Maria Hernandez
Maria Hernandez pulled the elastic band from her hair, letting her dark, wavy strands fall loose as she stepped into her modest apartment. She tossed her white coat over a chair, the weight of the day finally lifting but not entirely gone. At twenty-nine, Maria carried herself with a quiet confidence that came from years of pushing herself to the limits. Her caramel-toned skin still held the glow of someone who spent her childhood outside in the California sun, her features a perfect blend of the beauty passed down from her parents. High cheekbones framed her face, and her large, almond-shaped brown eyes were the kind that seemed to hold the entire story of her relentless journey—a mix of exhaustion, ambition, and pride. She always wore just a touch of makeup, nothing more than eyeliner and a neutral lip balm, her look as understated as her personality.
Standing at 5'6", Maria had the kind of figure that spoke of discipline and practicality rather than vanity. Her hands, steady and capable, bore the faint marks of long hours spent holding surgical tools or flipping through textbooks. Her fingers were adorned with nothing but practicality—a watch she had bought herself as a graduation gift and a simple bracelet her mother had given her for good luck when she started her residency. Her body was lean, not from obsessive exercise but from years of moving with purpose, standing for hours on end in operating rooms, and skipping meals when the work got too intense. She wasn't one to fuss over her appearance, but her natural beauty often caught others off guard, hidden beneath her professional exterior.
Maria's upbringing had shaped her into someone who balanced resilience with humility. Her style reflected that balance: simple but well-kept. Today, she wore dark slacks and a light blouse under her coat, paired with comfortable shoes that had seen her through countless hospital shifts. Her wardrobe was practical, not flashy, though her friends often teased her about how effortlessly put-together she looked, even in scrubs.
Her heritage was unmistakable. Her thick, dark lashes and the natural curve of her brows spoke of her Mexican roots, as did the faint lilt of her voice, which softened certain English words in a way she hadn't entirely shed, despite growing up in the States. Maria had long stopped trying to hide it, realizing that her identity wasn't something to be ironed out but embraced. Her parents' story was woven into the way she carried herself: determined, proud, but never boastful.
Her apartment was small but tidy, a reflection of her organized mind. A bookshelf in the corner was crammed with medical textbooks, notebooks filled with handwritten annotations, and a few worn copies of novels she read when she could steal the time. A framed picture of her family sat on her desk—her father's strong, weathered hands on her mother's shoulders, her younger brother Diego in his military uniform, standing tall and proud. Maria was there too, standing next to them in her graduation cap, holding her diploma. The photograph was a constant reminder of where she came from and why she had worked so hard.
Maria sank onto her couch with a sigh, the weight of the day finally melting away as she stretched her legs and propped her feet up on the coffee table. She reached for her phone, deciding it was time to unwind for the first time in what felt like years. Her to-do list was finally clear, and for once, she had no pagers, no alarms, no endless rounds or patient charts hanging over her head. This moment belonged to her, and she intended to enjoy it.
She opened UConnect, the app her friends had been pestering her to download for what seemed like forever. For years, she'd waved them off, too busy juggling her residency, exams, and the relentless demands of med school to bother with yet another app. But now that she finally had it, she had to admit—they were right. The interface was sleek, intuitive, and addictive in a way that felt almost dangerous. The notifications were neatly categorized, the integrated search bar seemed to know what she wanted before she did, and the trending metrics were a weirdly fascinating peek into what the world cared about in real-time. It was everything she hadn't known she needed—and exactly what her overworked brain craved.
With a small smile, she started typing a message to her friends, letting them know she was in for tonight's plans. After years of grinding it out in school and the hospital, she deserved this—a night to finally let loose, laugh, and just exist outside the persona of "Doctor Hernandez." But before she could finish typing, her phone froze mid-message. The screen went completely unresponsive, the keyboard locked in place.
Maria frowned, tapping at it with quick, irritated jabs. Nothing. "Seriously?" she muttered, holding the power button down in frustration. It wasn't just the phone, though. Her laptop had acted up earlier this morning, crashing out of nowhere while she was updating her credentials online.
Her irritation shifted into unease when the lights in her apartment began flickering. The soft glow of the lamp in the corner dimmed and surged erratically, casting strange shadows on the walls. The overhead bulb buzzed faintly, as if it were straining to stay lit, then everything steadied. Just as suddenly as the glitch had started, it stopped. Her phone buzzed back to life in her hand, its screen bright and responsive again. It was as if nothing had happened.
Maria sat still, staring at the device as a small chill worked its way up her spine. That had been… odd. Shaking off her unease, she decided to do what everyone in the digital age did in moments like this: consult the internet. She opened UNet, UConnect's integrated search engine, and typed out a quick query: Why does my phone keep freezing?
The results loaded instantly, but her eyes snagged on something at the top of the page. A banner displayed the trending searches of the moment, and her query had shot to sixth place.
Sixth place—in the world.
Maria blinked, her fingers hovering over her screen. "Wait… the world?" she murmured to herself. That couldn't be right. She clicked on the banner to double-check, but there it was, clear as day. Her little question about her glitching phone was one of the most-searched topics on the planet right now. She leaned back against the couch, her mind working through the possibilities. Did this mean other people were experiencing the same issue? Was it some kind of tech bug, or was it more widespread than that?
Her thoughts drifted for a moment, the pieces not quite fitting together. The logical side of her, honed by years of medical training, told her it was a coincidence. A random tech hiccup amplified by algorithms. But another part of her, the part that had always loved a good mystery, wasn't so sure.
Her phone buzzed again, breaking her train of thought. This time it was a text from her friend: Meet us downtown. Time to celebrate, doctor! Don't make us wait forever.
Maria smiled despite herself, shaking her head. Whatever was going on, it could wait. Tonight wasn't about overthinking or letting paranoia take root. It was about celebration—about finally letting herself be something other than a doctor. She'd earned this, damn it, and she wasn't going to let a weird glitch or flickering lights ruin it.
She grabbed her jacket and slung it over her shoulder, shoving her phone into her pocket. The strange events of the day lingered in the back of her mind, but they could wait. Right now, she was heading out to blow off some steam and reconnect with the world outside of hospitals and exams.
As she locked her door behind her, Maria thought, half-jokingly, that maybe she'd ask her friends what they thought about the glitch—over drinks, of course. After all, life had been a little too predictable lately, and maybe, just maybe, something strange was exactly what she needed to shake things up.