"Hostess, a hot milk please," Adelaide said, lifting the safety card like a shield.
"Host bound; I am Ari," a cold voice answered inside her head.
Adelaide blinked. She stared at the flight attendant and mouthed nothing. The voice continued with the tone of someone reading a clinical report.
"System [ID 87861032]. Life contract available. Offer: extension of life-days in exchange for completing public missions. First mission window ready."
Adelaide pinched the bridge of her nose. She forced a laugh that landed small and brittle. "That's a joke," she said out loud. "Is this a prank? Who hacked my head?"
"Humor detected. Not a prank," Ari replied. "You have two months of baseline life expectancy without intervention. Binding secures additional life-days. Conditions: public exposure, mission compliance. Bind?"
The flight attendant returned with a silver tray. "Anything else, Miss Harris?"
Adelaide took the cup, clutched it. She felt the plane's hum under her palms and the voice's calm precision like a cut crystal. "No, thank you," she answered the attendant, then turned the cup so it hid her face.
"Proof," she said to the voice. "Give me proof you exist."
"Probe: reveal visible UI to host only." A soft shimmer filled her vision like a translucent card. Text, precise and clinical, hovered over her lap: CONTRACT — BIND? REWARD: +480 LIFE-DAYS. MISSION: Attend Deleon Banquet. TARGET: Pending. Confirm by voice or touch.
Adelaide stared at the floating card. It was impossible and unmistakable. She flicked the corner of
