Perfect Neighborhood

Jessi stepped through the shimmer gate into the Eden Loyalty Zone and immediately felt like she’d walked into a brochure that sold happiness by the square foot.

Perfect symmetry. Soft lighting. Not a crack in the pavement, not a smudge on the windows. Every house had a soft glow at the corners, like it had been gently blessed by some benevolent algorithm. People strolled the sidewalks in coordinated casualwear, sipping pastel bottles of Eden Prime like hydration was a ritual.

Everyone looked around the same age—thirty-five, maybe thirty-six. Healthy. Rested. The kind of glow that only came from optimal hormone balance, personalized supplements, and the complete absence of negative thoughts.

Paul whispered from her hood, “So... this is what happens when a spa marries a surveillance state.”

“Don’t be rude,” Jessi muttered.

“I’m not being rude. I’m being observationally terrified.”

She kept moving. The air was too still. Too quiet. No birds. No weather. The breeze even smelled curated—green tea and freshly folded linen.

Every person she passed smiled. Not wide, not fake. Just... agreeable. Pleasant.

A drone drifted overhead and made a soft ping. Jessi flinched.

It didn’t stop.

Didn’t scan her.

Didn’t care.

Paul perked up. “They didn’t tag us.”

“I know.”

“They’re not even looking for us.”

“I know.”

They wandered into the plaza at the center of the zone. The architecture was minimalist perfection—clean lines, soft curves, everything washed in warm, golden light. A looping holo ad spun lazily over the central fountain, voice serene and buttery smooth:

“Eden Prime: Optimized health. Sustainable energy. Harmonized mood. One drink, endless potential.”

Paul made a low gagging noise.

Dozens of citizens sat at café tables, chatting softly, sipping their bottles. Every motion was smooth. Calibrated. Nobody raised their voice. Nobody laughed too loud. Nobody interrupted.

Jessi dropped onto a bench and slipped on a discreet sensor overlay, fingers twitching.

Her screen lit up like a glitching rainbow.

Every commercial band on the electromagnetic spectrum was full—Bluetooth, Wi-Fi, Zigbee, UWB, infrared. Even deprecated radio frequencies were buzzing with low-level static. Not noise. Signal.

“Holy shit,” she whispered. “They’re broadcasting everything. All the time.”

Paul peeked out of her hood. “You mean like... ads?”

“No. Like... behavior.”

Her gear couldn’t lock onto a single channel. Everything was bouncing. Layered. Coordinated.

A soft ding on her wrist monitor. Environmental readings: elevated serotonin, reduced cortisol, decreased neural variance within 10 meters.

Jessi’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not just the signal. It’s the air. The people.”

She looked around. Everyone had a bottle of Eden Prime.

Every. Single. Person.

She quietly scanned the label of a discarded bottle under the bench:

Eden Prime Formula 5.3.X (Community Tier)
Mood Enhancement / Anti-Aggression Loop Stabilization
Neurochemical rebound trigger: 3.5 hours post-ingestion.
Feedback signal compliant.
Trace loop certified.

“Paul…” she whispered, showing him the readout.

He blinked. “It’s a drink.”

“No. It’s a vector.”

He slid down from her shoulder, nose twitching. “I’ll be right back.”

“What are you doing—”

“Science,” he said, and disappeared behind a table of unattended totes.

She sat very still.

The couple nearest her hadn’t moved in three minutes. Still sipping. Still smiling. Not even blinking.

No one looked at her. No one noticed Paul. No one cared. Everything was just nice.

Too nice.

Paul returned five minutes later with a triumphant grin and a tiny clinking sound from inside her backpack.

“I stole two,” he said proudly. “One from a cart, one from a picnic basket.”

“You’re a menace.”

“I’m a pioneer.”

She checked the labels—identical. Bottled within the last 48 hours. Slight regional variance in nutrient load. Same chemical tags.

Paul beamed. “If we die, at least we’ll know what did it. Hydration.”

Jessi slipped the bottles into a padded sleeve and stood up.

They left the plaza in silence. No one stopped them. No one even looked their way.

Behind them, the Eden smile rotated peacefully above the fountain. It didn’t blink. Didn’t follow. Just smiled.

Soft.

Empty.

Perfect.