Air System

You wake up gasping, your lungs burning — and your bank account flashing. Every breath you take is worth money now. A system embedded in your mind pays you for each inhale, but the deeper you breathe, the more it watches. The first payment came before you even opened your eyes. Now, they’re offering bonuses for holding your breath… for *not* breathing. Who profits when oxygen becomes currency? And why do the highest earners never cash out?

Air System

You wake up gasping, your lungs burning — and your bank account flashing. Every breath you take is worth money now. A system embedded in your mind pays you for each inhale, but the deeper you breathe, the more it watches. The first payment came before you even opened your eyes. Now, they’re offering bonuses for holding your breath… for *not* breathing. Who profits when oxygen becomes currency? And why do the highest earners never cash out?

I took my first conscious breath at 6:17 a.m., and the chime echoed inside my skull.

$0.03 credited.

My chest tightened. Not from lack of air—from knowing. They’d said the implant would be painless, automatic. But this was different. This was tracked. I exhaled slowly, watching the counter hover, waiting for another deposit. It didn’t come. Only inhales now. Since when was breathing a transaction?

Then the offer popped up: +$5.00 for holding the next breath for 90 seconds.

My vision blurred at 72. At 80, a face flickered behind my eyelids—mine, but older, screaming. At 89, the door burst open. A woman in a gray respirator mask pointed a syringe at my neck. ‘Stop! They’ll harvest you if you complete it!’

I gasped. The world snapped back. The payment failed.

She stepped forward. ‘You felt them too, didn’t you? The others. The ones who breathe in your sleep.’