The Rating Game

Everyone had a score.

Your friendliness, your politeness, your tone — everything was rated instantly by others through their contact lenses. The average was displayed above your head in soft glowing numbers. The higher your score, the better your life.

High scorers got luxury apartments, faster healthcare, priority flights. Low scorers… well, they disappeared quietly into neighborhoods where the cameras didn’t glow so bright.

Lila had a 4.8 — high enough to be respected, low enough to be replaceable. Every morning she rehearsed her smile in the mirror before stepping outside. “Warm, but not desperate,” she whispered to herself. Then she greeted her neighbors, complimented strangers, and posted cheerful videos online.

Her happiness was perfect — and completely fake.

One afternoon, while waiting in line for coffee, an old man in front of her dropped his wallet. No one helped. His rating was a 1.2 — too risky to associate with.

Lila hesitated. If she helped, others might downvote her for being kind to someone “undesirable.” But something inside her broke. She knelt, picked up his wallet, and smiled — not the polished, practiced one, but a real one.

Her lenses blinked red: –0.5 points.

The next day, her coworkers whispered. Friends avoided her. By evening, she had fallen to 3.7 — dangerously low.

That night, she ripped out her lenses. The pain was sharp, but the silence afterward was freeing. For the first time, she saw people without numbers. Just faces. Imperfect, human faces.

Days turned into weeks. She met others who had done the same — people living without ratings, trading kindness instead of scores. They called themselves the Unseen.

Authorities tried to shut them down, calling them “dangerous to social harmony.” But the movement grew. Videos spread of people laughing, arguing, crying — all without the filter of judgment.

One morning, the global system crashed. Every rating vanished. Panic erupted, then confusion… then something extraordinary.

People started talking again, not to impress, but to connect.

Lila stood in the street, watching the chaos turn into laughter. Someone asked her name.

She smiled — no score appearing above her head — and said,

“I think I just found it.”