya ready and tucked into bed. Petter, meanwhile, splashed cold water on his face at the sink in an attempt to soothe the heat on the back of his neck. As he headed toward his room, he encountered his mother in the dimness of the corridor.
Only the orange beam of the streetlight leaked into the unlit hallway, causing shadows to dance across the wooden parquet floors. Leaning against the wall with her head slightly bowed, Sarah wore a chic navy blue linen dress that had creased slightly with the fatigue of the day, settling more snugly into the curves of her body. The laughter remaining on her face from the park had been replaced by a deep, pensive expression as she gently bit her lip.
Approaching silently, Petter asked, "What is it, mom?" His voice, slightly louder than a whisper, echoed with a full and resonant tone within the silence.
Startled, Sarah took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "I'm going to the company tomorrow," she said. "Just a check-up... The new project, the bank affairs..." Despite her weary voice, her eyes were fixed on her son as he drew closer.
Closing the distance between them, Petter asked, "Is it because of the Omni-Chamber?" as he placed his hand on his mother's waist.
Sarah nodded, shifting as if uncomfortable, yet she did not pull away. "Giving that much money all at once... It unsettles me. And where will we install it? Your room isn't that big..."
Seizing upon his mother's anxious state, Petter grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close. His hands could feel her soft skin through the fabric of her dress. He kneaded her waist lightly with his fingers, leaning his body against hers. "My beautiful queen," he whispered, his breath hitting the woman's neck. "Don't worry about these things. Everything is under my control."
Feeling the hardness of her son's body and the wandering of his hands, Sarah's breath hitched. She moved her shoulders slightly as if to object and placed her hands on Petter's chest. "Petter... Don't..." she said, her voice not entirely convincing. "You're too close... Maya will wake up."
Instead of stopping, Petter gently tugged at her dress near her hip. "Let her sleep," he said nonchalantly.
Trying to compose herself in the face of this increasing audacity, Sarah pressed her hands against her son's chest and began to push him gently backward, toward his own room. There was both a smile and a warning on her face. "Come on now, to your room," she whispered. "You haven't even paid the price yet; you can't get a reward. Move."
Pretending to allow his mother to push him, Petter stopped with an unexpected move just as they reached the front of his door. Grabbing his mother from under her arms, he lifted her into the air in a single motion. "Hii!" gasped Sarah, her feet swept off the ground.
Barging inside with his mother in his arms, the young man pushed the door shut with his foot and leaned his back against it. Forced to wrap her legs around Petter's waist by reflex to keep from falling, Sarah's navy blue dress rode up, her legs making contact with her son's trousers.
"Put me down! Are you crazy?" whispered Sarah, but her voice was excited. She battered Petter's face with her hands, pinching his cheeks, pushing his forehead. It was like she was wrestling with a naughty cat. "Let me go, you spoiled brat!"
Petter responded to the sweet attacks on his face with laughter. "Never!" he declared, burying his head in the crook of his mother's neck, moving his fingers toward her armpits, and suddenly beginning to tickle her.
Squirming in his arms and letting out muffled laughter, Sarah moaned, "No! Ah! Petter, stop! I'm ticklish!" Although she tried to pull his hair and push his face away, Petter planted loud, wet kisses one after another on his mother's cheek, neck, and chin.
"To cancel the penalty from the park!" murmured Petter between kisses. His mother's scent and the warmth of her body were making him dizzy.
Breathless, Sarah groaned, "Okay! Okay, stop!"
Petter stopped tickling but didn't put down the burden in his arms; instead, he walked slowly toward the bed. He sat Sarah on the edge of the bed gently but authoritatively. As the woman sat on the bed, her dress was gathered high up, her hair was messy, and her chest was heaving.
As he pulled back, Petter feigned an accident, slowly and deliberately rubbing the side of his leg against his mother's bare knee and thigh with pressure, instantly changing the air in the room. Playfulness had given way to an intense electricity.
"Don't worry," the young man said, his voice growing husky as he locked his eyes with his mother's. "We are three. Life granted us to each other. Everything will be resolved."
Taking a deep breath as she sat on the edge of the bed, Sarah was filled with the tingling sensation left by the friction on her legs. She was torn by complex emotions in the face of her son's attitude, which was both protective and demanding. "I know..." she said, standing up with a sudden decision and taking a step toward Petter.
Taking his mother's movement as an invitation, Petter grabbed her by the waist the moment she stood up, glued her to himself, and planted a hard, passionate, almost breathtaking kiss on her lips. This was not an ordinary son's kiss; it was a man's kiss.
Frozen for a moment, Sarah's eyes went wide. Gathering her wits suddenly against Petter, who was just parting from her lips and pulling back with a triumphant expression on his face, Sarah whispered, "You..."
Lifting her left knee as hard as the tight skirt allowed, the woman had put aside the jokes. The knee struck hard, right on target: Petter's groin.
"Ahhh!" groaned Petter, doubling over in pain and instinctively bringing his hands to his crotch. His eyes were watering, but a crooked smile still remained on his lips.
Sarah, throwing her hair back and straightening her dress, had a flushed face and a sharp gaze. "I told you, you hadn't paid the price!" she said breathlessly. "Now get out, go to your room! Or else there's more to come!"
Grinning despite the pain, Petter tried to straighten up, reached out, and with one final move, thoroughly messed up his mother's already disheveled hair. "It was worth it!" he said in a hoarse voice.
By the time Sarah raised her hand, he had already bolted out the door and started running toward his own room.
Left alone in the dim room, the woman sat back down on the edge of the bed. Her heart was beating as if it would burst out of her chest. She brought her hand to her lips, which Petter had just kissed. There was a mixture of astonishment, anger, and an excitement she couldn't hide on her face. "God..." she whispered into the darkness. "What am I going to do with this boy?"
The first light of dawn filtered through the kitchen window, casting long, golden stripes across the wooden floor. The soothing scent of freshly brewed coffee and toasted bread filled the air. Maya sat at the table, staring absentmindedly into her bowl of cornflakes, while Petter poured himself a cup of coffee. The house had woken to a calm morning, as usual. Until the sharp, rhythmic clatter of stiletto heels descending the stairs sliced through the tranquility like a knife, drawing all attention.
When Sarah appeared at the top of the stairs, Petter froze before he could bring the coffee cup to his lips. The woman before him was not his usual, relaxed, domestic mother. This was an unattainable, powerful, and dizzying woman.
She wore a slate-grey pencil skirt that hugged her body like a second skin, sitting at her waist and ending just below her knees. The fabric of the skirt was of such high quality that it followed the movement of her hips with every step, reflecting the light and emitting silvery glimmers. Above it, she wore an ivory-colored, pure silk blouse. While the blouse's high, ruffled collar made her neck look elegant like a swan, the silk fabric wrapped around the shape of her breasts softly but distinctly. She had pulled her hair back into a tight, flawless bun at the nape of her neck; not a single strand had escaped, which revealed the sharp beauty of her facial features. Her makeup was understated but lethal: Thin eyeliner that looked even more dangerous when she squinted, and a bold, matte red lipstick on her lips that contrasted with the paleness of her skin.
Petter's mouth fell slightly open, his eyes taking a slow, scrutinizing tour of his mother, starting from her ankles and moving up. He placed the cup in his hand onto the counter slowly, almost unconsciously. "Wow," he whispered, his voice full of admiration.
The sound of her heels echoed on the parquet as Sarah entered the kitchen. Petter put his hands under his chin and continued to examine her. "Wait a minute... Is the Queen of England coming to the company today? Or did you secretly snag a 'Femme Fatale' role in a Hollywood movie?"
Sarah smiled slightly at her son's exaggerated reaction but didn't break her posture. "Don't exaggerate, Petter. There's just an important board meeting."
Maya spoke with her mouth full. "Mom, why are you so shiny?"
Petter cut off his mother's path to the coffee machine. With a serious expression, he said, "No, no. This isn't 'just a meeting' outfit. This is an 'I will take over the world and crush it under my heels' outfit."
Sarah wanted to gently push her son aside, but Petter didn't budge. As the woman passed by him, Petter leaned in and pretended to brush imaginary dust off her shoulders, his fingers lingering a bit too long on the silk fabric. "Perfect. Not a single flaw."
Just then, the honk of the school bus was heard from outside. Maya bolted up, quickly distributed her kisses, and went out the door.
The door closed. The sound of the lock was heard. And the atmosphere inside the house changed within that second.
With Maya's departure, the "family breakfast" mask in the kitchen fell away. Only that stunning woman rising on her high heels and her son looking at her with hungry admiration remained.
When Sarah headed to the counter to get her bag, Petter approached silently from behind. Just as Sarah reached for her bag, Petter's hands rested on the counter on either side of the woman, caging her in. Sarah paused; she could feel the heat behind her.
"Petter..." Sarah said without turning around. Her voice was warning, but she wasn't running away. "I'm going to be late."
"The meeting can wait," whispered Petter, bringing his face close to his mother's neck. He rubbed his nose against the sensitive skin exposed just below her bun. "This scent... Is it new?"
Sarah held her breath. Her son's breath had given her goosebumps. She turned around slowly; she was now leaning against the counter and was nose to nose with Petter. "Yes," she said, averting her eyes. "Now move."
But Petter didn't move. On the contrary, taking another step, he touched his legs to his mother's. His eyes were locked on that slate-grey pencil skirt on his mother. He raised his hand, slowly stroking the fabric of the skirt down the curve of her hip with the back of his fingers. "This skirt..." he said in a husky voice. "It's very tight, mom. How do you breathe in it?"
Sarah swallowed as she watched the movement of her son's hand. Petter's fingers were burning her skin even through the fabric. "It's a business outfit, Petter. To look professional," she said, but her voice came out shaky.
"Professional?" Petter laughed lightly and slid his hand up the side seam of the skirt toward her waist, stopping there and squeezing her waist. "I don't think there's any way any man in that meeting room can focus on work with this outfit. Do you know what will be going through all their minds?"
Sarah lifted her head and looked into her son's eyes. Her red-lipsticked lips parted slightly. "What will be going through them?" she asked in a whisper, aware that she was entering a dangerous game.
Petter brought his face closer, his lips touching his mother's ear. "They will say, 'If only that meeting table wasn't there so we could see more closely how this skirt hugs those hips.'"
A slight flush rose to Sarah's cheeks. She lifted her hand and placed it on Petter's chest, wanting to push him, but her fingers got caught in the buttons of his shirt. "You..." she said breathlessly, "are very indecent."
"I'm just honest," said Petter. Taking his hand from his mother's waist, he brought it to the buttons of the silk blouse, right over her breast. He felt the slippery texture of the fabric with his fingertips. "And this silk... It feels so good to touch..." He slowly ran his fingers over the ruffles on the collar of the blouse, then gently pulled his mother's lower lip down with his thumb, careful not to smudge that red lipstick.
Sarah's eyes darkened. Her body was reacting to these daring touches of her son. To the extent the pencil skirt allowed, she moved her leg slightly; the tip of her high-heeled shoe rubbed against Petter's ankle. "I need to go, Petter," she said, but she didn't budge. "Let me go."
"I don't want to let go," said Petter, fixing his eyes on his mother's lips. He leaned one hand behind his mother on the counter and grabbed her chin with the other. "It's hard to leave you like this, so flawless and... forbidden."
Sarah took a deep breath, puffing out her chest. This movement caused the silk blouse to stretch even further. The authoritarian glint returned to her eyes. "Don't talk to me about forbidden," she said, her voice velvety but sharp. She put her hand on the back of Petter's neck, digging her nails slightly into his scalp. She didn't pull his head back; on the contrary, she pulled it closer. "I am your mother. And right now... I am your boss. Get out of my way."
Although this sounded like an order, the hand on his neck was pulling Petter toward her. Petter smiled; he loved this challenge. "As you command, Your Majesty," he said with mocking obedience.
But before pulling back, he made a sudden and harsh move. Grabbing his mother by the waist, he glued her to himself thoroughly, pressing his groin against the woman's stomach. Then, bending down quickly, he planted a wet and loud, almost biting hard kiss on that most sensitive spot of her neck, right over her jugular vein.
A stifled moan escaped Sarah's mouth, her body tensed like a bow. She held onto the counter with her hands.
When Petter pulled back, there was a wild satisfaction in his eyes. A slight redness had appeared on Sarah's neck. "You can go now," said Petter in a whisper. "But throughout that meeting, you won't be able to forget that feeling on your neck and my scent."
Sarah brought her hand to her neck, her eyes wide with astonishment and desire. She couldn't speak for a few seconds. Then, trying to compose herself, she grabbed her bag. Pushing Petter, she passed by him, but stopped when she reached the door.
She turned around. In that slate-grey skirt and ivory blouse, with her ragged breath and flushed cheeks, she looked magnificent. She narrowed her eyes. "This evening..." she said, her voice threatening yet equally inviting. "When I come home this evening, you will account for that mark on my neck, young man. And this time... you won't be able to escape."
Stomping her heels hard on the floor, she turned and walked out the door.
Petter was left alone in the kitchen, under the influence of the perfume scent hanging in the air and his mother's last look. Leaning against the counter, he let out a deep breath. "I'm looking forward to it," he muttered into the void.
When the house fell silent again, Petter retreated to his room. The dim light from the hallway filtered under the door in a thin line, reminding him of the tired daily life in the rest of the house; the distant hum of the dishwasher and the muffled sound of traffic from outside… All of these remained as a faint hum in the back of his mind.
He sat at his desk and opened the lid of his computer. That momentary mechanical moan of the fans and the familiar startup sound that followed meant that the tiny universe of this room was working again. As the screen lit up, Petter automatically surrendered himself to the same routine; news sites, analyst blogs, forums, social media feeds…
First, he searched for "Traveler." On the news sites, in the "breaking news" section, there were still calls for help, estimated route drawings, old footage, but not a single new sentence. On social media, the hashtag #Traveler had receded without a trace of the frenzy from a few days ago, falling to the lower ranks.
The resulting silence was more unnerving than even the worst news. At least with bad news, there would be certainty. Now everyone had turned into a crowd holding their breath, waiting for the next move. It was as if the world was suspended on an invisible fault line.
But the internet's agenda had already shifted. As searches for the Traveler decreased, a new sun had risen: Everyone was talking about OPG.
Forum threads:
"Is Eden Protocol real VR or something else?"
"Will we get trapped inside the Omni-Chamber?"
"The dark side OPG is hiding?"
On video sites, theorists kept analyzing Eden with hours-long videos. Some said this would be a "new age religion," others disparaged it by just calling it an "overly expensive video game."
Just then, a notification appeared in the bottom right corner of Petter's screen. With a thin, metallic ding sound.
It was a post from OPG's official ChronoFeed account:
"Welcome to the future.
In 15 minutes.
Live."
Petter's heart skipped a beat for a moment, then accelerated.
What was this? An unplanned, spontaneous live broadcast. It wasn't a pre-announced event; at least Petter didn't remember it.
He clicked on the notification immediately. The window enlarged, the browser opened a new tab, and after a few seconds of black screen, OPG's live broadcast waiting room appeared.
In the center, there was a hyper-realistic 3D model of the Omni-Chamber, slowly rotating around itself. Not studio lights, but starlight reflected on its glossy surface; thin blue lines flashed along the contours of the metallic shell, and data rings rotating around the body looked like a kind of digital halo. The background was a deep space landscape: purplish nebulas, white star clusters leaking through gaps, as if saying "you don't belong here but you are invited."
In the corner of the screen, a countdown timer with red, digital digits was ticking:
14:59... 14:58...
Every tick of the counter echoed as if accompanying the rhythm in Petter's chest.
The chat box on the right side of the screen was flowing like a waterfall. Messages were scrolling so fast that they escaped upward before a line could be fully read. People from all over the world were sending thousands of messages.
His eyes caught a few usernames:
@VirtualPioneer: THIS IS IT! IT'S STARTING! HYPE!
@CyberDreamer: PLEASE GIVE MORE INFO FOR THE FIRST 10,000 PEOPLE!
@Realist_77: Calm down, they'll probably just release an apology video.
@Chloe_Art: I hope it's not just a marketing gimmick...
@Kenji_Tanaka_Fan: 日本から応援しています! (Supporting from Japan!)
Other languages were mixing in too: Spanish, Portuguese, Russian, Arabic… The flow had turned into the only common language that didn't care about language differences, the language of hype.
Petter leaned forward in his chair. His knees bumped slightly under the desk, but he didn't even notice. He wasn't taking his eyes off the screen. His heart was beating fast with anticipation.
What could it be? A new trailer? A postponement announcement? Something about the Traveler? Or... more?
Time refused to flow. Every second stretched like a minute. The silence of the outside world contrasted completely with that feverish, noisy waiting in this digital room. Even the sounds in the house were muffled and insignificant as if coming from a distant galaxy.
When the countdown timer entered the last ten seconds, the chat box began to flow at an unreadable speed. The messages were no longer letters, just like moving colored blocks.
Ten... nine... eight...
Petter held his breath without realizing it.
Seven... six... five...
His fingers were involuntarily tapping a rhythm on the desk. The tapping of his fingernails on the wood proceeded at the same tempo as the countdown.
Four... three... two... one...
Zero.
The screen went black. The chat went silent for a moment; only "?" emojis appeared.
After a brief silence, a futuristic sound effect like a mixture of metal and echoing chorus was heard, and the glittering OPG logo appeared on the screen. The logo slowly rotated in the 3D space void emitting light, then dissolved pixel by pixel, leaving its place to a simple but stylish studio.
In the center stood a bald man with a relaxed but confident demeanor. He wore a simple black t-shirt with a small OPG emblem on the collar. The man's shiny bald head glowed like a beacon under the studio lights; this image made him very prone to being funny, yet also radiated a strange charisma.
On the giant screen behind him, both the OPG and "Eden Protocol" logos were intertwined; as if one was a game and the other a religion, two faces of the same symbol.
The man looked at the camera with a warm smile. His voice was deep, calm, and reassuring; the voice of a professional who had received years of media training, weighing every word he spoke.
"Hello everyone," he said. "I am Marcus Thorne, Chief Experience Officer of Octanos Prime Generations. I want to start by thanking you all for the incredible interest, patience, and passion you have shown over the last few days."
Petter settled further into his chair. The man before him had the air of a "spiritual leader of the community" rather than a classic salesperson. His intonation was tuned in such a way that he sounded like both "your friend" and a "visionary leader" at the same time.
Marcus Thorne continued, clasping his hands in front of him.
"We know. You have too many questions, too many concerns, and more importantly, too much excitement. Today, I am here to answer some of these questions and share our vision for the future with you."
On the screen behind him, an image of a smartphone appeared. On the phone's screen, a minimalist interface in blue and white tones was rotating.
"First of all," said Marcus, "I am proud to announce that the Eden Protocol experience will not be limited to just the Omni-Chamber. As of today, we are releasing the 'OPG Connect' application, which you can download from all app markets."
Animations from the app's interface began to play on the screen. The design was clean and minimalist but also gave the feeling of "arrived from the future." A stylized map of Eden appeared on the main screen, with tabs like "Create Character," "Create Guild," "Discover Lore" appearing below.
"OPG Connect," said Marcus, "will be your personal gateway to Eden. You can start creating your character before the game even starts, form guilds with your friends, and access exclusive content telling the rich history and mythology of Eden. This is not just a companion app. It is part of the experience."
With a sudden reflex, Petter reached for his phone on the desk. He woke the screen, opened the app market, and searched for "OPG Connect."
The app appeared at the top row as a giant banner. The logo was identical to the one in the broadcast.
"Of course..." he grunted.
Without thinking for a single second, he pressed the "Download" button. As the loading bar filled, there was an expression mixed with both excitement and anxiety on his face. He was stepping into something, but he didn't know exactly what he was stepping into.
Marcus began to walk slowly in the studio. Cameras followed him with a soft panning motion.
"Now, I know, let's get to the main topic on everyone's mind: Omni-Chamber orders."
There was an understanding expression on his face. He frowned slightly and tilted his head; the "we understand you" pose.
"Your demand has exceeded even our wildest expectations. Millions of people wanted to be among the first to step into Eden. However, this technology is new. Its production is complex and takes time."
Abstract animations resembling factory lines appeared on the screen behind him; robot arms, glowing bodies, blue energy flows…
"Therefore, we had to make a decision."
He paused. Created a dramatic silence. The chat box was overflowing with theories and pleas:
"Please don't cancel!"
"Will there be a raffle?"
"Are you raising the price?"
"The first wave, the 'Founders Wave', will only be produced for the first 10,000 approved people."
The announcement created a wave of disappointment in the chat box. Messages like "Only 10k?", "This is unfair!", "I'm stuck on the waiting list…" began to rain down.
Marcus continued without dropping the empathy mask on his face:
"However, a price announcement has been made for these 10,000 people. And we know that this price is high. This cost is the exchange for accessing revolutionary technology a month before anyone else, helping us lay the foundations of this new world, and being a 'Founder'."
On the screen behind him, large, white figures appeared: "$69,999"
Petter's throat went dry.
"However," Marcus said, raising his voice slightly, "OPG's mission is not to offer the experience only to an elite few. Our mission is to bring Eden to everyone."
In the background, a crowded city silhouette, faces of ordinary people, user videos from different ages and cultures appeared.
"Therefore, preparations for our mass production lines are complete. And I am thrilled to announce that the price of the first one million Omni-Chambers after the 'Founders Wave' will drop to one-fifth of today's price."
The new figure appeared on the screen: $13,999 (the company had added a tag like 14K below to round it up).
The chat box seemed frozen for a moment; there was a feeling that no one was writing. Then, an explosion occurred as if a dam had burst.
Shock, anger, joy, jealousy, relief… Every kind of emotion was reflected on the screen in text form:
"I became a Founder, now I feel like an idiot."
"Even at this price I'll have to sell a kidney but I still want it."
"This is it! They make it accessible!"
Petter's mouth was left open. Fourteen thousand dollars.
The figure was still on the border of "madness," but it had moved out of the "impossible" category into the "borderline possible" column. And this shift was exactly what changed everything.
Marcus smiled as if he had foreseen these reactions.
"Therefore, we have a piece of advice for the 10,000 people who received order confirmation: If that special status and early access that comes with being a 'Founder' is not vital for you, please delay your confirmation. Wait. In a few months, you will have the same technology at a much more affordable price. We don't want anyone to feel pressured. The choice is entirely yours."
The emerging picture was turning into an incredible public relations move. The company was escaping looking like a greedy monopoly and instead settling into the position of a guide thinking about its customer. The image of "We are not exploiting you, just offering options" was being built live in front of millions.
"The OPG Connect app," continued Marcus, changing the subject with a smooth transition, "will also be a control center for your Omni-Chamber."
On the screen behind him, the phone interface reappeared.
"You will be able to track your Chamber's statistical data, check its charging status, turn it on and off remotely. You will even be able to adjust the Chamber's internal ventilation according to your room temperature."
Stylish animations showing these functions were appearing on the screen: When a slider was swiped on the phone screen, the airflow inside the Omni-Chamber changed, light tones softened, sleep mode was activated.
"Among our future works are research on full-body haptic suits, scent synthesizing cartridges, and even dream interface technologies."
Dream interface. The words created a separate echo in Petter's mind.
"Eden Protocol," said Marcus, emphasizing his last sentences like a manifesto, "is just a beginning. We are redefining the boundaries of human potential."
After a short thank you, the glittering OPG logo reappeared on the screen, and the broadcast ended with a fade-out.
Petter stared at the screen for a while. The video had closed, the countdown had disappeared, replaced by the standard ChronoFeed interface. But that space background, the rotating Omni-Chamber model, and Marcus's voice were still wandering in his mind.
He felt as if boiling water had been poured over his head. To the side, the app he had just downloaded gave a "Installation Complete" warning on his phone. Looking at the screen, he saw the small OPG Connect icon vibrating in the background.
His brain was throbbing with the information he heard. On one hand, the opportunity to attain the technology of his dreams, on the other, the incredible financial and moral turmoil this opportunity brought...
Should he have delayed his decision? Or should he have paid that incredible money to be a part of history?
What was at stake wasn't an ordinary game purchase; it was actually like buying a future. Petter didn't know which future to choose.
His mind was like a hurricane; a chaotic storm consisting of numbers, promises, and impossible choices kept spinning. Seventy thousand dollars to be a month early? Or fourteen thousand dollars for the same technology a few months later?
The corporate brilliance of the move was astonishing; while appearing generous, OPG had created both an ultra-exclusive club and an accessible market for later at the same time. "Founders" would be a myth; the rest would be the "delayed majority," but still inside.
Indecision gnawed at him for exactly ten seconds; a silent, internal war flared up behind his eyes. Then, a violent and sudden wave of clarity wrapped around him.
Are you an idiot, son? he thought, getting angry at himself inwardly. What is this indecision? You already placed the order for both your sister and yourself. You confirmed it.
The reality he remembered sat like a stone right in the middle of his stomach. The confirmation email was still sitting in his inbox; "Congratulations, you have been accepted into the Founders Wave."
The choice he made was for Maya. For her glittering eyes, her infinite imagination. Both of you will be explorers, not spectators, in this new age. There is no turning back.
This thought cut through the fog in his mind like a knife. The decision was made. Whatever the price paid, they would embark on this journey. Accepting this was comforting in a way; instead of turning at the intersection, he had decided to continue straight.
Under the influence of sudden enlightenment, he immediately grabbed his phone. He had to share this incredible news, this madness with someone.
He called Chloe first, but her phone was busy. She was probably in her art studio, sculpting a protest statue against this new state of the world. While listening to the busy tone of the phone, Petter also thought to himself:
While I step into Eden, she will probably write a manifesto on it.
Then he called Liam. It rang twice before he picked up. The screen showed the blurry background of Liam's messy room, and in the center, his face glowing with excitement, taking up most of the space. T-shirts piled up on the bed, a half-drunk can of energy drink on the desk behind him, a neon poster hanging crookedly on the wall... The only clear thing the camera focused on was the crazy light in his pupils.
"Dude! Did you see it? Did you see that broadcast?!"
Liam's voice was fast and vibrating as if he had drunk three cups of espresso back-to-back and opened an energy drink to go with it. Every word collided with the next without waiting for the end of the sentence.
"Look at those guys! They're literal geniuses! They officially started a revolution and made themselves look like angels while doing it. The idea of dividing the price by five... it's unbelievable, an incredible move!"
Petter laughed involuntarily. Liam's pure, tech-addicted enthusiasm was contagious as always.
"I saw it, Liam," he said, relaxing a bit more in his chair. "I watched it breathlessly. My brain literally melted."
"Okay, let's get to the main point," Liam jumped in, leaning forward instantly. He got so close to the camera that only a pixelated nose and pair of eyes remained on the screen. "What did you do? What did you do? Tell me! You delayed the confirmation, right? That's the logical thing. When you can wait a few months and buy a nice car instead of a house down payment..."
Petter leaned back, resting his shoulders against the back of the chair. A deliberately placed mischievous smile appeared on his face.
"No," he said calmly. "I didn't delay. I confirmed."
He paused for a tiny moment.
"Two of them."
Liam's image on the screen practically froze. He remained motionless for a few seconds as if the connection had been cut. His pupils slowly dilated, his mouth opened millimeter by millimeter; the image was like a silenced scream.
Finally, he managed to speak, squeezing the words out one by one through his teeth:
"YOU. CANNOT. BE. SERIOUS."
He finished the last syllable as if gulping.
"Did you pay a hundred and forty thousand dollars?! Petter, have you lost your mind?!"
"Maybe," said Petter with a slight shrug. There was both self-mockery and a strange relief in his voice. "But think about it, Liam. Like being one of the first people to buy a personal computer. Like being one of the first to connect to the internet. We're talking about moments where history is written. I wanted to be inside that moment."
He stopped, deepened his breath.
"I wanted Maya to be inside that moment too. The money..." His hands drew a circle in the empty air. "We'll think about that later."
As he formed this sentence, the inheritance his father left appeared in his mind with all its weight. That savings, which he had declared "untouchable" by calculating for years, had suddenly changed direction. Still, somewhere inside him, there was a voice asking, "What else is it for?"
Liam shook his head from side to side. Anger, admiration, jealousy, and astonishment were reflected on his face simultaneously.
"You... you are my hero, do you know that?" he said finally, in a half-joking, half-serious tone. "While I'm here waiting for months trying to save money to buy that mass-production version, you go and become a 'Founder'."
He took a deep breath, his eyes shining.
"When you go in... God, what will you do when you connect to Eden for the first time? What will you try first?"
"I don't know," said Petter honestly. As he formed his sentence, his eyes automatically scanned the empty space in the corner of the room, as if a glittering Omni-Chamber was already there. "I'll probably just stop and look around first. Try to understand what that feeling they call 'realer than reality' is like. Maybe I'll just touch a tree. Maybe look at the sky."
The corner of his lip curled slightly.
"And then..."
Liam's eyes sparkled. "Then?"
"Then I'll start thinking about how I can integrate the 'Nar-En' engine in there."
The man on the other end of the screen looked like he was going to explode.
"This is it!" he shouted. The voice turned into an echo that blew out the microphone and overflowed from the headphones. "You'll create your own world! Your own rules, your own stories... While ordinary mortals like us try to get roles in the ready-made worlds OPG offers, you will be your own god!"
The conversation quickly evolved into technical enthusiasm. They were no longer acting like two friends, but like two designers carrying the same fire. Words began to flow, stepping over each other.
How realistic haptic feedback could be, how muscle fibers would be simulated with micro-vibrations, which molecular modeling technique the scent generators would work with, which electrical impulses would be used to trick the sense of taste... Liam was stuck on this sensor side. Every detail fascinated him.
Petter's mind was running on other tracks. AI behavior models, how learnable NPCs (non-player characters) would be, how worlds could transform from static scenarios into dynamic simulations reacting to player psychology...
For a moment, they forgot the cosmic uneasiness created by the "Traveler," the anomaly appearing in the sky, the silent panic permeating humanity. The Eden broadcast, Marcus Thorne's charismatic presentation, and OPG's skillfully constructed "vision of the future" had turned the global focus elsewhere. The world was looking at the shiny new toy, not the approaching unknown.
Right in the middle of this heated conversation, Petter's phone screen lit up once more. Accompanied by a slight vibration, the call window appearing in the notification strip caught the corner of his eye.
The caller was "Unknown Number."
In normal times, it was a call he would reject in a single move. Advertisement, survey, ridiculous insurance offers... But today was a radically different day. Nothing was flowing normally today.
"Wait a second, Liam," he said. He put the video call on hold; the silence in the headphones expanded instantly. Then he accepted the new call.
"Hello?"
The voice coming from the phone was disturbingly clear. No room hum in the background, no slight rustle, not even the sound of breathing. Just a flawless, sterile tone.
"Good day, Mr. Petter Aksu. I am calling from Octanos Prime Generations, order and installation unit. I hope I am not disturbing you?"
Petter's throat went dry; he struggled to gather his words.
"No... no, you're not disturbing," he said, swallowing his words without realizing. OPG? Now?
"Wonderful," the other side continued. The intonation, the consistency in speech speed, the stresses... everything was as smooth as taken from a training recording. "I see that you have confirmed your order for two Omni-Chamber Founder Series. First of all, we would like to congratulate you for being among the first to step into Eden."
Following this sentence, a short hum echoed inside Petter's head. The words "One of the first to step into Eden..." overlapped with Marcus's line in the broadcast.
"Our installation team special to you is currently in your region," the voice continued. "I called to determine the most suitable day and time for the installation of the two orders you placed. Our team is available starting tomorrow. Which day would be suitable for you?"
Petter lost his sense of time for a moment.
"Tomorrow?" he asked, his voice coming out thinner than necessary. "Um... Today is Friday."
He quickly scanned the calendar in his mind.
"Can you really come tomorrow?"
"Of course, Mr. Aksu," said the voice, without changing tone even by a millimeter. "Our logistics network is designed to keep customer satisfaction at the highest level. Is tomorrow, Saturday, suitable for you? We have two options, morning and afternoon."
A small math started inside his head: Production, packaging, shipment, customs, distribution... In a normal world, there was no chance of these being handled in a single day. Still, his ears answered faster than his brain.
"Yes... yes, suitable," he said. "Saturday... afternoon could work."
"Noted. Your appointment has been created for Saturday at 14:00. Our expert installation team will be at your address at the specified time."
For a while, the sound of keyboard typing was heard, but it was unclear whether it belonged to a real keyboard or just an effect file.
"The installation is predicted to take approximately two hours per unit. The team will need a separate 220-volt grounded outlet and an area of approximately ten square meters for each unit. Do you have any other questions?"
Petter shook his head, then realizing he was talking on the phone, grasped the meaninglessness of this movement.
"No... I guess not. Thank you."
"We thank you, Mr. Aksu. See you in Eden."
The call ended silently. The phone screen returned to the home screen, the simple landscape photo on the wallpaper came before his eyes. For a while, his fingers remained motionless, hooked on the edge of the screen.
His heart was fluttering like a bird trapped in his rib cage. His breathing was short, shallow, and fast.
Tomorrow.
The word kept echoing in his mind. Tomorrow, those futuristic rooms, those metal capsules he had only seen in trailers, would stand in his own house, in his own room? Would the science fiction scene he had dreamed of since childhood land in this small, messy area next to the living room?
He returned to the video call with trembling fingers. Liam's face reappeared. His friend's expression had closed up with worry.
"Dude, are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost. Who was calling?"
Petter swallowed, his lips felt glued together.
"Liam," he said, his voice still close to a whisper. "You won't believe it."
"What won't I believe? Tell me already!"
"I didn't see the text on the screen, but the voice was clear enough." He took a deep breath. "The caller... was OPG."
Liam's eyes widened again, he pulled his head back with a start as if he had also just been called by an unknown number.
"What?! What did they say? Was there a problem?"
"No," said Petter, this time emphasizing his word a bit more decisively. "They called for installation. They are coming tomorrow."
Liam's reaction was not a momentary silence, but a burst of high-pitched laughter.
"You're kidding! Impossible!" he shouted. "It's only been a few hours since they made the announcement. While even ordinary cargo doesn't reach the other end of the world tomorrow, are they going to bring a ten-square-meter simulation room?"
"I thought so too when I first heard it," said Petter. "But they created the appointment record. A note was passed for two o'clock tomorrow."
Liam took his head between his hands, the expression on his face tense with astonishment as he looked through his fingers.
"This company... is unlike anything we know, Petter. It's like they leaked here from another dimension, from a further future. What kind of logistics is this? What kind of production network? It's like..."
His voice lowered slightly as he finished the sentence:
"It's like they are teleporting these rooms."
The new development fueled the conversation between them even more. What was being discussed was no longer just a game; physics, industry, politics, ethics, and almost metaphysics were involved. Who stood behind OPG, how this speed was possible, whether they were talking about a planet-scale company or something else...
"Tomorrow... Do you know what you'll do first tomorrow?" said Liam, after a while, his voice in a different tone this time—completely full of admiration. "Create a mirror as soon as calibration is over. Look at yourself. Turn the reality filter all the way up. Then create your favorite food and eat it. You'll tell me how it tastes, promise. And then fly! Just fly! The to-do list is endless."
This enthusiastic narration of Liam began to slowly turn the shock circulating in Petter's veins into excitement. That invisible hand squeezing his rib cage loosened step by step. Inside, a curiosity mixed with fear was growing.
Yes, they were coming tomorrow. And tomorrow, everything would change.
They talked for a while longer; discussed possible first mission scenarios, how the user interface would feel, who else could be a "Founder." Finally, to gather his mind a little, Petter ended the call, wished Liam good night.
When he was alone in his room, the rest of the world seemed to have retreated behind a veil of fog. Global panic, speculations about the Traveler, screaming arguments on social media... All resembled the wind outside the house after the door was closed; it exists but cannot enter.
Reality would knock on his door around two in the afternoon the next day.
He returned to his computer. On the screen, the codes of the "Nar-En" project were still open; the lines were looking into his eyes like looking at an old friend. But he could no longer look at it as just a university project or a portfolio entry. Inside the window stood something completely different: potential. A seed that hadn't sprouted yet, but had already cracked the soil.
AI on visualization...
The thought echoed inside his brain. Suddenly, his mind began to overflow with ideas.
What if he could connect the Nar-En engine to Eden's AI? When he wrote just a scene as text, what if the Omni-Chamber's interpretive layer instantly transformed those lines into a photorealistic landscape? Cities changing according to the user's emotional state, a sky changing color according to the character's mood, weather events triggered by inner monologues...
Instead of fixed, pre-programmed maps, realms reborn with every breath. Singular, personalized universes for every player...
He stood up. The slight squeak of the chair echoed in the room. He walked to the whiteboard by the wall. Reached out and grabbed the marker.
The moment the tip touched the board surface, he felt as if a valve had opened for the pressure inside his head. AI modules, emotion analysis layers, scene generators, real-time light calculations, performance optimization...
He drew circles, connected those circles with arrows, schematized the data flow. Next to the nodes, he wrote temporary names like "MoodCore", "SceneBuilder", "AvatarGhost". Lines of code were flowing in his mind like a river; the hand was struggling to catch up with the speed of the mind.
He was no longer just a user setting out to play a game. The creative side was pouring all the material he had accumulated in the corners for years onto the table. This wasn't just "entering the game." He was on the verge of building a universe himself. People's fantasy of playing god was about to become a consumer product in a few years, and Petter was one of its first users.
The sense of time completely melted away.
The daylight leaking through the window slowly faded, leaving its place to the orange glow of street lamps. The room sank into a strange twilight between the screen light and the pale white bulb on the ceiling.
What snapped him out of his trance was a familiar voice coming from downstairs. It wasn't the doorbell, nor the phone. A thin and cheerful voice echoing in the stairwell:
"Big brother! I'm home!"
His sister had returned from school. The sound of the door opening and those familiar, hurried footsteps echoing in the corridor cut through all that digital noise in Petter's mind like a knife.
Petter smiled. Those futuristic dreams, complex lines of code, and technological scenarios that would change the fate of the world occupying his mind suddenly retreated to the background, faded. There was only one reality that mattered right now, and it was downstairs. As he went down the stairs, he saw Maya throw her backpack aside in the hallway and try to take off her shoes. The school uniform she wore was a bit crumpled from the hustle of the day; her pleated skirt had turned slightly, the collar of her white shirt had shifted. Her hair was messy, sticking to the sides of her face, but those hazel eyes shone with endless energy as always.
"Welcome, peanut!" said Petter, skipping the last step of the stairs.
As soon as Maya heard her brother's voice, she lifted her head, a huge smile appearing on her face. However, Petter noticed that his sister was not comfortable in the uniform. "Hold on, take a breath first," he said affectionately. "Get rid of those school clothes, go put on something comfortable. Then we'll start our adventure."
Maya shouted "Okay!" and left her bag where it was, running upstairs to her own room. A few minutes later, when she came down the stairs again, she had a completely different energy. She had taken off her school uniform and put on her comfortable, cotton pink shorts and t-shirt with a cute cat print on it. She had also hurriedly pinned her hair with a clip. Now she was literally ready for the game.
As soon as she saw her brother, she ran towards him. Petter opened his arms, bent down, and lifting that small body as he embraced her, spun a wide circle around himself. Maya's joyful laughter filled the silence of the house to the brim.
"How was school today, let's see?" asked Petter, slowly putting her down but not loosening his arms.
"It was so boring," said Maya, hugging her brother's neck tightly. "The math teacher never stopped talking! But in art class, I drew a spaceship! A huge, silver ship. And you and I were in it, we were going to space!"
Petter's heart warmed, he admired his sister's imagination and love once again. "Great idea," he said, winking. "Maybe soon we really will have a spaceship, who knows?" As he said these words, the fact that the Omni-Chamber was coming tomorrow shone in his mind as a sweet secret.
Just then, while in her brother's arms, Maya reached out with a sudden move and planted a huge, loud, and wet kiss on Petter's cheek. Then she pulled back slightly, giggling.
Petter opened his eyes wide as if surprised. "Hey! What was that now?" he said, adding fake horror to his voice. "Are you trying to eat me or something, you little monster?"
Maya nodded, laughing out loud. "Yes! Because you are so sweet!"
Petter suddenly frowned and made a growling sound. "Is that so? So you want to eat me? But there is something you forgot... I am a bigger monster!" Suddenly he wrapped his arms tighter around his sister. "Come hereeee! I am the one who's going to eat you!"
Maya screamed and tried to run away, but Petter had already caught her. He pulled his sister to himself and started planting hundreds of kisses on her cheek, neck, forehead one after another, making "Nom! Num! Nom!" sounds. Maya was squirming in his arms under the effect of tickling and love, shouting "Brother! Don't! Okay! Hahaha!"
Petter didn't stop, he lifted his sister into the air again, spinning faster this time. Then pressing her to himself again, he squeezed Maya's soft cheeks with his lips as if really biting them. They hugged each other, spun, kissed again. They had turned into a wrestle-ball full of love in the middle of the living room.
The next hour turned into complete chaos with this energy. The "don't touch the lava on the floor" game started. They threw sofa cushions on the floor and created safe islands. The carpet turned into bubbling, hot volcano lava. Petter had taken on the role of a giant lava monster, trying to catch Maya jumping on the cushions. The house echoed with Maya's excited screams and Petter's funny monster grunts. They rolled on the carpet (when they accidentally fell into the lava), had a pillow fight. In that moment, in that living room, there were neither technological revolutions, nor global threats, nor the cold reality of the outside world. There was only a pure, unfiltered, sweaty but healing love and joy shared by two siblings.
Finally, when they both fell exhausted from fatigue, they lay side by side on the carpet, panting. Their chests were rising and falling, their hearts beating fast. Maya rested her head on her brother's chest, her hair scattered on Petter's t-shirt.
"I love you, brother," she said breathlessly.
Petter put his hand on his sister's head and stroked her hair. "I love you too, my little fish."
While they were lying on the floor, the daylight outside had slowly withdrawn. The shadows inside the room had lengthened, the light entering through the window had turned from orange to purple, and from there to a dark navy blue. It had gotten quite dark, that first intense darkness after sunset had started to settle inside the house. Only the faint light of street lamps leaked through the curtains.
When Petter sent his sister to her room to do her homework, the house was now completely wrapped in the silence of the evening. He went to the kitchen and turned on the lights. Just as he was thinking of taking ingredients out of the fridge and preparing something practical, the vibration of the phone in his pocket broke the silence of the kitchen.
The caller was his mother.
"Sweetheart," said Sarah's voice. There were no office sounds in the background, just a deep silence and his mother's tired breath. "I'm going to be late this evening."
Petter paused. "Is there a problem, mom?"
"No, no," said Sarah, her voice trying to reassure. "Just the board meeting dragged on much longer than I anticipated. And afterwards, there are a lot of accumulated files I need to check. While I'm here, I want to personally perform those wide-scan security checks on the company systems that I haven't done for a long time. Just so I can have peace of mind, to make sure everything is flawless. You guys make yourselves sandwiches or something, okay? Don't wait for me."
"Okay, mom," said Petter, understandingly. "You do your work. Don't worry about us, we'll handle it. Be careful."
"You too," said Sarah, her voice softening. "I love you."
"We love you too."
When he hung up the phone, Petter paused for a moment in the middle of the kitchen with the phone in his hand. The light of the screen hit his face. His mother would be late. Tonight, they would be alone with Maya in this big house. The darkness outside had thoroughly set in. And tomorrow... Tomorrow that black truck and the installation team would come. Life was changing at an incredible speed they couldn't control, and they were waiting right in the center of this change, holding on to each other.
Leaving the phone on the counter, Petter turned into a practical chef in the kitchen as if wanting to disperse the silence settling inside the house. He spread cream cheese on the fresh bread he took out of the cupboard, then prepared two-story, appetizing sandwiches with thinly sliced smoked turkey, lettuce, and tomatoes. He added a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice for each.
"Maya! Food is ready, peanut!"
With his call, running footsteps were heard coming down the stairs. When they settled opposite each other at the kitchen table, an excitement-laden silence that only siblings could understand prevailed between them. It was Maya, her mouth full of sandwich, who broke the silence.
"Brother... Is it coming tomorrow?"
Petter nodded, smiling. "Yes, my little fish. Tomorrow."
The little girl's eyes shone with the enthusiasm of a child about to receive the most wonderful gift imaginable. "So... so what will we do first? Will we be able to see a dragon? Or can we fly? Can we build a castle on the clouds?" Questions poured one after another like waters cascading from the spring of an innocent imagination.
Taking a big bite of his sandwich, Petter said, "We can do all of them," fueling his sister's dreams. "Maybe we won't see a dragon at first, but we can design our own dragon. Maybe we can't fly immediately, but we can build a flying machine. The world we enter will be shaped by our imagination, understand? We will draw the boundaries."
Loving the idea, Maya jumped in excitedly. "So... can I make a pink river?"
"If you want, you can even make mountains of candy."
The ordinary dinner had turned into a headquarters meeting where the approaching first adventures were planned. The two siblings were whispering their dreams to each other on the eve of a new reality.
After dinner, having fed herself and consumed her last energy, Petter tucked his sister into bed, planted a kiss on her forehead, and retreated to his room. His excitement was so intense that sleep was impossible. He sat at his computer and dived into the depths of the internet. News sites, social media platforms, everywhere was buzzing with OPG's latest move.
TechPulse News: "OPG's Price Strategy, Undecided Whether Genius or Mad, Turned Markets Upside Down!"
On ChronoFeed, the hashtag #FounderOrFool became a trend, people were divided in two.
@CyberDreamer: "I DOUBT THE MINDS OF THOSE GIVING 70K DOLLARS! A LITTLE PATIENCE!"
@VirtualPioneer: "MAKING HISTORY HAS A PRICE. SOME PAY IT, OTHERS WATCH FROM THE SIDELINES. #FounderAndProud"
He smiled slightly as he read the comments. He felt like neither a founder nor a fool; he was just an older brother who wanted the best for his sister. In technical forums, heated discussions were revolving around the allegedly leaked patent drawings of the Omni-Chamber, the working principles of haptic sensors, and neural interface potential. Every line he read fueled the fire inside him even more. What was in front of him wasn't just a screen; it was a machine that would talk to the brain itself.