The message stayed on Ethan's screen.
No typing indicator.
No follow-up.
Just that single line—nothing is free—hanging there like a dare.
He waited thirty seconds.
Then a minute.
Nothing.
The system, however, was no longer silent.
[External Entity Interaction Logged]
Classification: Peer-Level User
Risk Tier: Undetermined
"So you do let us talk," Ethan said quietly.
The response came slower this time, as if the system were choosing its words.
[Communication between eligible users is permitted.]
[Collaboration increases efficiency.]
[Efficiency increases cost accuracy.]
Ethan exhaled through his nose. Of course it did.
He scrolled back to the curve—the rising slope that represented his decisions. A small marker had appeared near the most recent point.
A label.
Current Position:
Pre-Threshold
Pre.
That meant there was a post.
His phone buzzed again.
You're close, aren't you?
Ethan hesitated, then typed.
Close to what?
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
The point where the system stops reacting to you…
…and starts planning around you.
That wasn't possible.
Was it?
Ethan's gaze snapped back to the interface.
Another panel slid open, uninvited.
[Notice]
Behavioral consistency detected.
Predictive modeling enabled.
His chest tightened.
"So this is the threshold," he said.
Not power.
Not control.
Visibility.
The system didn't deny it.
Outside, the city hummed—traffic, neon, people living ordinary lives without knowing how close they were to becoming variables in someone else's equation.
Ethan typed one last message.
What happens after the threshold?
The reply took longer this time.
Long enough that he thought maybe the other person had vanished.
Then it came.
After?
You stop being a user.
Ethan locked the phone and leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
Everything up to now had been calibration.
Everything after this would be commitment.
The curve on the screen ticked upward by a fraction.
Not because he acted.
But because he understood.