What You Need to Do to Meet Expectations Is Surprisingly Simple

My studio apartment — the place I truly owed everything to — and the Data Trash Heap, where I'd worked hard hanging lightbulbs to push back a little of the darkness.

I'd filmed both locations, given the footage a light edit, and uploaded it to my channel. Already, about a day had passed.

And the reaction from the people who'd watched my video… was an absolute, out-of-this-world smash hit.

My vlog had set the internet ablaze hotter than anything I'd posted in the entire past month!

Some people doubted endlessly. Some offered reasoned acceptance. Others simply sat back and marveled.

Even community sites that had nothing to do with me were starting to drop my name here and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠there. Clearly, the scenery I'd shown them in that video had been far more radical than I'd expected.

"Ugh… I really didn't think it would blow up this hard."

Seeing the name Nia floating on every site I opened left me feeling thoroughly dazed.

Of course, when I'd first reappeared before the world under Nia's name, interest had poured down on me like a waterfall too… but back then, plenty of people had watched with deep skepticism, and more than a few had shrugged it off with a so what? and moved on.

This was a different kind of fire entirely — nothing like a month ago.

I'd already settled in as a reasonably well-known independent streamer, someone people in the know actually recognized. With that solid foundation under me, it seemed I'd finally earned enough trust to make people take me seriously.

Yeah. Growing the channel content-first had been worth it. In absolute numbers I was still closer to a small-time streamer than anything else, but still.

"Blow up? Like a fire?"

I'd been hammering away at the keyboard and mouse, checking the state of online opinion, when Noise's voice suddenly cut in from beside me.

I turned my head. There she was in her cute animal pajamas, wearing a drowsy expression, tilting her head at me.

"Ah, Noise. That's a figure of speech. Uh… how do I explain this. Mm… when a lot of people suddenly get interested in one topic, the attention just goes whoosh — spreads out like that, right?"

"Yeah."

"On the internet, people usually call that 'blowing up.' Or 'catching fire.' Because from a distance it kind of looks like a huge wildfire."

"Huh."

She blinked a few times and murmured that, as if she found it fascinating. Whether my explanation had actually landed was hard to say.

I supposed figurative language was still tough for a girl who'd blossomed out of a Virtual Mind. She was strong on the technical, theoretical side of drawing human attention — and uniquely weak on the emotional side. Looking at her, I couldn't help thinking: yeah, she's the pure Virtual Lifeform here, isn't she?

Well, the longer time goes on, the more she seems to get used to feelings. That's a relief, at least.

I watched her fondly — still tilting her head, but with her eyes sparkling like she was enjoying herself — then turned back to the monitor.

Noise being cute was one thing. Work still had to get done. Get too deep into distractions and you'd miss the things that actually needed doing on time.

What I was doing right now was after-action analysis: checking just how far the fallout from my vlog had spread.

Someone might ask why I'd bother with something so tedious. But the moment you touched a sensitive keyword like the virtual world, this kind of work became mandatory.

Attention isn't only a positive force. It can unintentionally amplify the negative side of things, too.

By surveying overall public opinion across the internet communities, I could spot anything that might become a problem… and take steps — like carefully avoiding certain topics going forward.

As long as I was the one making demands of them, it was only natural that I show a willingness to adapt first. What I considered common sense might look like nonsense to those people, so I needed to think ahead and tread carefully on those points.

Still, the good news is… people's opinions are leaning favorable. Most of them don't fully believe there's an Abyss in the virtual world, but still.

I spent a few dozen minutes touring every internet community I could access, finished mapping the mainstream consensus, and crossed my arms with a thoughtful look on my face.

I'd reached a conclusion. People rarely trusted everything I'd said completely — but they were still taking it as a thoroughly entertaining story.

Maybe claims made by a beautiful girl just carried extra persuasive weight. Most people seemed to be thinking something close to: So what if it's fake? Believing it doesn't cost me anything… — a stance that leaned ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠positive more than not.

That's good. If it ever comes out that everything I've said is true — not a single lie — I'll be able to pull the people who were already looking at me favorably even further onto my side.

I rested my chin in my hand for a moment, looking like I was mulling something over, then grabbed the mouse and navigated to my Olive channel to check a particular number.

The first things that greeted me were the various edited videos and view counts that started in the tens of thousands as a baseline.

Yeah. Just looking at those numbers filled me with the same satisfaction as a full meal.

But what I'd come to see wasn't the view counts. It was a certain figure written up near the top of the channel page.

Back around the last game stream, I'd still been in the low fifty-thousands. Now the subscriber count had already broken sixty thousand.

That was a radical growth spurt I simply hadn't seen recently.

"The vlog alone pulled in another seven thousand almost overnight. At this pace… a hundred thousand might not be that far off."

A hundred thousand subscribers. Back in the twenty-first century, on the O-Tube of the world I'd died in, that number had been commemorative — the kind of milestone that earned you a Silver Play Button. But on Olive, the platform I was living off now, it meant something else entirely.

This site has something called Plus Streamer. It's a system that gives verified independent streamers with a hundred thousand subscribers more promotional exposure.

A million subscribers made you a Complete Streamer. Ten million put you in the Hall of Fame. Basically, the more subscribers you had here, the more advantages you unlocked.

Having a lot of subscribers ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠meant you were preferred by a huge number of people — and that you'd been thoroughly vetted. Of course they'd give you more chances to be seen.

So if I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠could properly seize this opportunity, hit a hundred thousand, and become a Plus Streamer… maybe I wouldn't have to stop at a hundred thousand. Maybe I could start hungering for something beyond that.

"Keh… keh heh heh… At this rate, reviving Nia's stream isn't even a dream anymore… Hee hee hee, hihi…"

"Nia, are you sick?"

"Huh? Ah — no! I'm fine. Just clearing my throat. Ahem. Aah~"

…Embarrassing. I'd gotten so deep into the fantasy that I'd completely forgotten Noise was sitting right next to me.

My ears were probably bright red by now. A crushing wave of shame had just stabbed straight through my brain.

Okay. Calm down. Calm down. I'd been carefully image-crafting in front of Noise this whole time, carefully not showing her my pathetic side. I couldn't let a few seconds of daydreaming about the future shatter that cool persona.

I forced the sudden spike of excitement back down, returned to my usual self, and muttered under my breath in a distinctly awkward atmosphere.

"A-ahem! So, maybe I should start thinking about what to do for the next stream. With this vlog, I managed to pull in interest even from people who weren't already viewers, so…"

Well… I was muttering like I was deep in thought, but what I needed to do next was actually extremely simple.

"How about an outdoor stream next?"

Just give people what they were hoping for.

Yes. The method I'd come up with was exactly that — an outdoor broadcast from the Data Trash Heap.