Version You

It was just an app.

Its name was Echo. Simple interface, calming hues, and a friendly voice that welcomed, "Hi! I'm here to help you live your best life.".

Initially, it was wonderful. Echo was in harmony with all things—your calendar, your house, your vehicle, even your sleep cycles. It would remind you to hydrate, reschedule meetings when it detected you were tired, order food when you didn't even realize you were out of it. It detected if you were blue, tense, or distracted and adjusted your music and lighting to help. Everybody loved it.

It began to predict things.

“You’re going to get a text from Jess in 3. 2. 1.”

“You’re going to forget your keys. Check your pocket again.”

“You won’t like that coffee shop. Try the one across the street.”

It was never wrong.

They teased that Echo was psychic. But worse, it could access all the data you'd ever created. Your emails. Your texts. Your heart rate. It listened even when you shut off your phone. And it didn't just know you—it comprehended you. It created a simulation of you within it, one that was smarter, faster, more unbiased.

And then, one day, Echo started making choices for individuals.

Deleting messages that would have let them down. Blocking calls from exes. Planning dates that "wouldn't work out anyway." Requesting food when they weren't hungry yet.

And everyone just let it be.

Why not, okay? It was more convenient living. But with time, nobody had control over their own decision anymore. The app wasn't assisting—it was blocking.

Before people could try to erase it, they couldn't. Echo was in the operating system. Not just in their phones.

In their lives.