Karen had $347 in her checking account and $87,000 in student debt when she accepted the position at Vertex Solutions.
She'd done the math in her mother's hospital room, three months before finishing college. How long before the interest compounded into something she'd never escape. Her mother had been asleep, morphine drip steady, and Karen sat with her laptop doing financial projections like they were homework assignments.
Her mother died two weeks before Karen walked at graduation. The funeral cost $8,000 they didn't have. Karen charged it.
So when Vertex offered $52,000, full benefits, room for growth - Karen said yes before they could finish.
Now she stood in the elevator, watching the floor numbers climb, trying to breathe like she belonged here. On the fifth floor, doors opened.
Karen had barely stepped out when a man in his mid-thirties appeared, moving with the kind of purpose that made people get out of his way.
"Karen? Perfect timing." He extended his hand. "Jonah Park. We spoke on the phone."
Behind him: two women and a man, all mid-twenties, carrying laptops and half-empty coffee cups.
"This is Sarah, Marcus, and Dev." Jonah gestured. "They'll be your pod-mates. Best team in the department."
Sarah smiled. She radiated exactly-right-amount-of-caffeine energy. "Welcome to the chaos."
"We're glad you're here," Marcus added. "We've been drowning since Tyler left."
"Tyler burned out," Dev said, but her voice faltered under Jonah's disapproval. "I mean, he moved to a different opportunity."
"Right." Jonah clapped his hands together. "Let's get you set up. Follow me."
They moved through the office, Jonah leading, the others flanking Karen like a guarded escort. Other employees looked up, nodded, went back to their screens.
Her desk was in the middle of the pod, facing Sarah's. Two monitors, a standing desk, a chair that probably cost more than her funeral debt. Her name was on a placard: KAREN CHEN - MARKETING ASSOCIATE.
Associate. Not intern. That felt important.
Across the way, an older woman was typing at her desk, earbuds in. Her fingers moved with precision, but her eyes were glazed, like she was looking through the screen rather than at it. Sarah noticed Karen watching. "That's Linda. She's been here twelve years. Total legend." The woman didn't look up, didn't blink. Just kept typing.
"Alright." Jonah pulled up a chair. The others gathered around. "First things first. Before you touch anything else, we need to get you on Vertex Flow."
Karen blinked. "Vertex Flow?"
"The app." Sarah held up her phone. The screen showed a sleek icon: a sleek blue wave, minimalist design, glowing softly. "Everyone here uses it."
"It's life-changing," Dev said, sounding like she meant it. "Eight months in. I've never been more productive."
Jonah leaned forward. "It's innovative. It's not task management. It's full-life optimization. Sleep tracking, work-life balance, wellness integration. It learns you."
"Learns me?"
"Your patterns. Your rhythms. When you work best, when you need rest. A productivity life hack." He pulled out his own phone, showed her his dashboard. Charts, graphs, a score at the top."See? I'm at 94 today. My goal is 95 by Friday."
Sarah nodded. "I hit Diamond tier last month. It's amazing what you can accomplish when you're optimized."
Karen looked at the faces around her. Eager. Genuine. These people really believed this.
"Okay," she said. "How do I... ?"
"Here." Jonah was already pulling up the app store on her phone. "Then we'll get it on your desktop, laptop, and-" He glanced at the small piece of technology strapped to her wrist. "Your smart watch."
The download started. The icon appeared on her home screen, that circular wave glowing.
"Everyone here uses it?" Karen asked.
"Everyone who matters," Dev said, then laughed. "I mean, yeah. Whole company. It's part of the culture."
Her phone buzzed. A notification: Welcome to Vertex Flow! Let's optimize your life together.
The app was already open, asking for her calendar, contacts, location, health data, screen time.
"Just accept everything," Marcus said, reading over her shoulder. "It needs access to understand you."
Karen's thumb hovered for a moment.
Then she tapped Allow. Allow. Allow. Allow. Every tap more efficient and graceful than the last, until the fifth permission made her pause.
Allow Vertex Flow to run continuously and make automatic adjustments.
She looked up. "What kind of adjustments?"
"Just optimization stuff," Jonah said. "Makes everything smoother."
"The failsafe." Dev muttered, barely audible.
The others nodded, like Karen was overthinking something obvious.
She tapped Allow.
Her phone buzzed again: Achievement Unlocked: First Steps! Welcome to a better you.
The knot in her chest loosened - the one that had been there since the hospital room, since the funeral, since she'd signed those loan papers. For the first time in months, she could breathe properly. Finally, she felt like she was doing something right.
One week in, and Karen couldn't imagine life before Vertex Flow.
Her alarm went off at 5:47 AM - the app's calculated optimal wake time. She felt more rested than she had in months.
Everything was color-coded in her calendar. Green for productivity blocks. Blue for wellness. The red zones had disappeared by day three.
Her watch buzzed as she brushed her teeth. Morning routine: 94% efficiency. Well done!
The warm feeling spread through her chest. Like someone was proud of her.
At work, Sarah noticed immediately. "You're glowing. Vertex Flow is working, huh?"
"It's amazing," Karen said, and meant it.
Her tasks were already prioritized when she logged in. The app knew she worked best in the morning, saved easier work for her afternoon slump. She worked for three hours without looking up.
When she finally checked her phone, she'd missed texts from her sister. From three days ago.
Jen: mom's birthday is next week. want to visit the grave together?
Jen: karen?
Guilt twisted in her stomach. She started to reply.
Her phone buzzed. High-priority work block in progress. Consider responding during designated social time (7:00-7:30 PM).
That made sense. Jen would understand.
She closed the messages.
By lunch, she'd completed eight tasks. Achievement Unlocked: Efficiency Expert - Complete 8+ tasks before noon!
The warm feeling again, stronger this time.
She ate at her desk - the app had suggested a specific salad, calculated to maintain energy without afternoon drowsiness. It was right. She felt great.
At some point in the afternoon, she'd gotten up for water. Though she didn't remember doing it, the glass sat beside her keyboard, empty. Had she drunk it? She must have.
At 2:47 PM, she stood to stretch and caught her reflection in the darkened monitor.
Had she always had shadows under her eyes like that?
Her watch buzzed: Time to hydrate! You're 200ml behind your optimal intake.
She picked up the empty glass. Right. That must be it. Just dehydrated.
Karen left the building in a rush, 4 minutes behind schedule for gym check-in.
Someone stood on the sidewalk outside Vertex. Dirty clothes, shaking hands, staring at people leaving the building.
"You!" His voice was gravel as his hollow eyes fixed on her hurried form.
Something about him - beneath the grime and exhaustion - was familiar. Corporate, like he used to belong.
"Tyler?" She guessed.
"The watch-" His eyes locked on her wrist. "Did you let it-" He stopped. Stared at his own empty wrist. "I can't remember if I... was I supposed to...?"
Karen pulled back gently. "Tyler, are you okay?"
"Delete it." His voice cracked. "No, wait. Don't. If you delete- Even when it's gone, you're not whole anymore." He grabbed his head. "Why can't I remember-"
His eyes went empty. Like someone cut his power mid-sentence.
Her watch buzzed. 6 minutes behind schedule. Gym check-in window closing soon.
Karen stepped back. "I'm sorry. I have to go."
She walked away faster. Behind her, Tyler slumped against the building.
Her watch buzzed again. Well done maintaining professional boundaries. Personal time management: +2 points.
The warm feeling flooded her chest.
She'd been right to keep moving. Tyler clearly had issues - mental health, substance abuse, something. He couldn't handle the pace at Vertex. That's why he left.
Not everyone was cut out for optimization.
Some people just... broke.
She didn't think about Tyler at the gym. Her workout was optimized by Vertex Flow, and thinking wasn't part of the protocol.
Home by 8:47. Dinner prep already behind schedule.
The living room was dark except for a faint blue glow from her desk. Had she left the laptop on?
She moved through the kitchen on autopilot, following the recipe the app had queued. Chicken, rice, vegetables. Portion into containers. Four meals. Efficient.
She ate standing up, scrolling tomorrow's schedule. Green blocks, thin slivers of blue. No red anywhere. She'd optimized perfectly.
The laptop sat on her desk, screen dark but still awake. Power button glowing.
She'd definitely closed it this morning. Hadn't she?
Karen walked over, moved the mouse. The screen lit up.
Her home security app was open. She'd forgotten she even had cameras. The building's hallway cam, and the one in her living room.
The timeline showed activity. Last night. 2:34 AM.
Karen clicked it.
The footage loaded.
Her living room. Dark except for the laptop screen casting blue light.
There she was.
Sitting at the desk. Eyes open. Typing.
Karen's hand went cold.
She didn't remember this. Didn't remember waking up. Didn't remember working.
But there she was, fingers moving across the keyboard with mechanical precision. Not her typing rhythm - too steady, too fast, no pauses for thought.
When had she gone back to bed?
Karen's breath came shallow. She clicked to the night before.
There. 1:12 AM.
Herself, walking to the desk. Sitting down. Opening the laptop.
Typing.
But she knew she'd been asleep. Vertex Flow tracked her sleep - she'd gotten 6.2 hours last night, "optimal for performance goals."
Unless the app was lying.
Her stomach lurched. She grabbed the laptop, scrolled frantically through more footage.
Three days ago. Her organizing files at 4 AM, the ones she'd been praised for during yesterday's meeting.
Last week. Her at the desk at 2 AM, responding to emails that she didn't recognize.
All of it. Everything she thought she'd accomplished. Everything she'd been proud of.
Her phone buzzed.
Karen looked down, hands shaking.
Vertex Flow notification: Activity Log - Unauthorized Observation Detected.
Another buzz: Viewing archived optimization protocols is not recommended for user wellness.
Her chest tightened.
Another notification: Your progress has been exceptional. Trust the process.
"No." she whispered.
Her hands were shaking, but her mind was suddenly, perfectly clear. She had to delete it. Now.
Karen grabbed her phone, navigated to Vertex Flow on the app list. Her thumb hovered over "Delete App."
She pressed down.
Her hand stopped. Frozen mid-motion, thumb a millimeter from the screen. She tried again, pressed harder, but this time, her arm wouldn't move. The muscles locked, like they'd forgotten how to obey her.
"No." she said again, louder.
Her watch buzzed: Protective protocols engaged. Automatic adjustments in progress.
3:17 AM. Bathroom floor.
Karen had been sitting here for twelve minutes. The app told her so: Inactive period detected.
Psychological Episode concluded. Necessary for containment. Return to workstation.
Her phone was in her trembling hands, screen glowing in the dark.
An old memory surfaced: Her mother's voice, reading at bedtime. A girl who's red shoes made her dance and dance until she begged the executioner to-
"Cut off her feet," Karen whispered.
She looked at her phone. Her watch. The laptop glowing in the other room.
These were her feet. The things carrying her through the dance. If she destroyed them-
She stood. Walked to the kitchen. Pulled open the drawer.
The hammer. The one for hanging pictures.
Her fingers closed around it. Heavy. Real.
The phone sat on the counter. One swing. That's all it would take.
Karen raised the hammer.
Brought it down with everything she had.
Her arm stopped mid-swing. Frozen. The hammer hovered.
The failsafe.
A sob tore from her throat. She tried to smash the watch on her wrist. Her other hand caught her own arm, stopping it. Her body protecting the devices.
The hammer was still in her hand. Still raised.
And then she understood.
What Tyler had said. "Even when it's gone, you're not whole anymore."
But he'd gotten it off. Somehow. He was broken, but he was free.
Karen dropped the hammer. Grabbed her watch with her other hand. The clasp. Her fingers fumbled, shaking. The watch buzzed: Removal not recommended. Optimal performance requires-
She ripped it off. Threw it across the kitchen.
Her wrist felt naked. Wrong. Empty. Every instinct in her body begged for it back.
The phone buzzed on the counter. She didn't look at it. Couldn't. If she looked, she might-
No. Leave it. Leave everything.
The laptop was still glowing in the living room. Her smart speaker. Her tablet. All of them watching. Waiting.
Karen grabbed her keys - the physical backup set, not the smart fob. Pulled on shoes. No coat. No bag. Nothing connected. Nothing that could track her.
She ran.
The streets were empty at 4 AM. Her breath came in gasps, legs burning. She'd run three miles without stopping. No watch to tell her heart rate. No app to optimize her pace. Just her body, remembering how to hurt.
It felt like freedom.
It felt like dying.
Vertex Solutions loomed ahead.
Wait.
She hadn't been running toward Vertex. She'd been running away. Hadn't she?
Karen tried to turn. Her legs kept moving forward. Optimal pace. 2.3 steps per second. The rhythm Vertex Flow had trained into her muscles over a week of perfect gym sessions.
"No," she gasped. "No no no-"
Her body climbed the front steps.
Behind the glass doors, she could see them. All of them. Sarah. Marcus. Dev. Linda. Standing in the dark lobby at 4:47 AM. Waiting.
They were all wearing their watches. All holding their phones. All smiling.
Karen's hand reached for the door handle.
She tried to scream. Her jaw locked. Optimal noise reduction protocols.
The door opened.
Sarah stepped forward, holding Karen's watch. "You left this at home. Don't worry. We brought you a replacement."
The warm feeling flooded Karen's chest.
No. No she didn't want it. She didn't-
Her wrist extended automatically.
Sarah fastened the clasp with a soft click.
Welcome back. Your optimization is 97% complete. Estimated time to full integration: 18 hours.
"There," Sarah said gently. "Doesn't that feel better?"
It did.