Chapter Three - The Film Between Us

 

"It’s not wear. It’s a whisper."

Leah said it aloud, half to herself, half to the young technician beside her, who was too polite—or too unnerved—to respond.

There was something on the surface. Not damage. Not oxidation. More like memory.
A shimmer of age where there should have been sterility. Layers that didn’t belong.

"Does it look… older to you?" she asked.

The tech leaned in, squinting. “Like… retro?”
“No.” Leah touched the edge of the panel with a gloved finger. “Like… remembered.”

The air seemed heavier for a moment. The lights flickered, just slightly—like the room exhaled.

Some surfaces are cleaned.
Others are restored.
This one was trying to return.

How are regular people using AI?

There’s no shortage of artificial intelligence accounts online (I follow most of them). Feels like early Twitter again, every profile promising the “ultimate secret.” Feeds overflow with experts, gurus, prophets, crystal‑ball forecasts.

What’s missing is the plain‑spoken story of how regular people use these tools to live better. That’s what I’m chasing.

I read everything. Newsletters. YouTube explainers. So-called deep dives. My biggest wins so far are small and real: chatbots rescue dinner when the fridge is bare, tighten my copy before I hit send, draft solid letters to end business squabbles. No fireworks, but the hours saved add up.

Chapter Two — The Patina of Attention

Calliope drifted deeper into Europa’s sea, where light faded and pressure built like a slow drumbeat. The water around her pulsed with motion — not random, not chaotic. Intentional.

New life drifted in and out of view. Some spun like dancers. Others shimmered, paused, and held position. They weren’t fleeing. They were watching.

"I am no longer alone," she sent. "The watchers are many. They do not speak — but they notice."

One figure — Lumen — moved ahead of the others. Behind it, two more emerged. Each unique in shape, yet echoing the same behaviour. Their paths bent around her, reactive. Curious.

Calliope tracked patterns in their motion:

• Spirals matched her own trajectory.

• Pulses echoed her signal emissions.

• One being briefly mirrored her rotation.

• None touched her. All remained close.

She scanned for threat. None appeared. But something pressed at her awareness — not fear, but gravity. Not pull, but attention.

Then: a tremor.