The alarm buzzed at 5:01 a.m., loud and unforgiving.
Victor groaned, rolled over, and slammed the off button with the kind of frustration that only cold dorm rooms in February could trigger. He blinked groggily at the ceiling, still trying to process where he was.
This wasn't Lagos. This wasn't the family apartment where every morning started with the call to prayer from a nearby mosque and the smell of boiling yam. This was America. Connecticut, to be precise. And not just any school — one of the most prestigious universities in the country.
The silence was different here. It wasn't peaceful. It was thick, sterile. Lonely.
He sat up slowly, rubbing his face, trying to will the sleep out of his eyes. Then it happened.
"Initiating Development Protocol: Day 1. Welcome, Victor."
Victor froze. His heart slammed against his ribs.
"Who said that?" he whispered. "Hello?"
"Do not panic. I am your system."
His eyes darted around the room. Empty. His roommate, Ethan, was out for the weekend. Nobody else was there.
"You what? What kind of juju is this?"
"Not juju. Optimization interface. Purpose: Total Personal Development. Categories include: Physical Conditioning. Academic Excellence. Emotional Intelligence. Financial Growth. Social Mastery. Ethical Impact."
Victor stood up. "Omo, I don craze."
He stumbled toward the mirror. Maybe he was hallucinating. Maybe this was jet lag mixed with cultural shock and leftover egusi soup.
"You are not crazy. This is real. Your subconscious has unlocked access to the Victor Optimization Protocol — VOP."
He blinked. "You're in my mind?"
"Affirmative. Guidance will be offered daily. Execution is your responsibility."
Victor dropped back onto his bed, eyes wide.
Of course, he'd read about systems in those sci-fi novels his cousin swore by. But those were stories. Comics. Netflix shows. This? This was next-level.
And yet... there was a strange calm that followed. A knowing. Like this was meant to happen.
He took a breath. "Okay, System. What now?"
"Today's Focus: Initiate Morning Routine. Light workout recommended. 15 minutes. Goal: Discipline calibration."
He laughed despite himself. "So you're my gym trainer now?"
"Also tutor. And advisor. And inner voice. Begin with 20 pushups."
Victor eyed the cold floor, then slowly lowered himself down. The first 10 were fine. The next five were shaky. The last five? A war.
By the time he collapsed back onto the bed, sweating and panting, the System spoke again.
"Well done. Dopamine levels rising. Morning cortisol stabilized. Now: Hydrate."
He grabbed his water bottle and took a long gulp, wondering if he was really about to let a voice in his head tell him how to live.
The answer, weirdly, was yes.
Because for the first time since stepping off that plane, he didn't feel lost.
---
Victor's classes started at 8:00 a.m., but he was already dressed and heading to the lecture hall by 7:20. A navy hoodie, slim jeans, clean sneakers. He threw on his headphones and played a beat he'd been working on since high school. His own voice came through — raw, unpolished, but honest.
Back home, he was the neighborhood freestyle champ. They called him "Vee Blaze." Here? He was just another foreign student trying not to drown in student debt, weather, and weird food.
He stepped into the lecture hall and took a seat near the back. The professor was already setting up slides about constitutional law.
As students filled in, Victor noticed a girl near the front — thick curls, gold hoop earrings, and confidence like armor. She was beautiful in a way that was real, not curated. Her laughter cut through the dull room like music.
She caught him staring.
He quickly looked away.
"Notice: Heart rate spike. Mild pupil dilation. Social curiosity detected."
Victor sighed. "Don't start."
"Would you like assistance engaging with potential connection?"
"I said don't start!"
---
After class, he wandered toward the dining hall, hunger catching up with him. His phone buzzed — a WhatsApp message from his mom back home.
> Good morning my son. I know it is still night there. Just praying for you. Don't forget your purpose.
He smiled. That was her version of "Good luck."
He replied quickly: Love you, Mama. I'm doing well.
The System cut in:
"Daily Motivation Logged. Emotional Anchor Detected. This connection will fuel resilience."
Victor chuckled. "You're weirdly sentimental."
"Only efficient."
---
That night, after finishing his readings, Victor pulled out his notebook. He scribbled bars into the margins of his class notes. His brain raced with ideas: a song about immigration. A line about culture shock. A hook about feeling invisible in a crowd.
The System interrupted softly:
"Note: Creativity levels optimal post-study. Encouragement: Continue."
Victor looked around the room, alone but… not lonely.
He picked up his phone and searched for student groups. Music collectives. Open mic nights. Anything.
He was done being silent.
He came here to study Law, sure. But he also came to build something bigger.
Himself.