Morning in Lagos brought a heat that didn't forgive. Sunlight bounced off painted walls, tin roofs, and puddles from last night's rain. Birds argued from the trees outside, but inside our flat, silence was heavy—broken only by the soft hum of printers and devices my father had already fired up.
I hadn't slept. Not really. My mind kept replaying last night—the text on the screen, the patterns, the words that made my pulse quicken. My sisters had been mischievously awake earlier, whispering and giggling, but now even their footsteps seemed quiet, almost cautious. I wondered if they felt the subtle tension in the house, or if it was only me.
Then the first alert appeared on my laptop.
REAL-TIME OBSERVATION: HUMAN INTERACTIONS BEGIN
I froze, heart pounding. My father adjusted a print layout, precise hands moving with practiced ease. He noticed me staring, raising an eyebrow, but said nothing. My mother was in the kitchen, humming while preparing breakfast for my sisters. Everything seemed ordinary. But in my mind, the world was already off balance.
SUBJECT: ENOCH
STATE: COMPROMISED — ATTENTION DIVERTED
I closed the laptop, taking a deep breath. Anger rose at the intrusion, but so did a curious, uneasy thrill. The Protocol wasn't just a system; it was watching, learning, testing. And somehow, it had chosen me.
Breakfast was awkward. My mother asked questions about school, deadlines, my workload. My answers were clipped. My father said almost nothing, only observing. My sisters laughed at minor mishaps, unaware of the tension. I envied their innocence.
Outside, Lagos felt subtly changed. A delivery drone hesitated mid-flight, a holographic billboard flickered for a second, a taxi driver paused where he usually accelerated. Subtle shifts, almost imperceptible—but my mind registered them instantly.
OBSERVATION: ENVIRONMENTAL ANOMALIES INCREASING
I pulled my phone from my pocket, scrolling messages from relatives abroad. They asked about school, plans, life. Nothing about anomalies. Nothing about the Protocol. I felt isolated, responsible, and strangely alive.
My laptop buzzed again.
YOU ARE READY TO INTERACT WITH THE PROTOCOL — DO NOT RESIST
I paused, weighing fear, curiosity, and responsibility. Lagos roared around me, people walking, cars honking, life moving normally. Yet I knew: nothing would ever feel normal again.
I had a choice to make—run, hide, or confront the unknown.
Before I could act, my laptop pinged again.
FIRST TEST INITIATED. HUMANITY'S BALANCE IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY
I looked back at my family: my father adjusting ink and metal, my mother preparing breakfast, my sisters laughing. The Protocol had chosen me to bridge humanity and something beyond. And somehow, I knew, the first challenge wouldn't happen in a lab or a distant city.
It would start here, in Lagos, in my home, and in the choices I was about to make.