The Carpathian mountains stretched across Europe like the spine of a slumbering dragon. At least, Murphy liked to dream of it that way. Only a dragon could retain its bearing in the face of mankind’s ever-expanding conquest towards self-destruction. Even the stars refused to twinkle with the same vibrance, all but abandoning mankind to their folly. Instead, the sky was covered by satellite dots blinking in unison like pixels on a giant screen. Thanks to the “great innovation” dubbed StarVeil, half of the Eastern European countries saw nothing but ads on the heavenly vault. Looking down at the distant forest of skyscrapers that lit up like the downtown of Tokyo, he laughed. These people, despite living in a backward Romanian city, surrounded themselves in a false cage of light. They abandoned everything for a promised land built atop nothing but lies… “You will own nothing, and you will be happy!” Quoting the infamous prophecy, his sardonic laughter continued, echoing for miles on e

It had been months since that silent proclamation, and little by little, the cobbled up ideas transformed into a true draft. Something he felt was presentable, a snippet he could share with the world without shame. The document was light. At least, it weighed little if measured in kilobytes and words. To Murphy, however, that tiny space on his hard drive was everything. It bore a portion of his soul, so it could not be any heavier. Having written for months, you would expect to see a few volumes of readied material, but no. It was a few thousand words, redrafted endlessly time and time again. If his mind was to be laid bare before the world — it had to be perfect. His mania ended only when he himself was capable of sinking into the allure of that false premise. When each word touched his strings, and all but involuntarily made him feel something special. When his text became a drug, then and only then — he felt ready. With his work complete, it was time to give it a name and

Murphy fell prey to his dreams that night. He foresaw greatness, a rise so meteoric it awed his closest friends and family. He imagined strangers relishing the dream he wove for them, and how expectant they would be for new releases. Then, he woke up — no readers. It had been a few hours since his novel was posted, but despite the metric showing thousands of surface views, there was not one person who deigned to give it a click. He refreshed, but nothing changed. After breakfast, he refreshed again. Still not one eyeball. ‘Strange…’ He had posted thousands of words, polished after many months of ardor. Surely, among the tens of millions, there would be someone. Anyone… There wasn’t, so he refreshed again. He expected that repetition to somehow dispel the curse, but everyone passed by all the same, sparing his work nary a glance. ‘Why does no one care?’ Even as he asked himself this question, he failed to obtain any insights. Try as he might, he thought it was fine. A w

He was miserable. Despite the sacrifices made in the past few months, little had improved in his outreach. If one thing did change, it was that he stopped refreshing. After a few weeks, he had simply given up on the idea of a miracle, and gloomily avoided analytics entirely. Without his passion driving him, he gradually lost motivation, even though he met up with his quota. Waking up at 6 in the morning, sometimes earlier, he would be a mindless drone throughout the day. When he came back in the evening, he was too exhausted to keep up with ‘the grind’. As his acclaimed peers advised him, he had to strive to post daily, at least a few thousand words. It would be the only way to make it to the top. “Two chapters a day is the minimum if you want to earn,” he remembered seeing at some point. That’s where the seeds of misery sprouted from. Whereas previously he would spend his days daydreaming and skip home with excitement, unable to wait until he could pen his next few words —

The years flew by. Winter chilled his empty wallet. Spring renewed his spirits. Summer kissed his cheeks good luck. Come autumn, he was ready for the promised harvest — and so were QiE-Novel.The world shifted rapidly around Murpheus, and he struggled to catch up with its flow. If 2020 to 2025 could be classed as “The Advent of AI”, then come 2027 — they had already arrived. “Introducing LACIE — Limitless Artificial Creator & Intelligent Editor. The future is right here, on QiE-Novel!”Having just ended a short mourning workout, Murphy logged on to his dashboard and prepared for the daily grind, only to be greeted by a system advert.Curious, he clicked for more details.“Dear creators, we are happy to announce that we’ve partnered with our parent-company to deliver an immense opportunity to you after this Fall’s Soul Contest. “LACIE will be paired up with the top 100 contestants and serve as your personal assistant over the next year, helping you edit your work.“Trained on the va