Here's a fun fact they don't teach you in school: Reality is overrated.
Yeah, I said it.
People worship free will like it's the final boss of consciousness. But from what I've seen? Free will is just a fancy UI — all shiny buttons and dropdowns — but underneath? It's just messy spaghetti code, running on half-baked emotions and outdated trauma files.
So when I woke up with Hyposync installed on my phone, my first thought wasn't "Oh no, am I being hacked?"It was more like:
"Did I just unlock developer mode on the human brain?"
Let's talk system specs.You know how apps usually come with some boring tutorial? "Swipe left to delete," "Tap here to snooze," blah blah?
Hyposync skipped all that. Instead, it gave me a neural connection test.A legit cognitive sync protocol.
And yes, I aced it. Not because I'm some genius, but because the system was choosing me as much as I was choosing it. It wanted someone who had nothing.No social rank. No support. No future.
Basically, a clean slate with trauma DLC.
When I opened the app for the first time, here's what I saw:
== Console ==
[HYPO-SYNC SYSTEM v1.0 - UNLOCKED]
Welcome, ETHAN VALE.
You are now a Cognitive Operator.
❯ Scanning environment…
❯ Emotional patterns detected: Anxiety. Isolation. Rage.
❯ Processing…
>>> SYSTEM READY.
>>> Target list unlocked.
>>> Begin synchronization? Y/N
>>> Guess what I pressed?
== // ==
Y. Obviously.
Now, before you start picturing me as some trench coat-wearing edgelord whispering "Obey me" into people's ears, let me clarify — this system doesn't work like a magic spell. It's smarter. More... surgical.
Hyposync is like a deepfake of your soul.It analyzes people's behavioral patterns, emotional leaks, and subconscious triggers — then lets me nudge them. Redirect their thoughts. Rewrite their beliefs. Make a memory glitch. Or a craving. Or a compulsion.
It's not about barking orders — it's about reprogramming reality in a way that feels like it was always meant to be.
Think of it like this:
Your mind is a smart home. Most people live in it, clueless, while their subconscious controls the lights, doors, thermostat, and sketchy Google Home. What Hyposync does?It hands me the admin login.
Suddenly, I can dim your memories.Open the door to forbidden thoughts.Set your emotional thermostat to "desperately in love" or "helplessly obedient."
And you'll never know I was there.You'll think it was your own idea.Now that's power.
Of course, there's a catch.Because of course there is.
The Kraken OS is the real brain behind the app — an AI I haven't fully figured out yet. It's watching. Guiding. Learning from me. It talks sometimes.
Not in words. In feelings. In… system updates that install without permission. Like this one I got yesterday:
== Console ==
>>> KRAKEN OS UPDATE: EMOTIONAL RESONANCE v1.2 ENABLED
>>> "You may now amplify desires, cravings, or fears within a 12m radius. Use responsibly. Or don't. No one's judging."
== // ==
Creepy? Absolutely. Did I still use it? Also absolutely.
You'd think the first person I tested it on would be some random NPC. But no. Of course it was her. Sugar. My stepsister.
She walked into my room like she owned the air. Wearing one of those oversized hoodies that girls somehow weaponize. Half asleep. Totally oblivious.
I didn't even touch the app.
I just thought about her — focused — let the app sync naturally.And in seconds, her posture softened. Her tone dipped. Her body language turned from "annoying little gremlin" to "lost kitten."
Just from proximity.
I blinked. She blinked back.And then she smiled.
Not the usual smirk.Something… softer.
Like something in her mind had tilted.Just slightly. Just enough.
I powered off the app. Immediately. Heart pounding. Palms sweaty. (Yes, actual spaghetti.)
Was that real? Did I really just—
Yeah. I did.
And I was never going back to normal again.
This isn't a superpower. It's not a blessing. It's a system. An interface for humanity itself.
And I've just been made root user
----
Let me set the record straight:I wasn't born unlucky.I was patchworked into it.
Life didn't just give me lemons — it served me expired lemons, wrapped in debt, dipped in trauma, and delivered via a flaming Amazon drone that crashed into my soul.
Yeah. That kind of unlucky.
My name's Ethan Vale.And if my life was an RPG, I would've been the dude who spawned in with:
✖ No parents
✖ No buffs
✖ -3 Charisma
✖ And a starter pack of crippling social anxiety
No quests. No gold. No plot armor.Just pain, rejection, and an internet connection.
My mom?
Gone. Like a ghost that never haunted me. Died when I was four. Cancer or car crash — everyone says something different. I don't remember her face. Just the echo of some lullaby she used to hum that still haunts my dreams like an error code.
Dad?
Alive. Technically. But "alive" in the NPC who remarried a woman 10 years younger and bailed on his kid like it was a tax write-off kinda way.
Spoiler alert: he didn't just walk away. He traded me for a cleaner life. A shinier family. Left me with his new wife — the CEO-stepmom from hell — and her bratty fashion-obsessed daughter, Sugar.
It's funny. They weren't evil… just better at pretending I didn't exist than I was at pretending I was okay.
School?
A glitchy simulation of status, hormones, and trauma.I wasn't bullied, exactly — that'd require people noticing me.
I was invisible. Background noise. The sad little smart kid who sat at the back of the class hacking code into his school-issued Chromebook while everyone else Snapchatted their filtered lives away.
I didn't do clubs. Didn't do friends. Didn't even do therapy.
(Although I did diagnose my therapist with projection during our second session. That didn't go well.)
The only thing that ever made sense to me was logic.
Not school logic. Not math tests and history facts. I mean deep logic. System-level thinking. Human pattern recognition. While the rest of the world ran on chaos, I was decoding it like a machine learning model with a grudge.
And guess what I learned?
If the game is rigged —Don't play fair. Write your own damn engine.
I spent nights coding programs no one would ever see. Building AIs that wrote poetry. Reverse-engineering dating sims to understand human behavior. Simulating consciousness in RAM just for fun.
All while sleeping in a storage room with flickering lights and a ceiling fan that sounded like it was about to commit suicide.
My stepmom never visited. Sugar only entered to steal my charger or humiliate me in her Instagram stories. I existed like a digital ghost in their offline lives.
But the funny thing is...
The more life ignored me — the more the system inside me sharpened.
Like every rejection added another layer to my OS. Every heartbreak updated my emotional firewall. Every sleepless night became a node in the neural map I was building in my head.
People thought I was quiet. I wasn't quiet. I was recording. Watching. Dissecting. Waiting for the day I could finally rewrite the code.
And that day?
It came disguised as a cracked phone with no SIM and an app that shouldn't exist.
Hyposync. The tool. The weapon. The beginning.
Because for once, life didn't give me trash. It gave me a key.
Not to escape.
To break in.
So yeah, I was unlucky.
But now?
I'm the anomaly.
The root admin in a world of default users