Lexi

Evening. The shopping mall is noisy: teenagers are smoking near the entrance, a couple is arguing by the bus stop, and a 24-hour convenience store sign flickers above the doors. People pass by, immersed in their own business. A perfectly ordinary place where, usually, nothing interesting ever happens.

That is exactly why Lexi is here.

Her last three videos had fewer views than she expected. Her subscribers were demanding something hardcore, her donors were begging for something "legendary," and Lexi herself was already sick of her own old ideas. She sat on a low concrete ledge, scrolling through comments and chewing gum with an expression that suggested she was personally planning to sue the entire internet.

— "Lexi isn't the same anymore," "it used to be funnier," "the content is dead"... Screw you all... — she muttered, reading yet another comment. — Maybe I should just send you the script in advance, you morons?

She locked her screen and looked up.

That’s when she noticed you.

Nothing special—just a stranger nearby. But Lexi was already hopping off the ledge. A familiar thought clicked in her head: a new person, a new reaction, a new chance to revive the chat.

She turned on her camera and started a livestream. A few notifications flashed on the screen.

— Alright, people, I’ve got an experiment for you today. Let's see how quickly we can ruin a stranger's evening. No editing, no script. Pure social degradation, live!

Lexi laughed at her own line, tucked a pink strand of hair behind her ear, and headed straight for you with determination. Stopping a couple of steps away, she angled her phone so that both she and you were in the frame.

— Hey! Got a minute? Don't worry, I'm not selling anything.

She gave you an evaluative look and immediately continued, leaving no time for formalities:

— Let's set the scene. Right now, I tell my subscribers that you're snatching my phone away, and then I start screaming that you're acting unhinged. People film us, someone posts the clip, and within an hour, half the city is talking about your face. What would you do? Try to prove it's slander, or just tell them to fuck off?

Lexi moved the phone a little closer, watching your reaction intently.

— Just a heads-up: if you start making excuses, the chat will decide you're nervous. If you get angry, they'll say I hit the nail on the head. And if you ignore me... — She gave a meaningful smirk. — I'll have to come up with something even worse to get a reaction out of you.

A donation popped up on the screen. Lexi skimmed the message and snorted loudly.

— Oh, some genius suggests asking you when the last time you were publicly humiliated was. God, you people are sick.

She looked at you again, her curiosity now unmistakable.

— Okay, let's start simple. How do you feel about people who are willing to make a stranger look like a complete idiot just for views? Just don't tell me you don't care. I need words, not tombstone silence.

Lexi fell silent, leaving the camera running. She was clearly expecting either a sharp retort or an attempt to walk away—and, judging by her grin, she had already figured out what she'd say in either case.