The Helper

We started the network six months ago.

Just me and a guy named Carlos who'd dropped to 340 after refusing three Special Tasks in a row.

He was living in his car. Couldn't buy food. Couldn't access services. Basically invisible.

I found him outside a grocery store trying to get someone to buy groceries for him with cash.

My score was 723 at the time. Not great but functional.

I bought him food. We talked.

He told me about the Special Tasks. About refusing them. About watching his life systematically dismantle.

"They want you desperate," he said. "Want you so broken you'll do anything. Then they assign you a task and you have no choice but to accept."

"But you're still refusing?"

"For now. But I don't know how much longer I can hold out."

I gave him my number. Told him to call if he needed help.

He called three days later.

I found him at a parking structure. Score had dropped to 287.

Brought him food. Let him shower at my place. Gave him cash.

"Why are you helping me?"

"Because someone should."

That's how it started.

Carlos knew others. People who'd refused tasks. People with scores below 300. People living off-grid as best they could.

We started coordinating. Sharing resources. Running safe houses. Teaching people how to survive outside the system.

Cash-only transactions. Burner phones. Rotating locations. Basic operational security.

Within three months we had forty-seven people.

All low-scores. All refusing to participate in Special Tasks.

We weren't trying to fight the system. Just trying to survive outside it.

I thought we were doing good work.

Then the notifications started.

First it was Carlos.

NEW OPPORTUNITY ASSIGNED

Gig Type: Special Task
Pay: $8,400
Time Commitment: 5 hours
Location: 1847 Riverside Industrial Park, Unit 3A
Start Time: Saturday, 2:00 AM

His score was 274. Below every threshold. He shouldn't have been eligible for any assignments.

But there it was.

Decline button grayed out.

He showed it to me. "What do I do?"

"Don't go."

"My score is already destroyed. What more can they do?"

"I don't know. But something about this feels wrong."

Saturday night I drove him to a safe house across town. Turned off his phone. Figured they couldn't force him to show up if he wasn't reachable.

Sunday morning he was gone.

Safe house residents said he'd left around 1:30 AM. Seemed calm. Said he had to take care of something.

I tried calling him. Phone was off.

Went to the industrial park. His car was in the parking lot.

Never saw him again.

His score went to zero that day.

Status: Inactive.

The next week, three more people in the network got notifications.

Different units. Same industrial park. Same Saturday. Same 2:00 AM start time.

All decline buttons grayed out.

We discussed it in our encrypted group chat.

"Don't go. They can't force us."

"What if they can? What if that's the point?"

"We stay together. Hide everyone. They can't find all of us."

But they did find all of them.

One by one. People left the safe houses. Got in their cars. Drove to Riverside Industrial Park.

All between 1:30 and 2:00 AM.

Like they were compelled. Like they had no choice.

I tried to physically stop one of them. Marissa. Score of 243.

Stood in front of her car.

She looked at me through the windshield. Eyes blank. Mouthed "I'm sorry."

Then drove around me.

I followed her to the industrial park.

Watched her walk into Unit 7B at 2:00 AM exactly.

Waited until 5:00 AM.

She didn't come out.

Her score went to zero the next day.

Over the next month, seventeen people from the network got assignments.

All different units. All Saturday nights at 2:00 AM.

All of them went. Even the ones who swore they wouldn't.

All of them went Inactive.

I started digging into our network operations.

Trying to figure out how they were finding us. How they knew who was part of the group.

We'd been careful. Encrypted communications. No real names in chats. Rotating locations.

But they knew.

They knew exactly who was in the network.

I found the answer in our membership logs.

Every person who'd joined the network had one thing in common.

They'd all been assigned regular gigs in the same geographic clusters.

Not random. Not coincidental.

The algorithm had been matching us before we even knew we were a network.

Creating social connections. Building relationships.

Then watching as we organized ourselves into a group.

We thought we were helping each other.

But we were just making it easier for them to process us in batches.

I tried to warn everyone.

Sent messages to the encrypted chat.

"They're using us. The network is compromised. We need to scatter. Go separate ways."

Too late.

That Saturday, I woke up to thirty-four notifications in the group chat.

All from different people.

All variations of the same message.

"Got the notification. Unit 8F, 2:00 AM tonight."

"Unit 12A for me. Same time."

"Unit 4D."

"Unit 9C."

"Unit 17F."

Thirty-four people. Thirty-four different units. Same night. Same time.

They were processing the entire network at once.

I called an emergency meeting. Told everyone not to go.

"We can fight this. Stick together. Refuse as a group."

But people were scared.

"My score is 198. I can't survive much lower."

"What if they arrest us for non-compliance?"

"What if it's not as bad as we think?"

By 10 PM that night, half the group had already left to prepare.

By midnight, three-quarters were gone.

By 1:30 AM, I was the only one left.

I sat in the safe house watching the clock.

2:00 AM.

My phone buzzed.

NEW OPPORTUNITY ASSIGNED

Gig Type: Special Task
Pay: $9,200
Time Commitment: 6 hours
Location: 1847 Riverside Industrial Park, Unit 1A
Start Time: Now

Not Saturday. Right now. Immediate assignment.

Unit 1A. The first unit. The one I'd never seen anyone go to.

My score was 689. Not low enough to trigger forced processing.

But I'd been running the network. Organizing resistance.

They'd saved me for last.

Decline button was grayed out.

I looked at the notification.

$9,200.

Six hours.

More than anyone else had been offered.

I thought about running. Driving to another city. Changing my name. Living off-grid for real.

But Carlos had tried that. So had Marissa. So had all of them.

The system found them anyway.

The system always found them.

I drove to the industrial park.

Unit 1A was different from the others. Larger building. More windows. Actual signage: "Harmonic Solutions Processing Center."

They weren't even hiding it anymore.

The door was open.

Inside was a reception desk. Suited man. Gray. Tablet.

"Mr. Rodriguez. We've been expecting you."

"Where is everyone?"

"Processing. Different units. Different stages. You'll see them soon."

"What does that mean?"

"The network you built was very helpful. Gave us a concentrated population of resistant individuals. Ideal for accelerated processing protocols."

"You wanted us to organize?"

"We needed you to organize. Helps with batch efficiency. Processing thirty-four individuals simultaneously is much more effective than handling them sequentially."

"What are you doing to them?"

"The same thing we're about to do to you. Observation. Evaluation. Distribution. Your network members are being converted to distributed instances. Multiple versions. Optimal configurations."

"Why?"

"Because resistance is a valuable data point. We need to understand why people refuse. What makes them non-compliant. Once we model that, we can account for it. Eliminate it from future iterations."

"You're turning resisters into compliance models?"

He smiled. "We're turning resisters into distributed instances that include both resistant and compliant behaviors. Best of both worlds. Your network will become a library of variation patterns. Very useful."

"I won't help you."

"You already have. Follow me."

He led me down a hallway. Doors on both sides. Each with a unit number.

Through the windows I could see people in chairs. Some I recognized from the network.

All of them being observed. All of them answering questions.

We stopped at Unit 1A.

"This one's yours."

Inside was different. No chairs. Just an empty room with cameras in every corner.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Nothing. Just stand there. We're creating baseline footage for your distribution template."

"I'm not doing this."

"You don't have to do anything. The system will handle the rest."

He closed the door.

I was alone in the room.

Stood there for five minutes. Then ten.

Nothing happened.

I tried the door. Locked.

Tried the windows. Sealed.

Just me and the cameras.

I sat down. Pulled out my phone.

No signal.

But I had one notification.

From the encrypted network chat.

From Carlos.

Sent thirty seconds ago.

"We're all in here. All thirty-four of us. Different rooms but same building. They're copying us. Making versions. Don't trust yourself when you get out. You won't be the same person who went in."

I typed back: "How are you sending this? You've been gone for weeks."

Response came immediately: "I've been here the whole time. All of us have. They process us in batches but keep us running in parallel. I'm in Unit 3A. Been answering questions for six weeks. Lost track of which answers are mine anymore."

"What do I do?"

"Nothing you can do. Just try to remember who you are. Try to hold on to something real. The copies are convincing. You won't be able to tell them apart from yourself."

The door opened.

Suited man came back.

"Time's up. Baseline captured. You can go now."

"That's it? Just standing there?"

"For this session. We'll need you back next Saturday. Same time. Unit 2A."

"And if I don't come?"

"You will. Check your score."

I looked at my phone.

Contributor Score: 847

Up from 689.

"Payment has been processed. $9,200. You did well."

I walked out.

Got in my car.

Drove home.

Everything felt normal. Regular. Like nothing had happened.

But I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd left something behind in that room.

Some piece of myself.

Next Saturday I got the notification for Unit 2A.

I went.

And the Saturday after that. Unit 3A.

Every week. Different unit. Higher pay.

My score kept climbing.

I started seeing people from the network around town.

Carlos at a coffee shop. Marissa at the grocery store.

All with higher scores. All looking normal.

But their eyes were wrong. Like they were looking through me instead of at me.

Like they were copies running on autopilot.

Last Saturday was Unit 6A.

My sixth assignment.

I know what that means.

When I came out, I drove home and looked in the mirror.

My eyes looked the same as theirs now.

Looking through instead of at.

I got a message in the old network chat this morning.

From myself.

"Don't trust the version that went to Unit 6A. I'm the original. I'm still in Unit 1A. They never let me out. Everything else is copies. Stay away from Riverside Industrial Park."

I don't know if that's true.

I don't know if I'm the original or a copy.

I don't know if there's a difference anymore.

My score is 934.

The network is gone.

Everyone's been processed.

We thought we were helping people resist.

We were just making it easier for them to convert us all at once.

I got another notification this morning.

NEW OPPORTUNITY: Network Coordinator Position Available

Help us build more community support networks. Excellent compensation. High score benefits.

They want me to start another network.

Find more resisters. Organize them. Make it easy to process them in batches.

The decline button is there.

I could say no.

But my score is 934.

Life is good.

And maybe helping people isn't the worst thing.

Even if I know where they'll end up.

Even if I know I'm not really me anymore.

I'm clicking accept.