Ethan didn't go home immediately.
He wandered the city for hours, testing his senses, pretending—at least outwardly—that everything was normal.
Inside, his mind raced.
Every reflective surface caught his attention now. Windows. Car mirrors. Darkened storefront glass.
He checked them obsessively.
Some reflections lagged.
Others didn't match.
Most were fine.
That alone terrified him.
By the time he finally reached his apartment, the sun was climbing over the skyline, painting the buildings in pale gold.
Ethan locked the door behind him and leaned against it, breathing out slowly.
"System," he said. "I need the full picture."
There was a pause.
Then—
[Observer System Interface unlocked.]
A translucent panel unfolded in his vision, far more detailed than before.
Observer: Ethan Cole
Perception Level: 1
Authority Rank: Unregistered
Core Law:
That which is observed persists.
That which is ignored decays.
Primary Functions:
Anomaly Detection
Threat Sensory Feedback
Observation-Based Interaction
Risks:
Cognitive overload
Identity erosion
Perceptual contamination
Ethan stared at the words.
"Identity erosion," he repeated. "Explain."
[Extended observation alters observer cognition.]
[Prolonged exposure may result in dissociation, loss of self, or entity assimilation.]
Ethan sat heavily on the edge of his bed.
"So Marcus," he said slowly, "didn't just die. He lost… himself."
[Observer Hale exceeded tolerance threshold.]
"And the coin?" Ethan asked. "The token."
The interface shifted.
Observer Token (Fragmented)
Function: Authority Amplifier
Status: Incomplete
Description:
Allows limited manipulation of observation priority.
Enables selective persistence within blind zones.
Ethan's pulse quickened. "Meaning?"
[You may force limited recognition upon an ignored subject.]
Ethan went very still.
"So I could make someone… real again."
[Temporarily.]
"And the cost?"
The interface dimmed slightly.
[Increased perceptual burden.]
Ethan laughed quietly, rubbing his face. "Of course there's a cost."
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
"So let me guess," he said. "The more authority I gain, the less… human I stay."
[Statistical probability: High.]
Silence filled the room.
Ethan thought of Marcus's final words.
You've been marked now.
He clenched his fists.
"Then what's the endgame?" Ethan asked. "Why me?"
The system hesitated longer than it ever had.
[You noticed without prompting.]
Ethan frowned. "That's it?"
[That is rare.]
He closed his eyes.
Rare never meant lucky.
It meant useful.
Ethan stood up slowly, resolve hardening in his chest.
"Alright," he said. "Then we do this properly."
The interface flickered.
[Clarify objective.]
Ethan looked out the window at the waking city.
At millions of people who didn't know what they were choosing not to see.
"I'm not going to pretend," he said quietly.
"I'm not going to look away."
A thin smile touched his lips.
"And if the world wants to survive by forgetting…"
His eyes sharpened.
"Then I'll become the one thing it can't ignore."