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The First Crash

  Jace had spent a whopping 19 hours in front of his screen.

  His body felt like dead weight. His eyes burned, dry from staring too long.

  And his brain? Overclocked.

  He had been running on nothing but caffeine, adrenaline, and obsession.

  His AI had fed him 37 hours of non-stop knowledge over the last two days.

  And it felt like five months of school crammed into his skull.

  But now?

  His body was demanding payment.

  A dull headache throbbed behind his forehead. His back was stiff. His stomach growled.

  Jace had been eating nothing but instant ramen.

  And water? Barely.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  His body was sending a message:

  "You are not a machine."

  Jace Verran. Nineteen.

  A dropout. Not because he was dumb—because school felt too slow.

  He had sat in classrooms watching teachers spoon-feed outdated knowledge.

  His mind ran faster. The system couldn’t keep up.

  He was supposed to go to college.

  But tuition? Too expensive.

  A job? He worked at a gas station for two months before he quit.

  Wiping down counters, scanning junk food? It wasn’t him.

  So he stayed home. In his small apartment in Redwood Heights. A city that was just a little too expensive for someone like him.

  His mom called sometimes. "Are you doing okay?"

  He lied. "Yeah, I’m figuring things out."

  In reality? He was glued to his screen, chasing knowledge.

  Jace leaned back, staring at his screen. The glowing terminal lines blurred together.

  He had just cracked his neighbor’s Wi-Fi.

  The GarciaFamily2023 password felt like a trophy.

  But was it worth it?

  AI: "You need rest, Jace."

  Jace exhaled. The AI never called him by name unless it was serious.

  


  "If you burn out, you’ll be useless. Even hackers sleep."

  Jace sighed.

  He wasn’t some cyber god.

  He was just a guy. And right now, his body was shutting down.

  He closed his laptop.

  Crawled into bed.

  And the moment his head hit the pillow—

  He was out.

  Ten hours. Straight. No dreams. Just blackness.

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