Pulse G7R4X1 · August 16, 2024 · 4 min
Tying Your Shoelaces While Your Social Score Plummets
A routine walk across campus reveals how deeply GRACE has woven itself into everyday life.
The glass façades reflected Theresa’s figure as she hurried across the campus, fleeting echoes of pale blue and black trailing her in the windows of every building she passed.
She had chosen her pumps. They pinched her toes, but they straightened her posture, gave her something solid to stand on—something she needed today. Her light blue blouse had been carefully pressed, her skirt fitted enough to look elegant without drawing attention. Everything was exactly right. Everything had been calculated.
Even her smile, practiced three times in the mirror that morning: friendly, approachable, not too enthusiastic.
GRACE was active. She could always feel it—a faint electric buzz behind her eyes, just beneath her skin. As if someone else were breathing inside her thoughts.
Jonas walked toward her between the two concrete wings of the building. He had earbuds in, but looked up when he saw her. His gaze swept across her face without lingering.
Theresa smiled.
“Good morning,” she said, with the perfect nod, measured, socially acceptable.
He responded with the slightest dip of his chin. No words. No smile.
GRACE pulsed.
–2.
The number slowly faded from behind her eyes, but the feeling lingered.
She slowed for a moment—not abruptly. A shoelace. That was a safe excuse.
She stood there, half bent over, eyes fixed on the gravel.
A girl walked past, long dark hair, black coat. Her gaze seemed to burn into Theresa’s back. It didn’t feel hostile, but she still felt watched.
GRACE remained silent. No pulse. No number. Just silence.
And somehow, the silence was worse.
Later, in the coffee lounge, the atmosphere was as lively as ever. The warm aroma of coffee and fresh pastries filled the room. People were working or chatting animatedly. Theresa was standing at the counter when she heard Jonas laughing with two friends.
“Yeah, I ran into Theresa,” he said casually, as if he were talking about the weather.
“She’s always so cheerful. On a Monday morning, man.”
Outside, Mary sat on a bench in the sun. She scooted over a little, but the shade offered no relief from the heat. Out here she was away from the constant background noise of the coffee counter.
With a graceful flick, Angel spat out a cherry pit, and Mary noticed Theresa visibly cringe. As Theresa took the bag of cherries from Angel, she realized the fruit juice had made the plastic stick to her fingers.
“They’re saying Nova Wilde applied too,” Angel said quietly.
Theresa’s head snapped up. For a split second, Mary thought she saw hesitation. Her voice came out softer than necessary.
“The Nova Wilde? The one from Glassheart?”
Mary raised an eyebrow. “Has that been confirmed?”
“My sister knows someone in her yoga class. She heard her literally ask that guy from Behavioral Ethics, ‘Is GRACE public yet?’”
Theresa let out a low whistle. “If she gets in... it’s over. Everyone will want it.”
Angel nodded. “Then we’ll all end up as brainless drones,” she said, uncertainty creeping into her voice.
Suddenly, laughter rang out across the lawn. A boy’s voice, loud enough to be annoying.
“+5 for the girl in yellow—but only from behind, bro.”
“Nah, man. She’s not even worth a score. Her vibe is desperate.”
Mary turned around. The voices came from a group of boys sprawled across a bench, sunglasses perched on their heads, their scores visible in her HUD. One boy let his eyes linger a little too long on a girl walking past. By now, Mary recognized GRACE’s slower movements even without a notification.
“That’s literally Zara’s roommate,” Theresa whispered.
Angel narrowed her eyes. “If they keep this up, we’re all going to get calibration warnings. GRACE sees this.”
Theresa snorted. “They want GRACE to see them. They still think it’s a game.”
Mary said nothing. Her gaze drifted across the square. Everywhere she looked, the HUD fed her information. She realized how normal that had become.
Riley C. – 782
Amara V. – 765
Dylan M. – 690
Almost everyone. The HUD barely showed any blank spaces anymore.
Less than a month ago, you could stand in a room without numbers floating in your field of vision. Now they were always there. Not intrusive.
Just another ordinary part of seeing.
She stood up.
“I’m heading out,” she said. “Angel, you coming?”
Mary was worried about Angel. Lately she had grown quieter, darker.
Silverdalers, in their own words
Community responses 2
Evan Liu
University Quarter ·
The practiced smile and the unanswered greeting capture how exhausting it is to read meaning into every tiny interaction. A nod can mean distraction, not rejection; a score cannot know the difference.
Clara Mendez
East Campus ·
Theresa choosing painful shoes because they make her feel composed felt painfully recognizable. The scene works because the pressure comes through in ordinary decisions rather than a dramatic confrontation.
Community notes
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