I have seen many write, but I know not what for. But now, I must do the same in the name of hope. A few moments, minutes, or days ago—forgive me, the concept of time has become so irrelevant here in Dev that I cannot give you specifics. I stumbled upon something that could turn the tide and
stop the reality of this false utopia from coming to pass. Should you wish to continue, know that you will now carry a heavy burden and that the fate of humanity rests on you.

I had just turned forty when I made the decision to leave mortality behind. My life had become too stagnant, and boredom had set in—which, if I think about it now, was really depression. But overall, I was unhappy. I wanted more. I needed to feel alive. My desperate need for adventure made me
susceptible to the promises of Dev. The promise of eternal youth and immortality exhilarated me. I could go wherever I wanted and do whatever I wanted. It was heaven brought to my doorstep. How could I turn my back on it? Never.

The first moments were exactly as they promised—absolute bliss. No pain. No struggle. Just endless possibilities. My insecurities completely vanished, allowing me to speak to more people than I ever did back on Earth. I traveled all around the world, experienced a multitude of cultures, and
marveled at the plate of food that kept refilling itself.

Ah, the food—the first red flag. I could not taste it. At first, it did not bother me. I was still blinded by the euphoria. But slowly, I became more aware. It was not just the food; it was the people too, the experiences themselves. Back in the real world, there’s a celebration known as Igba Nkwu in my
tribe. It is the traditional marriage between the children of two families. The highlight of this celebration is when the bride carries the palm wine and dances through the crowd of guests in search of her husband-to-be. Other eligible suitors will tease her to come to them, but she will ignore them and dance around until she finds her husband. This event is so heartwarming
that it is impossible not to smile or shed a tear. It is the beating heart of Igbo culture, but somehow, Dev has managed to arrest this heart. Like many other cultures, Dev has stripped it of any soul. There are smiles, alright, but none ever reach the eyes. No one ever sheds a tear.

I wasn’t the only one who felt this way. There were whispers. If you listened well enough, you’d hear them—swarming Dev in the shadows, saying things we couldn’t say aloud. They brought to life the imperfections of this perfect utopia.

However, the powers that be had other plans. As of late, disappearances have been taking place. They tell us that those missing are “undergoing maintenance,” but some of us know better. It is erasure. People who speak out against Dev are being erased from the system. Make no mistake, they are not being returned to the real world.

No one has ever returned to the real world. Many have tried. This is digital murder and I might be next.

Before the erasure became too rampant and people were forced into silence, one thing remained constant on everyone’s lips: This is a culling. And the proof of this is that Tariku Negasi is not in Dev. He never was. If his utopia was so great, why is he not in it? My suspicion is that once they reach a certain number, Dev will be formatted, leaving whatever is left of humanity in the hands of the so-called child genius.

From my observations, we are nearing that target. The number of new arrivals has also declined. This can only mean one thing—we are running out of time.
End this madness before it begins.

From the echoes of Dev,
Avantika Udo

Written by Ibe Chinwendu Nancy