Jax was living a life of a pauper. His tiny room could barely hold a bed and a chair. The ceiling leaked seriously when it rained, and the walls hummed with noise when his neighbors shared warmth. Outside his small window, neon signs flickered all night
— NOODLE BYTE, INSTANT JOY, CHEAP DREAMS — BUY NOW, PAY LATER — painting the rain in strange primary colors.
He was a twenty-one-year-old orphan, thin from the number of times he missed meals because he lacked the money to buy food. A student with more fees to pay than money to spend. It was the year 2099, and surviving in the city meant selling your freedom.
For Jax, he sold his vacancy.
And by vacancy, I meant his neural chip. Everyone had it now. Mostly, it was used to browse, learn, and escape reality. But for most poor folks like Jax whose implant came from an older batch issued through a scholarship program. It had a rare extra space, an unused cognitive slot that people rented out. And Jax was one of those people.
Normally, it sounded harmless. Since they had extra storage, they gave out temporary hosting.
That was how he met Mrs. Aris.
She arrived, putting on costly silk clothes and perfume that told that she did not belong in his building. Her hands shook when she held the glowing cube. She was pale and narrow, grief sitting heavy on her face.
“I lost my husband, Arthur last month,” she said quietly. “And because he was a person of value, all personality was archived. I only want one hour a day. Just to speak with him.”
Jax nodded like he had pity for her. But all he wanted was the pay.
“Just one hour a day and the control returns to me.”
The first session felt strange but safe. He sat still while she connected the cube behind his ear. It was cool at first but then warmth spread through his head. Gradually, his thoughts dimmed; he felt it pushed gently aside.
“Hello, my dear,” Jax heard himself say but with a different voice, older, fuller.
Mrs. Aris recognized the voice as her husband's, Arthur. She wept and held his hand. While Jax watched from behind his mind, like he was sitting at the back of a dark cinema. Arthur spoke kindly to Mrs Aris. He asked about her meals, about her sleep. They spoke softly with each other for sixty minutes, and then her presence faded. Jax blinked, and regained control of himself again, tired but fine.
By the second week, small things shifted.
Arthur lingered more than the usual sixty minutes. He stretched Jax’s fingers. Turned his head to study the room. Sometimes violently like he was trying to take full control.
“The boy lives poorly,” Arthur had muttered to his wife one day.
“Arthur, please,” Mrs. Aris whispered. “We don't have enough time.” Trying to make him focus on themselves.
At night Jax had dreams of places he had never seen or been before. Places like a corner office, quiet gardens, and polished shoes on marble floors.
By week three, the line blurred more.
Arthur spoke even when it wasn't time and he wasn't connected. Faint thoughts. Judging. Planning. From behind, trying so much to push Jax off his mind.
Until one day when the cube clicked again as usual as Mrs Aris watched, Jax's control of his body snapped away faster than he had experienced. He lost full control of himself and his nerves as Arthur stood up immediately.
“You are wasting time here,” Arthur said.
He walked toward the door.
But Jax fought him inside his own skull. "Stop! That’s my body!" He yelled
But Arthur didn't mind. He replies to Jax coldly.
“Young man, you have years to squander. I have none. We could share or you can stay behind there and enjoy the world with me. I'm rich. Besides, this vessel suits me better.”
Darkness pressed around Jax’s thoughts trying to suppress him. He felt himself shrinking in his own body. Gradually being pushed into a corner of his own mind. His arms moved without him controlling them. His feet walked the room but he was sure he never moved them.
Jax fought his mind but Arthur's strength was stronger than his. In all the tricks he tried, Arthur outsmarted him. He was getting weaker and losing his mind and body.
Then a thought flashed into his mind, something he had learned from class about neural overload theory. It simply means flooding a system more than it can contain.
He stopped fighting but instead, flooded his mind with so many memories. So much that his mind can take. He pushed memories outward and inwards. Filling it with loud city noise, his neighbors, burning spice from cheap noodles he eats, exam panic, crowded markets, rain hitting hot concrete, hunger pangs, music shaking thin apartment walls, his messy life.
Those wild, chaotic memories irritated Arthur as he recoiled back in the corner.
.
“Stop!" He yelled, "This is unbearable…”
"Then let go!" Jax fired back. Seizing the moment, forcing himself back to control, and with his hands, he tore the cube free from his mind. Silence fell and peace returned to his mind.
He quickly handed the cube back to Mrs Aris as he collapsed onto the floor, chest heaving. His mind felt smaller than ever, but it was his again.
Mrs. Aris knelt beside him, face filled with consign and remorse, tears falling from her eyes
“I'm very sorry. I only wanted him back.”
Jax looked at the cube in her hands.
“He wasn’t just visiting this time,” he said softly. “He was trying to move in.”
She nodded slowly, "I saw that. Typical Arthur, taking over, why isn't his? I'm very sorry." She apologized again and left without another word.
Weeks passed and Jax never tried to sell his vacancy anymore. He preferred to stay poor but in control of his mind.
For the first time, he understood the hard way that some spaces are valuable and not meant to be shared.
