You Stabilize Every Day

The analytics display flickered to life, bathing Lena’s studio in a soft, clinical glow. Her gaze swept across the analytics screen she paid a subscription for, scanning the metrics she already knew would sting.

Her numbers were steady. Too steady.

But what caught her eye wasn’t her own plateau—it was Maya’s sharp, jagged climb.

Maya, with her spontaneous outdoor streams, her raw charm, her damn authenticity. One moment she’d be trekking through neon-drenched urban ruins, chatting with her fans like old friends, the next she’d be weaving through an overgrown park, pointing out relics of Earth’s ecosystems.

One scrolled by: “Maya Interactive Forest Cleanup MEGASTREAM!!”

Her numbers weren’t just strong—they were exploding. The kind of growth Lena hadn’t seen in years.

“Outdoor streams,” Lena muttered bitterly, dragging a hand through her hair. “Of course. Transhumans eat that shit up. Only a small number of them can come down to Earth at any one time for tourism. Of course there's going to be demand.”

It wasn’t just the locations. 

It was the way Maya did it. The unfiltered joy in her laugh, the way she reached out to her audience like they were walking beside her, breathing the same air.

Lena couldn’t do that. Astra couldn’t do that.

Her brand was built around the Net—a sleek, neon world of precision and perfection. Taking Astra out of that would shatter the carefully curated image she’d spent decades building.

And yet…

Her eyes flicked to Raine’s metrics, a cruel reminder of what the future looked like. Raine’s numbers dwarfed hers and Maya’s combined.

Raine’s latest sensory performance had reached a staggering 10 billion views in 24 hours. A new record. Lena’s old record.

"Raine Sets New Benchmark for Transhuman Entertainment" read the headline blaring across the screen.

The numbers didn’t lie. Raine wasn’t just excelling.

Her performances didn’t just entertain; they enveloped. 

She manipulated the sensory world effortlessly, a skill Lena couldn’t even begin to replicate. Made it the greatest show any transhuman could experience. It was said that anyone Uploaded could experience her theater as if they were there themselves. Wind in their hair. Notes ringing in their ears. And most importantly, a personalized, guided look at their favorite Idol. 

Not with Lena's lagging human mind could she replicate that. She would bleed brain matter from her nose and eardrums.

Her holo-display chimed softly, pulling her attention back. A new message blinked into view—this time from Maya herself.

Lena groaned, her hands clenching into fists. Of course.

She opened the message, her breath hitching as the text unfurled.

Subject: Let’s Make It Happen

Hi Astra,

I hope this isn’t too forward, but I wanted to follow up on the idea of a collaboration. The fans are asking for it, and honestly, I think it could be something really special.

I get it if you’re busy—your schedule must be wild—but I’ve looked up to you for so long, and it would mean the world to me to work together. You’ve always been the one who showed me what it meant to fight for a connection, even in the Net.

No pressure, but I hope you’ll consider it.

Maya

Lena stared at the message.

She couldn’t do outdoor streams. She couldn’t even imagine leaving the Net and diving into the chaotic, unpredictable world Maya thrived in. Her world was polished, controlled. Perfectly imperfect, but within bounds.

And yet, Maya was asking. Begging, almost.

Her holo-display lit up again. Another notification. This one from Raine. No, about her.

The analytics screen still lit up in the dim studio, a glaring reminder of everything Lena didn’t want to face.

10 billion views in 24 hours.

The headline pulsed alongside Raine’s flawless projection on the screen. Lena leaned forward, her elbows resting on the edge of her desk, as she scrolled through the article, her fingers clenching the console tighter with every word.

"Raine’s latest sensory performance shatters all previous records, including Astra’s historic 9 billion view milestone from six decades ago."

Lena’s jaw tightened. The phrase “including Astra’s historic milestone” wasn’t just a reminder—it was a knife.

She swiped the article away and opened her analytics. Her own viewership was steady, but steady wasn’t enough. 

Lena stared again at the notification, her stomach twisting. It was the last thing she wanted, but her finger moved before she could stop herself.

Raine’s face materialized in the air before her, exuding the effortless grace that made her performances impossible to ignore. “Lena,” she said, her tone polite but firm. “I thought it was time we talked.”

Lena leaned back, crossing her arms. “Oh? What about?”

Raine’s expression remained calm, almost too calm. “About how you’re doing. And how I can help.”

Lena laughed, sharp and hollow. “Help? That’s rich. You want to help me by rubbing it in?”

Raine frowned, the faintest flicker of irritation crossing her face. “It’s not about the record, Lena. You know that. This isn’t a competition—”

“Isn’t it?” Lena cut in, her voice cold. “You’ve been competing with me since the day you started. Don’t act like this is some friendly check-in.”

Raine paused, her gaze steady. “Look, I know this format isn’t easy for you. It’s not easy for anyone, not even me. But this isn’t about taking you down—it’s about keeping humans in the spotlight. For both of us.”

Lena scoffed. “Both of us? You don’t need me, Raine. You’re practically untouchable.”

“That’s not true, and you know it,” Raine said, her voice softening. “People love you because you’re real. You show them something they can connect to, something they can’t get from a transhuman. I can’t replace that, Lena.”

“Spare me,” Lena muttered, her fingers drumming against the desk. “If you really cared, you wouldn’t have swooped in on those brand deals. You wouldn’t have undercut me every chance you got.”

Raine’s expression tightened. “Those were professional decisions, Lena. Not personal.”

“They felt personal,” Lena snapped. “You act like this is just business, like it’s all part of the game. But it’s not a game to me, Raine. This is my life.”

“I know it’s not a game. But this industry doesn’t slow down for anyone, Lena. If I didn’t take those opportunities, someone else would have. You know that.”

“Yeah, and you’d probably call them to ‘check on in,’ too,” Lena said bitterly.

Raine let out a quiet sigh. “I’m not your enemy, Lena. I want you to succeed.”

“Why?” Lena asked, her voice sharp. “Why do you care so much about what I do?”

Raine hesitated, and for the first time, there was a flicker of something genuine in her expression. “Because if you go down, it’s not just you who loses.”

Lena stared at her, the weight of Raine’s words settling uncomfortably in her chest.

“Think about it,” Raine said, her tone softer now. “You’ve always been the one who shows people what it means to be human. Naturally, I am the ‘enemy’ here in the Idol world. But it’s all for show. It’s showbiz! Please don’t let that slip away.”

The call ended with a faint chime, leaving Lena alone in the silence of her studio. She leaned back in her chair, her gaze drifting to the analytics screen. Raine’s words echoed in her mind.

But as her eyes settled on the flat lines of her own metrics, the bitter edge of her resentment flared again.

HOTWIRED! HOTWIRED! HOTWIRED! HOTWIRED! HOTWIRED! HOTWIRED! HOTWIRED!

The Net training space shimmered into place around Lena, a kaleidoscope of shifting hues and textured light. She stood at the center, her body reflected infinitely in the mirrored void beneath her feet. The air thrummed with the hum of an unseen engine, its vibrations settling low in her chest.

Raine was wrong.

“Begin session,” Lena muttered, her voice sharp.

The Net roared to life around her. Columns of fractured light stretched toward a pixelated sky, their shifting edges glowing in a pulsing rhythm. The ground beneath her rippled like liquid glass, shimmering with every step she took.

The space wasn’t meant for her—for humans. It was a playground for transhumans, their neural pathways seamlessly attuned to this digital chaos. 

For Lena, it was an assault on her senses, a storm she had to weather while dragging her fragile, mortal body along for the ride.

The tempo began, low and steady, a heartbeat of sound that made her chest tighten. She flexed her fingers, readying herself, as holographic shapes materialized in front of her, spinning in erratic patterns.

Move. Adapt. Perform. 

\\\

LENA…

The first shape darted toward her, a blur of light. Lena lunged, her hand slicing through empty air as it passed.

“Shit!” she hissed. Her muscles tensed as she readjusted, her mind struggling to catch up with the barrage of stimuli. 

Another shape appeared, spinning toward her in a jagged arc. She leapt, her fingers grazing its edge, and the console chimed in disapproval.

MISS.

Her head throbbed faintly, the pressure building behind her eyes. She pushed forward, gritting her teeth as the shapes multiplied. 

Each movement felt wrong, her limbs stiff and uncoordinated as the Net pushed her further out of sync.

\\\

THIS ISN’T GOOD FOR YOU…

The tempo quickened, the beat pounding in her ears like a war drum. The lights sharpened, blinding and relentless. The shapes came faster now, their trajectories erratic, impossible to predict.

Lena’s breath hitched as she lunged for another shape, her arm stretching just far enough to catch it. 

The simulation jolted in response, the feedback hitting her nerves like an electric shock.

Her vision blurred for a moment, a halo of light searing into the edges of her peripheral. She shook her head, trying to clear the fog, but it only made the pounding worse.

The arena shifted again. The ground beneath her warped and buckled, throwing her balance off. 

Lena stumbled, catching herself just as the next shape appeared. 

She reached for it, her hand trembling, but her mind faltered, the delay stretching into a chasm she couldn’t close.

The shape passed, and the console’s chime rang out again—a flat, merciless tone.

MISS.

\\\

YOU ARE FADING…

A sharp, pulsing ache bloomed at the base of her skull, radiating outward. The lights flickered, their intensity flaring in sync with the rhythm, each flash driving a spike deeper into her head.

“Adjusting difficulty,” the system intoned, its voice clinical and detached.

The tempo doubled, the shapes now a whirlwind of jagged light. 

Lena swayed, her breath coming in shallow gasps as her vision darkened at the edges. 

She could feel her pulse in her temples, each beat like a hammer against her skull.

The headache wasn’t just pain. 

It was something deeper, more insidious—like her brain was tearing itself apart, synapse by synapse, trying to process too much, too fast.

SHUT UP!! SHUT UP!!

“Stop… please make it goddamn…” she muttered, the word barely audible. But the Net didn’t stop. It never stopped. 

\\\

Shapes swarmed her, their movements chaotic, overlapping. Lena flailed, her arms moving on instinct as she tried to hit the targets. 

Her body screamed at her to stop, her muscles trembling with exhaustion, but she wouldn't listen. She wouldn't give in. She was not a coward.

FOCUS LENA!

The lights brightened again, a searing white that burned into her retinas. Her movements grew erratic, desperate. 

The Net felt alive, pressing against her, overwhelming her senses until she could barely tell up from down.

Her legs buckled, and she hit the ground hard.

The pain shot through her like lightning, but she forced herself back up, her breaths ragged and uneven.

FOCUS!

“Focus!” she shouted, her voice cracking. “Just… focus! Please!!”

She reached for another shape, her fingers closing around it just as the simulation shifted. The feedback slammed into her, a jolt that left her reeling. 

The pounding in her head surged, and the world around her spun violently. 

THUD! THUD! THUD!

“PLEASE!!”

\\\\\\\ \  \\\ \\ \

CONTROL! YOUR! SELF!

“CONTROL! YOUR! SELF!!”

The lights flickered erratically, their sharp edges cutting into her vision. The shapes blurred into streaks of color, their movements impossible to follow. 

Lena swayed, her knees trembling as she fought to stay upright.

Then came the flash—a blinding burst of light that sent her crashing to the ground.

Her head hit the surface with a dull thud, and the arena dissolved around her. 

\\\

Lena’s eyes fluttered open, her vision swimming as the sterile light of her condo came into focus. Her head throbbed with a searing, relentless pain, every beat of her heart sending fresh waves of agony through her skull.

“Emergency services have been contacted,” the house VI announced, its voice infuriatingly calm.

“No,” Lena rasped, her throat dry. She tried to sit up, but her body refused to cooperate. Her arms trembled, barely able to support her weight. “Cancel… the call.”

“You have practiced this routine for one day and a half now. I cannot comply,” the VI replied, its tone unyielding. “Your vitals and blood-sugar concentration levels indicate—”

“Just… cancel it!” Lena snapped, her voice cracking. Tears streamed down her face. The effort sent her collapsing back onto the couch, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Her vision blurred again, and she felt the edges of unconsciousness creeping closer.

"Regrettably, this is non-negotiable." 

The VI’s voice droned on, its words distant and indistinct as Lena’s mind slipped into the void.