The Nova Zurich seagull swooped down to a landing in front of me, with small metal antennas sticking out of its ears. There is something very strange about that bird, I said to myself. The seagull's camera eye zoomed in on me and began watching.

“Shoo,” I muttered, waving it off. The bird didn’t flinch. The seagull blinked—or at least, the mechanical shutter of its camera eye clicked—and hopped closer. I sighed. Surveillance stuffed inside faux-animal drones. What’s next?

It squawked, if you called that grating, static-like noise a squawk. Bystanders glanced in our direction, but most didn’t bother. I reached down to adjust my boot.

Then it happened. A tiny panel on the seagull's side slid open, revealing a slim compartment. A card fluttered out and landed in front of me.

I bent down and picked it up. The text glowed faintly as I turned the card over in my hand. Printed on the card in blocky, holographic text were three words: “YOU ARE SELECTED.”

“Selected for what?” I said aloud, though I didn’t expect an answer. The seagull didn’t oblige, only squawking again before flapping its silvery wings and taking off. Its ascent was oddly silent, barely audible as it disappeared.

I pocketed the card. Probably just another recruitment stunt. My lunch break was almost over and I had to finish my report on decentralized entropy buffers for Biocryptonics, Inc.

As I walked back toward the office, I noticed a well-dressed woman on a nearby bench. She was watching me, her face partially obscured by a hat. I glanced at her briefly but kept moving.

Behind me, she let slip a quiet laugh, low and deliberate.

For a moment, I hesitated. Then I shook my head and kept walking. Everyone wanted to get your attention these days. Marketing, pranks, data collection—it was always something. Still, the card felt heavier in my pocket than it should.