“See you tomorrow folks, with another exciting episode as the game continues on Live.”

  The hosts’ voices fade, leaving everyone with flushed faces, eying one another and passing silent judgment. Almost simultaneously, a sharp buzz vibrates from every contestant’s phone. Rebecca glances down at hers. A single message appears:

  "Upload a story to unlock dinner privileges."

  The general response is instant and obedient. Some contestants immediately begin tapping furiously at their phones, their faces illuminated by the screens’ cold light. Others, like Reese, scoff. “Who needs to eat, right?” he mutters to himself. Rebecca thinks bitterly that he probably doesn’t need to upload a story—he’s already done at least twenty of those.

  As the thought crosses her mind, her stomach rumbles loudly. The sudden, embarrassing sound draws several curious glances her way.

  Rebecca’s fingers hover over her phone. The message reeks of manipulation—the very first taste of the game’s insidious control. Dinner is a necessity, yet more than that, it is an opportunity: to watch, to listen, to gather information in a setting that feels looser and less guarded. Refusing, therefore, would mean isolation. Weakness. And still, something about the prompt feels… off. Too simple. Too direct. The timing is too precise, the collective hunger too convenient.

  Something about it rubs her the wrong way. Is it the food they care about, or is there something deeper at play? Perhaps the “story” requirement isn’t about the content itself, but about the data it generates—the insights it feeds to the show’s creators. What are they really after? And what happens if she doesn’t comply?

  Her enhanced flexibility and resilience won’t stop her from starving. The thought of a long night without food, coupled with the ever-present threat of physical fights, clouds her mind.

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  She glances at Reese, who is absorbed in his phone, wearing that calculating look she’s caught on his face a few times. He is already working on his post—no doubt putting together a captivating story wrapped in charm and disarming smiles, intended to draw sympathy and boost his numbers. What angle will he take? A tragic victim? A reluctant hero? Or something more insidious, more strategic.

  Contestant 30, a tall young girl with blonde hair, stops by his side. “Excuse me. Can I upload a story with you? Me and my friends love you.”

  He accepts, of course, flashing a wide grin.

  In a moment of impulsiveness, Rebecca abandons her initial plan for a measured approach and decides to share something of her own. Without fully considering the implications, she screenshots the message from the show producers and posts it to her story, feeling the pressure to act before dinner is served. She regrets it immediately. Does she really want to antagonize the show like this? She definitely has no intention of earning the producers' hate.

  After checking her story, some contestants exchange nervous smiles, their eyes reflecting a mixture of admiration and fear, while others mask their apprehension with expressions of feigned disdain. Rebecca’s hands begin to sweat as she realizes the first consequences of her rash idea—sooner than expected: she has put herself on the map.

  When she checks her story again, five thousand people have already watched it. She rushes to click the little trash can icon in the corner of the screen, but when the pop-up message asks if she’s sure, she hesitates. She scans the words over and over. Then, she presses “Cancel.”

  “Interesting move, 42,” someone murmurs by her ear.

  When Rebecca looks up, a group of contestants passes by her side—all men. Reese among them. Actually, no. He’s walking in front of them, the others following like mindless sheep.

  She checks her story again but blocks the screen almost immediately. It’s done. And, honestly, the producers don’t concern her anymore. Plenty of contestants must have pulled rebellious stunts before; they won’t stress over one insignificant story.

  Besides, something else unsettles her even more—why, why, why does she suddenly feel so proud of it?