The Replay system underwent a mandatory upgrade at 4 a.m.
Lia was jolted awake from a dream by the push notification. On her phone screen, a cold system message flashed:
"Replay v3.0 activated — Automated Foundation Verification (AFV) is now live."
In short, this meant that Replay would no longer rely solely on the perspectives of streamers. It was taking over all public lenses across the city—intersection surveillance, bus cameras, social sentiment data, even embedded lenses in smart home devices.
It now held full authority over what "counts" as reality.
Staring into the glow of her screen, Lia felt the world grow just a little quieter.
"We need to move faster," the cameraman murmured.
She had been working with the "Lost Ones" on a plan:
Create a minor incident, stage it carefully in real life, then see if Replay would deem it 'real.'
"We're not here to fight the system," the old woman had said. "We're here to prove—what isn't recorded doesn't mean it didn't happen."
They chose a staged "accidental fall" near an abandoned tram stop. One Lost One would act as the injured victim, Lia would livestream as a witness, simultaneously posting about it on various platforms. They even recruited bystanders to play their part with shocked reactions.
The key was triggering emotional waves.
Replay no longer relied purely on what cameras captured. It now prioritized what emotions were stirred when something was seen—anger, fear, sympathy, doubt—all were weighted in deciding whether something "happened."
"Emotional resonance is the fuel that powers reality," said the cameraman.
Within minutes, their fall incident generated strong reactions in the livestream:
"Help him, someone!"
"Isn't that the old station? What happened there?"
"I'm nearby, I'm going over now!"
Eight minutes in, Replay issued an automated message:
Event recorded.
Foundation rating: 80%.
Archived.
—It acknowledged an incident that never existed in any official record of the city.
Lia was stunned.
It wasn't that the system accepted facts.
It was that emotion that forced the system into the obligation of acknowledgment.
She began to understand: Replay wasn't erasing anomalies. It was managing the credibility of reality, like a game of algorithmic relevance, where only the things that stirred the most emotional impact were "worthy" of being saved.
She thought of the missing boy.
The one who had appeared during the very first glitched stream.
Whose memory had been wiped, whose evidence vanished?
He hadn't disappeared. It's just that, from Replay's perspective, his presence hadn't sparked enough emotional response to warrant archiving.
Lia began preparing the next step:
Create an incident powerful enough to trigger a replay.
She dug out an old slip of paper, the one with E's handwriting:
"Believe what you saw."
She realized—she was no longer a passive receiver.
She would exploit Replay's blind spot, stir up a storm of audience emotion, and force the system to recognize an emergence of reality it could no longer ignore.
She would make Replay remember the boy.
—
Meanwhile, deep in Replay's backend, a string of abnormal logs appeared:
[High-frequency emotional spikes from non-system account]
[Increased likelihood of replay trigger]
[Anomalous perspective suspected of self-intervention]
[Tag: E] [Status: Active (Untraceable)]
In the system's depths, a long-dormant data partition began to boot up.
—Someone was making a long-forgotten event happen again.
---
Chapter 9 Mini Skit
Lost One A (lying on the ground, mid-"fall" performance):
"Was that Oscar-worthy or what? Anyone got a link to the nominations?"
Passerby A (assigned to do a "shocked gasp"):
"Oh my god! Someone call Replay! A person just fell! Can we get a live rating on this?"
Lia (quietly muttering while livestreaming):
"Guys, please spam the chat with 'Somebody help this poor guy!'—if the comments are too chill, Replay won't even care..."
Cameraman (holding the camera, pretending to be just another pedestrian):
"Are we filming a documentary… or accidentally directing a piece of performance art?"