aOS v.2.26

As the minutes slipped away, Alex's thoughts continued to race, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to his current situation—a nagging sense of something just out of reach.

His mind drifted, and without realizing it, he leaned back in his chair, his eyes fluttering shut. The office around him became a blur, and soon, he was sinking deeper into his thoughts.

—--

Alex began dreaming subtly, the edges of reality blurring and softening. The dream took him in an instant, pulling him into an unfamiliar, foggy landscape. The air was thick, and everything around him felt like a distorted version of reality. The usual sharpness of his senses was dulled here, as though the laws of physics themselves didn't fully apply.

Suddenly, a flicker of light caught his attention—his digital screen, shimmering in the distance like a beacon in the fog. He walked toward it instinctively, even though he knew it couldn't be real. It was his aPhone, but it wasn't just the screen. It was as if the whole device was alive, humming with energy.

Before he could reach it, a figure emerged from the mist. A younger version of himself—leaner, unrefined, but unmistakably Alex. The younger version was staring intently at the digital screen, as if he were waiting for something.

"You've been ignoring it," the younger Alex said, his voice calm, but edged with something unspoken, a warning. "You've been ignoring the signs, haven't you?"

Alex's heart skipped a beat. "What are you talking about? The signs? What signs?"

The younger version looked at him with knowing eyes. "You've been getting warnings all along. I've been sending them."

Alex's brows furrowed. "Sending them? Through my aPhone?" He couldn't fathom what his younger self meant.

The younger Alex nodded slowly, and suddenly, the digital screen between them flickered to life. It wasn't the ordinary interface of the aPhone—this was something different. The screen showed glimpses of his own life, snippets of decisions and actions. There were numbers, graphs, and faint images—distorted but strangely familiar. A pattern was emerging, but it was clouded, incomplete.

"The future is malleable," the younger Alex continued, his voice distant now, as if explaining something beyond their reach. "The law of causality is fluid. Every action, every decision you make ripples into the future. But sometimes, the consequences don't show up right away. You've seen the pattern before, haven't you? The signs on your screen—they're my warnings."

Alex's heart began to race as the realization sank in. The warnings he had felt—the chills down his spine, the unease whenever he considered the bigger picture—those weren't just his instincts. They were coming from my younger self. From before.

"I'm embedded within you," the younger version explained, his gaze unwavering. "You don't remember me, but I've always been here. The subconscious guardian, trying to steer you away from danger."

The fog around them began to swirl faster, and images began to flash on the screen—each one faster, more urgent. A crash in the stock market. The rise of ByteMark. Shadows moving in Vegas. The operation in Prague.

"You're about to make a move that will change everything," the younger Alex said, his voice low, urgent now. "But the next step you take—it could destroy you. The law of causality… it's been pulling you toward this moment. And right now, it's pulling you toward a danger you can't see yet."

The screen flashed brighter, showing Alex standing in the midst of the chaos he had seen in his mind's eye earlier. His decisions—his actions—were the trigger. But how? What was he missing?

"You need to listen," the younger Alex urged. "Your instincts will lead you, but you need to understand the rules of causality. Every action you take now—every choice—will push things forward. And you won't see the consequences until it's too late if you don't pay attention."

Alex reached out toward the screen, his fingers trembling. "But how can I stop it?" he whispered, almost to himself.

The younger version of himself didn't answer. Instead, he just pointed to the screen one last time. The images shifted again, showing him making a small, seemingly inconsequential choice—something that, if altered, could change the entire trajectory.

"The next step you take is crucial. Do it wisely. I've been watching over you—helping you in ways you don't understand. This is your warning, Alex. It's up to you whether you listen."

Suddenly, the image of the screen shattered into thousands of tiny fragments, scattering into the mist, and the fog swallowed the world around him.

Alex jerked awake with a sharp intake of breath. The office was still quiet, the low hum of his computer the only sound. His hands were cold, his mind racing. His heart pounded in his chest as the fragments of the dream lingered. Warnings. The screen. The consequences.

He stood quickly, his thoughts already moving faster than his body. Causality. Every choice… every action… It's like my younger self was trying to tell me something. Trying to make me see the danger before it's too late.

Alex glanced at his aPhone, the familiar interface staring back at him. Could it really be true? Was his younger self sending those warnings through the screen all along?

Alex's heart was racing as the implications of his dream slammed into his thoughts like a freight train. His younger self—the subconscious guardian—had been sending him warnings all along, trying to steer him clear of the dangers ahead. Every instinct, every chilling moment of unease he'd felt was no accident. He wasn't just paranoid or overthinking; his own mind, his younger self, was actively trying to protect him.

Eyes wide with realization, Alex grabbed his AeroPhone with trembling hands and quickly dialed Kofi.

"Kofi!" he hissed under his breath, glancing nervously around his cubicle. "I know who's been sending the warnings! It's my younger self—he's the one doing it. He's been watching me, trying to guide me all along. I can't believe I didn't see it sooner!"

Before Kofi could respond, Alex heard a sharp, urgent sound in his earpiece. "Hey, lower your voice," Kofi's voice snapped, sounding irritated but also concerned. "We don't need anyone hearing you ramble about your existential crisis in the middle of the office. Let's go somewhere else."

Alex felt a momentary flush of shame, but the urgency of the situation pushed him forward. He bolted upright from his chair, his heart still thudding wildly in his chest. Without thinking, he turned toward the door, and before he knew it, he was running again. He had to get to a place where he could talk to Kofi without being overheard.

As Alex dashed out of the office, his sneakers pounding on the floor, he couldn't help but notice the shocked looks of his coworkers. Their eyes followed him as if he were some kind of wild anomaly. Whispers spread through the office like wildfire.

"Why does he always run?" someone muttered.

"Maybe geniuses are just eccentric like that," another voice chimed in, followed by a nervous chuckle.

Alex's cheeks burned with embarrassment, but he ignored it. I don't have time for this. He had to talk to Kofi and figure out what to do next. The weight of the warnings and the decisions ahead felt heavier than ever, and he needed clarity.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to slow down and gather his thoughts, but the adrenaline kept him moving faster than he would have liked. He finally reached the stairwell and paused just outside, catching his breath.

"Alright, Kofi. I'm at the rooftop. I'm not sure where to go from here. My younger self, he's been sending the warnings, guiding me all this time. What does it mean?" Alex's voice was lower now, a mixture of confusion and awe.