Morning light poured in through the window, soft and golden, settling across Nash's bed like a quiet invitation to take it slow. For once, he didn't have anywhere to be. No classes. No client calls. Just a rare day off, untouched and his to keep.
He sat up slowly, stretching, enjoying the silence for all of thirty seconds.
"Equinox-00: Daily task activated. Complete all health-related tasks for today. This will improve physical stamina and mental clarity.
Task 1: 50-minute workout session completed.
Task 2: Eat a balanced breakfast."
Of course. Nash let out a low sigh, rubbing at his eyes. The system didn't take breaks. Still, he couldn't deny it—since the routines started, his focus had been sharper. He didn't always like it, but it worked.
After a quick shower, he wandered into the kitchen, towel draped around his neck. His mom was already there, setting out toast and eggs. The usual weekday calm. His dad had probably left hours ago.
"Morning," he said, voice still rough with sleep.
"Good morning," she replied, smiling without looking up. "You're off to the bank today?"
"Yeah," he said, reaching for a piece of toast. "Something about an account upgrade. They sent an email."
She nodded, unfazed, and let him be. They ate in comfortable silence—the kind that came from years of routine and unspoken understanding. When he was done, he slipped on his jacket and headed for the door.
Outside, the air had that early crispness that always made him feel more awake. He was halfway down the sidewalk when the system pinged again.
"Equinox-00: Reminder: You are required to maintain a professional appearance for today's visit. A formal yet comfortable look is recommended."
He looked down at himself. Hoodie. Worn jeans. Sneakers.
"Really?" he muttered. "I'm going to a bank, not a job interview."
"Equinox-00: Your chances of success increase with a refined appearance. A more polished look may enhance your interactions at the bank."
Nash rolled his eyes. "So now you're giving fashion advice?"
But still… he turned around.
Back inside, he dug through his closet and pulled out the cleanest button-down he owned—a crisp white one—and shrugged on a fitted black jacket. He kept the jeans, swapped the sneakers for something less scuffed, and gave himself a once-over in the mirror.
It wasn't bad. Clean, confident—without trying too hard.
"Equinox-00: Reminder: Wallet and phone?"
"I know," he muttered, grabbing them off the counter.
And then, like always, he paused at the hallway wall. Let his eyes linger on the family photos—ones that hadn't changed in years. A small thing, but it grounded him.
He exhaled and stepped outside again.
The bank wasn't far, but the streets were already buzzing—early office workers, students, people with somewhere to be. Just before Nash reached the front steps, his phone buzzed again.
"Equinox-00: Professional Communication Boost activated. Your ability to express yourself with clarity and impact is now enhanced. Proceed with confidence."
It hit instantly. Not a high, not adrenaline. Just a strange calm, like his nerves had been ironed flat.
-----------
Inside, the bank hummed with that quiet, corporate energy. A woman at the front desk smiled at him.
"Good morning, sir. How can I help you?"
He cleared his throat. "I got an email about the Chase Preferred Account. I'm here to learn more."
Her smile widened. "Perfect. I'll connect you with one of our account managers."
Moments later, he was shaking hands with a sharply dressed rep and walking toward a glass-walled office. Normally, that kind of thing would make his stomach twist. But not today. Today, he was fine.
Better than fine.
The conversation flowed. He didn't fumble his words or second-guess what to say. No awkward pauses. Just confidence—quiet, steady, and fully present.
The account rep, whose name was Greg Thornton, walked him through the details.
"Priority customer service, higher withdrawal limits, exclusive investment tools… once you're approved, your card will arrive in about five to seven business days," she explained.
Nash nodded, processing. It sounded good. More than good—it felt like another step forward.
By the time he left, the paperwork was signed and everything was in motion. Outside, the sun was higher in the sky, and for the first time in a while, Nash didn't feel like he was faking anything.
He hadn't stumbled. Hadn't sweated through his shirt. Hadn't even worried about how he came across.
The system's boost had done its job.
But it wasn't just that.
He was changing.