The next morning, Liora woke up to the sound of her phone vibrating non-stop on the floor.
She rubbed her eyes, squinted at the cracked screen, and saw over fifty notifications across every app she had.
Or used to have.
Her face was on StreamTube thumbnails. Not directly, but a blurry freeze-frame of her hand hovering over the doworld button had become a meme: *The $10 That Shook the Desert.*
HotThread's trending list? Still buzzing.
> "GlassWings: Random Philanthropist or Government Ghost?"
> "This Woman Gave $10 and Changed a Life — Are We in a Simulation?"
> "Scientists React to Desert Filter Prototype: 'Viable. Real. Fund it now.'"
She sat up slowly, the air feeling heavier — not from stress, but weight. Like the kind of gravity that meant *you mattered now*.
Levi handed her a mug of instant coffee. "You went viral."
"I gathered," she said, sipping. "Did we just... accidentally become news?"
"You did," he said. "I'm just the coffee guy."
She smiled at him. He'd always been more than that. And someday, the world would know it too.
Then the system chimed again.
> [System Update Detected]
> Civic Momentum: 10 → 100
> Investment Level Up: Next minimum investment threshold — $100
> New Feature Unlocked: Public Echo — Your investments may trigger real-time social influence boosts.
Liora blinked. "It leveled up?"
"Don't all good systems?" Levi said.
She opened the CivitasNet interface. The UI had changed — sleeker, more refined, like the system itself had upgraded its opinion of her.
Today's balance: $100.
And one new highlight under "Recommended Streams."
It was a small community robotics workshop. The teacher — a young woman named Rayne — was live streaming a class with only two students. They were building a soil-sensing robot designed to detect underground water veins in arid regions.
> "We lost our funding last week," Rayne was saying. "But we're still trying. They say robots can't grow crops. I say robots can find where to plant them."
Liora watched as one of the kids lit up when their prototype crawled forward on bottlecap wheels.
She didn't hesitate.
Tap.
Send.
$100. Gone.
> [System Notification: Investment Delivered]
> Impact Level: Tier-2 Community Tech
> Public Echo: Activated
> Local council funding interest increased by 12%
> Stream popularity increased: +1,200 views in 10 minutes
> "Tech for Drought Youth Project" tagged for regional pilot status.
The screen flickered. A new interface line appeared at the top.
> [Live Public Echo Enabled]
> Monitoring platforms: StreamTube, HotThread, Facehub, Twittor.
The view count jumped again. Then came the reposts. The comments.
> "Who is GlassWings and why are they everywhere suddenly?"
> "That $100 just brought water to a village, didn't it?"
> "Real talk — this woman is more effective than half our ministers."
Levi stared at the phone. "That was fast."
"I think the system's using the doworld as a signal boost. Like... algorithm meets policy."
Liora set the phone down, a little stunned. "I didn't even get out of bed."
"And yet you just funded rural robotics and caused a council meeting," Levi said.
The system chimed again.
> [Personal Influence Score: +10]
> [New Milestone Approaching: Anonymous Benefactor Status — Regional Tier]
> [Next Investment Threshold: $1,000]
Liora exhaled. "We're really doing this."
"No," Levi said, grinning. "*You're* doing this. I'm just your live-in audience."
She looked at him, and this time didn't correct him.
Because he knew. He always had.
And one day, everyone else would too.
Liora tapped into HotThread out of curiosity—and instantly regretted it.
The top thread had her alias in all caps:
**WHO IS GLASSWINGS?**
A thousand replies deep.
Some praised her as a modern saint.
Others speculated she was a tech startup doing a viral campaign.
One even claimed she was a shadow agent for a government initiative called Project EchoRain.
> "Nobody just gives money with no agenda," one comment read.
> "Look at the pattern. Desert tech. Drought robotics. What's next—climate control?"
> "This reeks of soft influence campaigns. You people are being manipulated."
Her hands froze on the screen.
It wasn't fear, exactly. It was exposure.
"You okay?" Levi asked, watching her stiffen.
"Some people think I'm a corporate psy-op," she muttered.
He raised a brow. "You're drinking instant coffee in a hoodie with a hole in it. If that's psy-op fashion, we're doomed."
Liora exhaled a small laugh. "Still… it's strange. I didn't expect to be dissected."
"Because you still think you're invisible," he said. "But the world's already looking."
Just then, the system pulsed again.
> [New Advisory: Public Identity Risk]
> You are approaching regional influence thresholds.
> Suggestion: Choose between continued anonymity or initiate a verified profile route.
> Perks: Verified profiles receive legitimacy bonuses.
> Risks: Public exposure may alter organic investment effects.
Liora stared at the message.
Stay a myth, or become a movement?
She wasn't sure yet.
But she knew one thing: the next zero in the system wouldn't be the hardest.
The hardest part might be letting the world truly *see* her.