The Algorithm of Spring

104

Before she could process it, another message arrived.

Then another.

Each came through a secure channel Min-seo had quietly established—a pathway for people touched by the exhibition to reach her directly.

"I work in HarmoniQ's content moderation team. What you showed about algorithmic nudging is real. I've seen the internal dashboards."

"Your visualisation of how the system constrains choices helped me understand why my relationships always feel... cold."

"I feel like I've been living in a maze designed by someone else. Your art showed me the walls for the first time."

Maya sat very still, reading message after message.

These weren't activists or abstract supporters.

These were people. Real lives, newly awakened.

Grappling with the realisation that their most intimate decisions had been shaped by invisible architecture.

Her device rang again—her actual ringtone this time.

Her mother.

"I'm seeing you everywhere," her mother said without greeting. "The news, social media. Are you safe?"

The question caught Maya off guard. Not What were you thinking? or Do you know what you've done?

Just simple concern.

"I'm fine," Maya said, and realised as she said it that it wasn't entirely true. "Just... processing everything."

There was a silence, then:

"Your exhibition. It was beautiful. And terrible. I've never seen anything like it."

"Yes," Maya said softly. "That was the point."

Another pause, heavier this time.

"People are listening, Maya. Not everyone. But enough."

A beat.

"I'm proud of you."

The words hung in the air between them, delicate and unexpected. Maya's throat tightened, making it hard to speak.

"Thank you," she whispered.

When the call ended, Maya returned to her device. The stream of messages hadn't stopped. Each one was a small reckoning—a person stepping outside the system for the first time.

She had wanted to expose HarmoniQ.

But this was more than exposure.

People weren't looking outward.

They were turning inward.

Re-examining their lives, their choices.

And now, they were reaching for her.

The responsibility of it pressed against her ribs like a held breath.

                                                                                        ***

The knock came without warning.

Three sharp raps that sliced through Maya's concentration as she tried to organise the flood of responses her exhibition had generated.

Her coffee mug froze halfway to her lips. Every muscle in her body went still.

No one should know she was here.

Jun-ho and Min-seo would have called first.

She moved silently to the door and checked the peephole.

A woman in a crisp business suit stood in the hallway—professional, but impatient.

Behind her, a man in more casual clothes held a camera.

Media. Somehow, they'd found her.

Maya stepped back without opening the door, her device already buzzing.

Jun-ho.

"There are reporters outside your building," he said without greeting. "At least three networks. Someone leaked your address."

"There's already one at my door," she murmured, keeping her voice low.

"Don't open it. Don't engage. I'm ten minutes out."

The knocking came again, more insistent this time.

"Ms. Kim? Eun-ji Park from Channel Nine News. We'd like to give you an opportunity to respond to HarmoniQ's statements about your installation."

Maya pressed her eye to the peephole, her body going rigid.

The reporter waited, then eventually retreated down the hall with her photographer.

Her hands had started to shake. Not from fear, exactly.

From the realisation that her last sanctuary had been breached.

"They're leaving," she told Jun-ho.

"That won't be the last. Pack a bag—essentials only. I'll text when I'm outside."

Maya moved fast. Clothes. Toiletries. Laptop. Chargers.

The small drive Min-seo had given her. The record of everything the installation had learned.

As she secured the apartment, another message pinged her device.

No sender.

The truth about your installation will be revealed. Consequences cannot be avoided.