It was Tuesday morning, or so I thought, and I couldn''t sense my Macro''s internal chronometer. Developed centuries ago, they coined it the Macro, which is shorthand for the ''Macro Chip Device.'' Embedded in all of us, universal, virtual, and shareable, the device executes instructions and controls our worldly interactions. With our minds free of physical labor, we can think and create at will.


    Yet, I woke up to find that I was disconnected from my Macro world.


    I ran diagnostics which showed me plugged into the virtual plane and that I also occupied the physical world.


    A definite glitch, it made no sense, I thought.


    After many painful tests, I concluded that I was the real me in the real world, and, strangely enough, it felt cold and empty.


    ————


    I sought out my girlfriend, Linda.


    The first time we met face to face was during the most recent Reset.


    Every five years, the Reset takes us offline for a while. It allows us to repair what''s broken, modify our mundane routines, and keeps us sane by wiping our Macro memories, which eliminates existential angst. More importantly, it also clears our minds of undesirable worldly interactions.


    Thankfully, the Reset encouraged us to continue our Macro relationship.


    ————


    I entered Linda''s home and found her body lying on the couch.


    They once claimed that “Humans make the most agile robots.” So we turned our bodies into machines.


    Her body performed the regular pre-programmed movements because of the Macro; It took care of her daily tasks and learned to adapt.


    Meanwhile, a lucid dream enveloped her mind. She thought, created, and did whatever her imagination wanted without limits.


    ————


    It became dark outside, so I slept at her place.


    I awoke to strange noises nearby. In the darkness, I saw Linda''s body behaving awkwardly—picking things up, manipulating some, while dropping others—as if it were performing a dexterity test.


    Her body stopped abruptly and approached the door.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    I wasn''t sure why she was leaving her house at night. It wasn''t typical for a Macro routine. In fact, it violated curfew and safety protocols.


    With that in mind, I decided to follow her.


    ————


    She entered a strange building. Upon entering a laboratory full of equipment, she proceeded to open a safe by using a gadget I''d never seen before.


    “No, Linda. Stop!” I tried yelling at her, but she couldn''t hear me.


    “Linda, I can''t believe you''re a thief!” Of course, she didn''t react.


    I simply gave up and walked home, leaving Linda behind.


    ————


    I saw a bright light in the distance.


    As I walked closer to it, I heard a hushed conversation. I saw two men from afar standing under a spotlight dragging a large duffel bag. Each of them grabbed an end, then tossed it into a dumpster. They lit up their cigarettes, and one of them mentioned something about a long night. After some time, they crushed their cigarette butts, shut the light, and went into a building.


    I hid around a corner until there was silence.


    I walked up to the lamp and turned it on. Inside the dumpster, I saw a pile of duffel bags and was immediately struck by the putrid, rotten meat smell they emitted. I frantically turned the light off.


    While I wanted to escape, I couldn''t help wanting to know more.


    I peeked around the corner of the building.


    Rows of people lined the sidewalk like mannequins, eerily motionless.


    A siren blared, and their legs moved. One by one, their stiff bodies entered the building as though they were being pulled in by an assembly line.


    I recalled the duffel bags, and that''s when it dawned on me—the unspeakable.


    ————


    At home, I fell asleep in my bedroom closet, dreaming of reawakening in my Macro bliss.


    ————


    The next morning, I returned to Linda''s home.


    I blocked every doorway and proceeded to hack into Linda''s Macro login. After successfully gaining access to Linda’s login, I issued a series of commands. It sat her down and disconnected her.


    “Linda, are you okay?”


    Her lips trembled. “Wait, what-what''s happening? Why am I here? I''m cold, and it''s so empty here.”


    “Cold? What do you mean? It''s warm, Linda, and there''s furniture all around us.”


    She rocked back and forth. “No. Nooo. There''s cold and darkness. I''m so alone.”


    Her eyes stared upward. “It was like riding a rainbow. Oh, it was so beautiful, and the light, so gentle and warm like a cozy embrace. It loved me. It truly did.”


    I snapped my fingers. “Linda! Wake up! That was just a Macro trance. You''re here now with me in the real world.”


    She covered her face with her hands and shouted, “No, take me back! This is awful! This is a cold and empty place.”


    I gently pulled her hands back. “Linda, look at me. Your Macro has been hacked. It made you do weird things. I caught your body stealing. And I saw something horrific: people assembled in lines to be processed. They were in a Macro trance, but not of their own programming.”


    She patted me on the cheek and said softly, “Oh, dear. Your Macro must be broken and making you see things.”


    “Linda, I''m here, you''re here, and we''re both here in the flesh.”


    She frowned. “No! This isn''t real. This is cold and empty. We''re in limbo. We''re not awake! What did you do to me?”


    “No, Linda, this is the real world, don''t you see? I''m offline, and so are you. I can''t rejoin the Macro. I experienced the same emptiness before I realized what happened.”


    She cried and sobbed. “No, this is a lie! This is a nightmare. It can''t be real!”


    Fearing she''d have a mental breakdown, I reconnected her Macro.


    ————


    Years later, I anticipated the next Reset.


    I haven''t gone outside except to stock up on resources. I''ve seen bodies behaving in horrific and indescribable ways. I wonder if Linda was right about our real-world becoming a cold and empty place.