The days blurred together. Andro learned quickly that the world in 2017 ran on speed—information, conversations, even love. Everything was fast, temporary, disposable. People didn’t build relationships anymore; they built profiles. They didn’t write letters; they sent short texts, full of emojis and abbreviations.

  He tried to fit in, but it felt like walking in a world made of glass, where every step he took was hollow.

  It started with his attempt to use a smartphone. One of the young people at the café, noticing his confusion, handed him her device. “Here,” she said, “I’ll teach you how to use Instagram.”

  He stared at the screen, bewildered by the icons and notifications. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what any of this means.”

  She laughed. “You’re like a walking time capsule, aren’t you? Don’t worry, everyone’s on here.”

  “Everyone?” Andro asked, trying to grasp the word. “So... how do you meet people?”

  “Oh, you don’t meet people like before,” she replied nonchalantly. “You just DM them. You know, direct message? You’ll see, it’s way easier.”

  Andro nodded, unsure. The idea of connecting with someone through messages felt... impersonal. Wasn't there something special about talking face-to-face, about hearing the tone of a person’s voice, about reading their eyes?

  But now, people looked at their phones instead of each other’s faces. The human connection had been reduced to pixels and algorithms.

  Later, while scrolling through his phone, Andro found an article titled: “How to Avoid Being Emotionally Available”. He skimmed through the words: “emotional unavailability is a survival skill,” “keep your feelings to yourself,” “don’t let anyone get too close.”

  It didn’t make sense to him. What happened to honesty, vulnerability, and showing kindness, even when it hurt? Why was it considered weak to care, to listen, to show emotion? In the world he grew up in, men were strong because they cared deeply.

  But here, those who cared were laughed at.

  He came across a video titled "How to Ghost Someone and Stay Happy". A term he had never heard before. Ghosting. The video, filled with upbeat music, instructed the viewer to “cut them off completely, don’t give any explanation, don’t answer calls, don’t even send a text. It’s the best way to get rid of someone without getting emotionally involved.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  His stomach turned. Ghosting? What happened to communication? What happened to confrontation, to sitting down and talking things through? Was that a lost art?

  Andro couldn’t help but wonder: Was there a place for kindness in this world? Or had the world moved so far away from it that only the people who played the game of emotional detachment succeeded?

  He took his phone and placed it on the table in front of him. The screen lit up with notifications. He glanced at them and then closed his eyes.

  He remembered his father’s words: "Be gentle, be kind, because in a world that’s losing its warmth, kindness is the only thing that will make you strong."

  But now... kindness seemed to be the very thing that made him weak.

  Later that evening, Andro sat at the church, once again seeking solace in the dim quiet. His fingers traced the worn edges of the hymnal.

  “Lord,” he whispered, “I don’t understand. Why is the world so cold? Why has it become this way? Where did love go? Why is kindness a burden instead of a blessing?”

  The quiet church offered no answers. Only the soft hum of the city outside. People had become strangers, distant figures moving in and out of his life, their faces barely registered as they passed by.

  Andro couldn’t shake the feeling that he was in the wrong time, the wrong world. He didn’t belong here. His values, his beliefs, his very soul felt misplaced in this era.

  The digital world, with its constant notifications and shallow exchanges, felt like a vacuum. People kept busy but never stopped. They posted selfies, but never shared their hearts. They loved, but only for the time it took to snap a picture and get the approval of others.

  The next day, as he walked through a busy street, a couple brushed past him. The man was holding the woman’s hand, but his eyes were glued to his phone. The woman, too, was distracted by her own screen. They didn’t speak, didn’t exchange a glance.

  Andro watched them for a moment, and a thought crossed his mind: What if we’re all just ghosts, walking around, too afraid to really see each other?

  He stopped at a café to collect his thoughts. A group of teenagers sat nearby, arguing about the latest influencer drama. Their voices were loud, their opinions stronger than their actual understanding of the situation. They shared everything, yet knew nothing about the people they were talking about.

  “Why does everything feel so empty?” Andro asked himself. He pulled out his cassette player and pressed play, letting the soft melodies of an old song fill the space around him.

  It was a reminder—perhaps a cruel one—that the world he knew was no longer here. The one thing that felt real to him was the music, the familiar songs from his past. They held the key to who he was, to what mattered.

  He closed his eyes. Maybe this is the challenge I’ve been given. To remain kind, to remain pure, in a world that’s forgotten what those things mean.

  But the road ahead would not be easy. Every day, he was confronted with reminders of how different he was. The digital world was unforgiving. It wasn’t just a time gap—it was a complete transformation of everything he knew.

  And yet, somehow, he couldn’t let go of the belief that kindness still had a place in this world. He refused to believe it was too late for humanity. That belief was his anchor. It was the only thing that made sense in a world that had grown too cold to understand the warmth he had to offer.