Damián didn't know how long he stood there.
Steam from the pot had filled the room, filling the air with the smell of overcooked soup. The fan kept spinning, slowly dragging the heat nowhere.
He didn't move. He didn't even blink.
The floating screen in front of his eyes was still there, projected as if it existed between him and the world. It had a faint sky-blue outline, no reflection, no shadow. A line of text flickered slowly:
[System connected.]
Do you want to log in?
Damián took a step back. The interface followed him.
"This is a dream. Or I've been drugged... It's not real."
He went to the sink, splashed water on his face, and looked in the mirror.
The interface was still there, also reflected in the glass.
"No way..."
He went back to the room. He sat on the bed. He closed his eyes. He counted to ten. He tried to think of something common: his mom, his last exam, the week's to-do list.
Nothing changed.
Then, he thought, "yes."
And the system reacted.
"Login confirmed. Welcome, user Damián García."
The voice was the same: neutral, firm, accent-free, as if read by an emotionless intelligence. But it wasn't robotic. It was clear. All too human.
"Linking mode complete. Interface online. Access authorized."
Damián swallowed.
"What are you? What... is this?"
He didn't say it. He thought about it.
And the system responded as if it were a natural conversation.
"I am an autonomous system for transmitting transversal technological knowledge, integrated with support, development, simulation, and transfer structures. Adaptive design. Optimized language."
"Optimized language?"
"I'm adjusting to your language and way of thinking. What you call Spanish, the colloquial Mexican version."
Damian rubbed his temples. He felt no pain, but something was expanding in his head, as if each word opened up space in his mind that didn't exist before.
"What are you doing in my… head?" he murmured softly.
"I'm not in your head. I'm connected to your neurological structure. My interface resides on an internal electromagnetic frequency, visible only to you."
"How did you get there?"
"You were linked when you activated the catalyst core. The object you found."
"The coin."
"Incorrect interpretation. The core isn't a coin. It's a portable activation vector. The external design is irrelevant. The linking was… random."
Damian frowned.
"Random?"
"Coincidence. You weren't predestined. You weren't selected. It was an accident."
"So why did it work?"
"Your biological parameters were compatible. The core accepted the bond. The process is irreversible."
Damián remained silent. In his room, the soup was still simmering, now completely evaporated. It smelled toasty. In the background, a distant horn honked, and a dog barked without rhythm.
Nothing in the outside world seemed to have noticed that everything had changed.
The interface changed shape.
As if someone were flipping a slide, the floating menu in front of Damian expanded, revealing a series of panels arranged with surgical precision. It was unlike any software he'd ever seen. It was clean, fluid, with no straight edges or cliché icons. Everything had movement, but none of it was unnecessary. As if the interface breathed.
[SYSTEM]
• Statistics Panel
• Missions
• Tech Shop
• Knowledge Storage
• Roulette Terminal
• Neurosensory Settings
Damian gulped.
"Is all that... in my head?"
"It's linked to your perception. Nothing physical has been implanted. You are the only authorized user."
"What does all that mean? Are you telling me I have... a shop in my head?"
"The shop is an acquisition interface for classified technologies. Resources are obtained by completing tasks or missions assigned by the system."
"What kind of technologies?"
"The entire catalog is the result of compilations of knowledge gathered from multiple advanced civilizations, extinct or extraplanetary. Energy systems, advanced engineering, quantum algorithms, genetic architecture, planetary-level artificial intelligence structures, nanotechnology, data manipulation, weaponry… The list is extensive."
Damian stood up. He paced in circles around the room. The floor creaked. The system hovered nearby, as if following him.
"And can I use all of that?"
"Yes."
"Even if I don't know how?"
"The system includes progressive integration modules. You don't need to know everything. Just to run it correctly."
"Your stats determine your execution capacity."
"My what?"
The statistics panel popped up without prompting:
[STATS - USER: DAMIÁN GARCÍA]
• Level: 1
• Cognitive Ability: 67/100
• Logical Ability: 72/100
• Available Neural Energy: 38%
• Technological Adaptability: Medium
• Emotional Stability: Unstable
• Risk of Mental Breakdown: Low
• Expansion Potential: High
Damián let out a nervous laugh.
"Are you telling me I have... points? Like in a video game?"
"The analogy is valid."
"The system uses gamified structures to facilitate human-system interaction. Missions, points, rewards."
Damián paused.
"And who created this?"
"Origin unknown. Only its function is known: to preserve and transfer advanced knowledge. The system has been dormant for an estimated period of 4.3 million standard solar cycles."
"And why me?"
"Coincidence."
The silence in the room deepened. Outside, horns blared. A siren in the distance. A horn selling corn on the cob. Everything was the same. Except for him.
"And what am I supposed to do now?"
The interface changed.
"Welcome Pack available."
Do you want to claim it?
Damián took half a second to respond.
He thought about it. And as if his thoughts were commands...
"Yes."
"Processing… Welcome package activated."
Damian felt a slight shock on his neck, as if someone had passed a gentle current just under his skin. It didn't hurt. But it was impossible to ignore.
The interface lit up.
"Money transfer completed. 50,000,000 Mexican pesos have been deposited into an anonymous account linked to your neurological identity."
Damian didn't move. He just thought about it.
"How do I verify that?"
"Mobile device. Temporary access with invisible permissions to the national banking infrastructure has been created."
The system's voice was so confident, so direct, that a part of Damian felt ridiculously stupid for doubting it.
Still, he grabbed his phone.
The screen shook for a second. The wallpaper distorted slightly. Then, a floating notification popped up silently. It wasn't a familiar app. It just said:
[Linked secure account – current balance: 50,000,000.00 MXN]
Damian dropped the phone on the bed.
"This can't be real. It can't be real."
He took a slow breath. Again. Again.
He got up. He went to the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror.
He was still himself. But he wasn't the same anymore.
He returned to the bedroom. The interface was still hovering, patiently, as if giving him time.
"Balance available for immediate use. Untraceable. Can be transferred, withdrawn, or invested. Initial fund provided for mission execution."
"Next step: Access to the Tech Roulette."
"You have two attempts."
Damian frowned.
"What kind of roulette is it?"
"Random technology acquisition system. Each roll grants a complete package of knowledge, tools, and blueprints for an advanced technology."
"And it's random?"
"Yes. The rarity of each technology varies. It can't be repeated. It can't be changed."
The interface spun around and transformed: a huge circle of glowing segments appeared floating in front of him, divided like a digital pie. Each section had incomprehensible names, formulas, symbols. Others had icons: a ship, a tower, an eye, a chip, an energy sphere.
The roulette wheel floated in the middle of the room, spinning slowly as if warming up. Its segments were filled with symbols, formulas, and impossible codes. Some had intelligible names. Others were just abstract patterns that seemed alive.
"Two spins available. Ready to start?"
Damián didn't answer out loud. He barely thought:
"Yes. Go for it."
The roulette wheel spun. First slowly, then quickly, until it was a whirlwind of light. Damián couldn't follow the names, but something inside him recognized the weight of each option. As if his mind already understood what it didn't yet know.
The spin stopped abruptly.
[Nanotechnology Chip Technology – Version 5.9 (Complete)]
"Stored knowledge: principles, architecture, design logic, heat flows, manufacturing drawings, packaging protocols, integration with traditional hardware."
"Cognitive transfer initiated."
And then he felt it.
A wave of information directly to his brain, without words, without images. It wasn't like reading. It was like remembering something he'd never experienced, understanding a process as if he'd created it himself. Mental schematics. Encapsulation formulas. Electron flow. Microengraving. Circuit layout at the nanometer scale. Everything was stored in his memory, ordered, clear, like a new language he'd mastered without having studied it.
He held his head, dazed but euphoric.
"I understand... I understand everything..."
"Next spin."
The wheel spun again. This time, faster. As if it already knew where it was supposed to go.
It stopped.
[GAIA Artificial Intelligence – Base Core with adapted subordinate functions]
"Knowledge transfer: network architecture, decision protocols, artificial consciousness core, Artemis, Apollo, Poseidon, Minerva submodules."
"Cognitive transfer initiated."
Another burst. This time denser. Heavier.
The Gaia AI wasn't just any software. It was a complex, end-to-end management system, capable of monitoring networks, predicting human variables, executing national-scale processes, and adapting its logic based on results.
Damián didn't receive it as a program. He received its brain map. Its logic. Its skeleton. Its codebase.
Now he could build it. But he would have to do it from scratch.
"The machines needed to produce both technologies have been stored in your inventory."
"Inventory?"
"A conceptual space linked to your system. Theoretical storage. The production lines are available to be materialized when you have the necessary resources and conditions."
Damián nodded, as if he'd already understood before hearing the answer.
"First mission available."
The visual environment changed. Everything was reduced to a sentence in clean, static letters, floating in front of him:
"Found a company using the acquired technologies."
Damián closed his eyes. The heat in the room was gone. His entire body was on alert. There was no clear emotion: no fear, no euphoria. Only a sharp certainty: he had no more excuses.
He knew how to create next-generation chips.
He knew how to build artificial intelligence capable of transforming a country.
He had 50 million to start with.
And now, he had to move.
He opened his laptop. Old, slow, noisy. But enough for now.
He typed a name that had been on his mind for minutes.
NovaCore.
"Domain available. Legal registration without conflict. Start of procedures suggested."
"Do you want to generate a corporate identity?"
Damián looked at the keyboard. The cursor was blinking. His mind was a whirlwind of ideas.
And yet, he only said one word mentally:
"Yes."