Chapter 4
Episode 4
Lietuvisku keliu istorija.
The road began where the asphalt forgot itself. I drove east from Vilnius, past the Soviet-era blockhouses that had been retrofitted with shimmering quantum skins—each panel a living screen, displaying personalized ads for things I had only whispered to my nano-water bottle that morning. The bottle sat in the cup holder, its surface flickering with a faint blue light, reminding me that even my thirst was no longer mine alone.
The landscape blurred into a patchwork of birch forests and abandoned collective farms, their silos now repurposed as data relay towers. I had no destination, only a compulsion to move, to feel the road beneath me as something real. The car’s AI whispered route suggestions, but I turned the voice off. I wanted the silence of the old roads, the ones that had carried my grandparents to markets and funerals, long before anyone spoke of duomenu apsauga.
At a crossroads near Ukmergė, I stopped. A wooden shrine stood crooked in the ditch, its roof moss-eaten, a faded photograph of the Virgin Mary inside. Someone had placed a fresh flower there—a real one, not a hologram. I got out and touched the wood. It was warm, as if the memory of prayers still lived inside it. My phone buzzed. A notification: “Your emotional state is elevated. Would you like a calming nano-diffusion?” I ignored it.
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