Eli Nwoko woke up to silence.
Not the normal kind—the digital kind. No pings. No morning greetings from his SmartMirror. No cheery "Good morning, Eli! Your FameScore is stable at 4.8!"
Just… nothing.
He blinked. Rubbed his eyes. Maybe the Wi-Fi was down again. But when he turned toward the mirror, the usual blue glow wasn't there. The screen stayed gray, static fuzzing across it like a dying channel.
> **"Error: User Not Found."**
He stared at the text for a long second.
"Wait—what?"
He waved at the mirror. The motion sensors didn't respond. No facial ID. No digital overlay. Just his own confused face staring back at him—brown skin, messy curls, one eye still half-closed from sleep.
"Come on," he muttered, tapping the glass. "Log in, you stupid thing."
No response.
He tried his wristband next. It was supposed to sync with his fame metrics in real time. Every breath, every blink, every view mattered. Your **FameScore** was your life—your social status, your credit, your everything.
But when he tapped the display, the watch flickered once and died.
He restarted it. Nothing.
It wasn't until he checked his **FameFeed** that panic really set in. His posts—gone. His likes—zero. His account—blank. It was like someone had reached into the internet and *deleted him.*
> **"No profile data available."**
He laughed nervously. "Okay, cool glitch. Hilarious."
But the laughter didn't last long.
---
At breakfast, his mom barely looked up from her workpad. "You're up late. You need to post something before school."
"Can't," Eli said. "Something's wrong with my account."
She frowned. "Did you forget to renew your Data Plan?"
"No, I—just look." He showed her the blank screen.
Her brow furrowed. She tried scanning his wristband with her glasses. A sharp beep. Then—nothing. Even *her* AR couldn't recognize him.
Her expression changed slowly—from irritation to something closer to fear.
"That's… odd," she whispered. "The system always detects biometrics."
"Maybe it's down?" he offered.
She shook her head. "The Algorithm doesn't go down."
---
By the time he reached school, the feeling had turned into a quiet dread.
Students filled the courtyard, phones floating in their AR fields, streaming, snapping, posting. Every laugh came with a click. Every conversation was a performance.
Eli tried to blend in. But when he walked through the gate, the scanner blinked red.
> **ACCESS DENIED. USER NOT REGISTERED.**
"What the—"
The security bot extended its arm. "Please verify identity."
He pressed his thumb to the pad. The pad blinked twice, then froze.
> **Identity Unknown.**
Kids started staring. Someone snickered.
"Yo, did the gate just reject him?"
"Bro got unverified!"
Eli's face burned. He tried again, harder this time. Nothing. The guard bot sighed (as much as a machine could) and let him through manually.
Inside, whispers followed him down the hall.
---
His friend Zane spotted him by the lockers. "Hey man, where've you been? You didn't post your morning selfie. I thought you got grounded."
"Something's wrong," Eli said. "I think the system can't see me."
Zane laughed. "What, like invisible?"
"No, like—digitally invisible. Look."
He pulled up his profile. Blank. Even his messages had disappeared.
Zane frowned. "Weird. Maybe the network flagged you?"
"For what? I barely post cat memes."
Before Zane could answer, a notification popped in his AR. "Sorry bro," he muttered, scrolling fast. "Gotta stream the homeroom challenge. Teacher said extra credit for engagement."
"Yeah," Eli said softly. "Go get your points."
Zane jogged off, camera already facing him.
---
In homeroom, attendance was automated. The holo-projector lit up everyone's FameScore like a leaderboard:
> Nova Reyes — 9.7
> Kian Bello — 8.9
> Zara Cole — 8.2
> …
Then silence.
The screen flickered. "Eli Nwoko — error."
The class giggled.
Ms. Duru frowned. "Eli, your system tag isn't syncing."
"I know," he said quietly.
"Please report to the guidance office after class."
As he sat down, Nova—fame queen of the school, queen of literally everything—turned slightly, phone hovering near her shoulder. Her holographic hair sparkled in camera-light.
She mouthed, *What's wrong with you?*
He shrugged. "Guess the Algorithm doesn't like me."
Her brow arched. "Then you don't exist."
---
The guidance counselor's office smelled like lemon sanitizer and anxiety.
"Sit," said Mr. Adisa, tapping his tablet. "You're the third student this year with score issues. The other two… transferred."
"Transferred where?" Eli asked.
Adisa's gaze flickered. "You don't want to know."
"I just need my account fixed."
The counselor leaned forward. "Eli, tell me—has anyone contacted you from outside the system?"
"What does that even mean?"
"Paper letters. Unscannable calls. Anything off-grid."
Eli blinked. "No."
Adisa studied him, face unreadable. Then he whispered, "If the Algorithm can't see you, stay quiet. Don't draw attention."
"Why?"
"Because the last boy who went invisible—never came back."
---
Eli left the office shaken. The hallway lights flickered. Every student's phone shimmered with updates, likes, comments—tiny storms of attention.
His screen, still empty.
As he walked past a reflective wall, his reflection shimmered for a second—static buzzing through his outline—then cleared.
For a heartbeat, it wasn't his face staring back. It was a blank void.
He stumbled backward, gasping.
Then the intercom crackled to life:
> "Attention, students. Please avoid all contact with unregistered users until further notice."
Every head turned toward him.
Phones raised. Cameras clicked.
But when they checked their feeds, the footage… was gone.
---
Eli looked around at their confused faces, his pulse hammering.
For the first time, he realized something impossible was happening—
It wasn't just that the Algorithm couldn't see him.
It was that the world *wasn't allowed* to.