4

The next morning arrives with the soft, mechanical hum of Jaydean's alarm clock. He reaches out, eyes still closed, and taps the snooze button. In the stillness of his room, the world outside is already waking up—he can feel it, the subtle murmur of thoughts gradually growing louder as more people start their day.

Jaydean rolls over, pulling the blanket over his head as if that might block out the noise. But it doesn't. It never does. He can hear his mom downstairs, already up and thinking about the day ahead. His sister is still asleep, her dreams seeping into the Collective—a chaotic mix of unicorns, school, and that game she was playing last night. It's all there, just beneath the surface, waiting for him to tune in.

He sighs, finally resigning himself to the inevitable. Sitting up, he rubs the sleep from his eyes and swings his legs over the side of the bed. The wooden floor is cool against his feet as he stands, stretching out the stiffness from a night of restless sleep.

*Another day,* he thinks, not particularly excited about it. But that's just how it is—school, home, repeat.

After getting dressed, Jaydean heads downstairs, the smell of breakfast greeting him as he enters the kitchen. His mom is at the stove again, this time flipping pancakes with practiced ease. She glances at him over her shoulder, a warm smile on her face.

"Morning, Jay," she says aloud, though her thoughts are already moving on to the grocery list she needs to tackle later.

"Morning," he replies, grabbing a plate from the counter and loading it up with pancakes. He sits at the table, not really focusing on the taste as he eats. It's more about going through the motions, getting ready for another day of the same.

His dad is reading the news on his tablet, his thoughts a mix of headlines and financial figures. Lea finally stumbles into the kitchen, still half-asleep but already thinking about what she'll do after school. The family shares the space, their minds connected in a way that words can't quite replicate. It's both comforting and suffocating at the same time.

After breakfast, Jaydean grabs his bag and heads out the door, pausing briefly as he steps onto the front porch. The morning air is crisp, and the neighborhood is alive with the thoughts of people starting their day. *I'm late,* someone thinks as they rush down the street. *Need to remember to pick up milk,* another thought drifts by, and Jaydean shakes his head, tuning it out as best as he can.

The drive to school is uneventful, just like the day before. He parks in his usual spot, grabs his bag, and heads inside. The halls are already buzzing with activity—students rushing to their lockers, thoughts bouncing off each other in a chaotic blend of excitement, anxiety, and boredom. It's just another day in high school, where everyone knows everything, whether they want to or not.

Jaydean makes his way to his first class, sliding into his seat just as the bell rings. The teacher, Mr. Patterson, starts the lesson without much preamble, his thoughts on autopilot as he goes through the motions of another lecture. Jaydean tries to focus, but his mind keeps wandering—both his own thoughts and those of everyone else around him.

He catches snippets of what his classmates are thinking—Sarah is stressing about a math test later, Michael is planning his weekend, and Jenna is mentally rehearsing what she'll say to ask out her crush. It's all just noise, blending together into a dull hum that makes it hard to concentrate on anything.

At lunch, Jaydean finds himself back in the cafeteria, sitting with his usual group of friends. The conversations are casual, interspersed with shared thoughts that don't need to be spoken aloud. *Did you see the new update on that game?* one friend thinks, and Jaydean nods, even though he hasn't had a chance to check it out yet. *I can lend you my notes for the test,* another thought offers, and Jaydean smiles in thanks.

As they eat, the Collective hums around them, everyone's minds intertwined in a way that's both natural and strange. Jaydean has long since stopped trying to block it out entirely—it's just easier to let it wash over him, like background noise that he's learned to live with.

After school, Jaydean decides to walk home instead of driving. It's a small attempt at breaking the monotony, even if it's just for a short while. The walk gives him time to think—really think, without the constant pressure of school or the responsibilities waiting for him at home.

The neighborhood is quiet, with only a few people out and about. Most of the thoughts he picks up are mundane—someone is planning dinner, another person is thinking about their weekend plans. It's the kind of everyday life that he's come to expect, the rhythm of the Collective that never really changes.

As he nears his house, Jaydean spots Mr. Thompson, his neighbor, tinkering with his car in the driveway. The old man's thoughts are focused on the engine, troubleshooting the issue in his head before even picking up a tool. Jaydean waves, and Mr. Thompson nods in return, his mind barely registering the gesture before returning to his task.

Jaydean finally reaches his front door, pushing it open and stepping inside. The house is quiet, with only the faint sound of his mom in the kitchen and Lea's thoughts drifting down from upstairs. He drops his bag by the door, the familiar weight of the day lifting slightly as he crosses the threshold.

Heading up to his room, Jaydean kicks off his shoes and collapses onto his bed. The Collective is still there, always there, but it's quieter now—a distant hum that he can almost ignore. He stares at the ceiling, his thoughts wandering as he tries to find some sense of peace in the stillness.

It's just another day, like all the others before it. And tomorrow will be the same. But for now, Jaydean lets himself relax, if only for a moment, before the cycle starts all over again.