Alex's fingers moved across the keyboard like he was possessed.
Words poured out of him faster than he'd ever written anything before. His enhanced mind kept the entire article structure organized while simultaneously crafting each sentence.
The title formed first: "The Smartphone Revolution: Why Touchscreens Will Replace Everything."
Then the introduction. He made it compelling. Started with a hook about how people were already living on their phones but didn't realize how much more was coming.
"Within five years, your phone will be your camera, your music player, your GPS, your gaming console, your web browser, and your connection to everyone you know. The keyboard will disappear. The touchscreen will reign supreme."
He moved into the technical section. Described capacitive touchscreen technology in detail.
Explained why it was superior to resistive screens. Broke down the advantages in ways that even non-technical readers would understand.
Then came the ecosystem argument. This was the part his future knowledge made devastatingly accurate.
"The real revolution isn't the hardware. It's the software ecosystem that will emerge. Imagine a marketplace where anyone can build applications. Where developers worldwide can create tools for your phone and sell them directly to users. This 'app store' model will generate billions in revenue and spawn entirely new industries."
Alex described social media integration. How phones would become the primary way people accessed Facebook, Twitter, and platforms that didn't even exist yet. How mobile internet would need to evolve to support constant connectivity.
He detailed the death of physical media. How streaming services would replace music downloads. How cloud storage would replace local files.
Three hours passed. Alex barely noticed.
The article grew to five thousand words. It was comprehensive. Detailed. Specific enough to be useful but vague enough about exact companies that he couldn't be accused of insider trading.
At 6 AM, he read through it one final time. His enhanced memory caught every typo, every awkward phrase, every place where the logic could be tightened.
He made the corrections.
Then he opened his email and addressed it to TechCrunch's editorial submission address.
The subject line read: "Submission: The Smartphone Revolution - Why Touchscreens Will Replace Everything."
The email body was short. Professional.
"Dear TechCrunch Editorial Team,
My name is Alex Carter. I'm a technology analyst and futurist. Attached is a 5,000-word article detailing the coming smartphone revolution and why touchscreen technology will fundamentally reshape computing."
"This isn't speculation. The pieces are already in place. I've mapped out exactly how and why this transition will occur over the next five years."
"I believe this article will be highly valuable to your readers. I'm available for revisions or follow-up pieces.
Best regards,
Alex Carter"
He attached the document. Stared at the send button.
'This is it. This is the moment that determines whether I can actually pull this off.'
Alex clicked send.
The email disappeared into the void.
He closed his laptop and fell onto his bed. Exhaustion hit him all at once. His enhanced mind had been running at full capacity for nearly seven hours straight.
Sleep claimed him in seconds.
---
The buzzing of his phone woke him. Alex jerked awake, disoriented. Sunlight streamed through his grimy window.
He grabbed his phone. 12:17 PM.
He'd been asleep for six hours.
The phone buzzed again. Email notification.
From: TechCrunch Editorial
Subject: Re: Submission: The Smartphone Revolution
Alex's heart jumped into his throat. He opened the email with shaking hands.
"Mr. Carter,
I've read your submission. I have to ask - who are you? This is one of the most comprehensive analyses of mobile computing trends I've read in years.
Your predictions about app ecosystems and touchscreen dominance are bold but convincingly argued.
We want to publish this immediately. Our standard rate for freelance submissions of this length is $1,500. Are you available for a call this afternoon to discuss details?
Best,
Michael Arrington
Editor, TechCrunch"
Alex read the email three times to make sure it was real.
Fifteen hundred dollars.
For one article.
Written in three hours.
'My enhanced mind just earned more in one night than I'd make in two weeks at the restaurant.'
But Alex's brain was already calculating. Already optimizing.
Fifteen hundred was their standard rate. Which meant it was negotiable. And if they wanted to publish "immediately," that meant they saw serious value in the content.
He could push for more.
He started typing a response.
"Mr. Arrington,
Thank you for the rapid response. I'm glad you found the analysis valuable.
I'm available for a call anytime today. However, given the comprehensive nature of the piece and its timeliness, I'd like to propose $2,000 for this article, plus an ongoing monthly column contract where I provide similar forward-looking technology analysis.
My rate for the monthly column would be $800 per piece, minimum 2,000 words, submitted at the beginning of each month.
I have significant additional insights into emerging technology trends that I believe your readers would find valuable.
Let me know if these terms work for you.
Best,
Alex Carter"
He read it over once. It was professional. Confident. Not desperate.
Perfect.
He hit send before he could second-guess himself.
The response came back in twenty minutes.
"Alex, You drive a hard bargain. But I like the confidence. $2,000 for the current piece, $800 per month for ongoing columns. We'll need first submission by the 1st of next month.
Deal?
Michael"
Alex let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.
"Deal," he typed back.
Three emails later, the contract details were hammered out. TechCrunch would wire the $2,000 within five business days.
The article would publish tomorrow morning. His first monthly column was due in three weeks.
Alex stood up from his bed and looked around his apartment. At the water-stained ceiling. At the empty ramen cups. At the eviction notice that was still taped to his door.
Everything was about to change.
He grabbed his jacket and walked out. The restaurant where he worked—where he used to work—was fifteen minutes away.
Linda was behind the counter when he walked in. Her expression soured immediately.
"Carter. You've got some nerve showing up here."
"I came to quit," Alex said simply.
Linda's eyebrows shot up. "Quit? You already didn't show up for two shifts. You're fired."
"Then consider this my formal resignation." Alex pulled the apron he'd forgotten to return from his jacket. Dropped it on the counter.
Linda stared at him.
"You think you can just walk away? Good luck finding another job with no reference from me."
Alex smiled. It wasn't a nice smile.
"I don't need a reference."
He turned toward the door.
Linda's voice stopped him. "You'll be back, Carter. Whatever scheme you're running, it'll fall through. They always do. You'll be back here begging for your job within a month."
Alex looked over his shoulder, "No," he said quietly. "I won't."
He walked out into the afternoon sun. His phone buzzed.
Bank notification: Wire transfer received.
$2,000.00
Alex Carter had officially monetized his enhanced intelligence.
And this was just the beginning.
Indeed, you can support me if you can on Patreon at marvelstark.