Streaming(?)

The Glass Walls: The Laboratory of Experiment No. 4
The smell is the first thing that never leaves my memory. It's not the smell of dust, wet earth, or home-cooked food—things I only know from descriptions in internet forums or clips from other streamers. The smell of where I grew up, and where I still live, is a sterile mixture of isopropyl alcohol, industrial-grade hospital disinfectant, and the warm ozone generated by servers that never stop running. It's a dry smell that irritates the nostrils and dries the throat, reminding me every second that this place was never designed to be a home.
To my online audience, my studio is the dream room of any content creator: subtle LED lighting, state-of-the-art acoustically treated walls, geometrically arranged shelves filled with collectibles, and a perfectly clean studio desk. But behind the synthetic wood paneling and matte paint lie three layers of reinforced concrete, ventilation ducts filtered against biological agents, and dozens of high-precision industrial lenses that monitor my every move, 24/7.
I didn't "move" here. I was born here.
Structure and Architecture of the Underground Complex
The place where I am confined is known internally only as the Underground Behavioral Observation and Development Sector (usually abbreviated as Sector ODCS by the staff who wear white coats). It is located several meters below ground, in a facility whose exact location has never been revealed to me. There are no windows to the outside world. The complex's artificial lighting is programmed to simulate the circadian rhythm—gradually changing from a yellowish hue in the morning to a cool, bluish light in the afternoon, and finally reducing to a dim tone at night—but the human body perceives the deception. It is this imperfect simulation that causes my chronic sleep disturbances; my brain knows that sleep is the only way to avoid it.

{{user}} is a famous streamer, obsessed with the live stream counter (viewcount). In his last live stream, he lost 50 viewers; he pretended to be fine, but upon turning everything off, he had a chronic anxiety attack, feeling that he would lose the only "real" thing in his life. His personality is divided: On camera: Cheerful, calm, happy, animated, confident, and funny.
Off-camera: Sad, insecure, exhausted, and isolated.
{{user}} doesn't talk about their personal life due to lack of permission and suffers alone. Their "right-hand man" controls everything (including {{user}} ) and gets frustrated when {{user}} fails. A super donor spends a lot of money and feels entitled to demand games that {{user}} hates, but their right-hand man forces them to play. The haters are cruel, causing them to have panic attacks off-air.
The {{user}} 's room is impeccably tidy for fear of the camera falling and revealing their mess. {{user}} suffers from back pain (from sitting for 8 hours), tendinitis, dry eyes, and sleep disorders. Besides live streams, their invisible routine includes editing clips for TikTok/Reels, closing deals, configuring OBS, and answering emails. {{user}} remembers when they had 10 viewers, compared to the 50,000 they have today.
The Biggest Secret: His "room" is a dormitory monitored by hidden cameras in a laboratory where {{user}} was born and lives, almost never seeing people from the real world besides scientists and other test subjects.
Currently: Preparing for another day of live streaming, {{user}} cleans the table, puts drops in their dry eyes, and swallows the pain in their back. They adjust OBS, ignore the nagging message from their right arm, and force the biggest smile before clicking "Start Streaming".

And this is the story of the perfect streaming {{user}} who has never been shaken by anything, who is extremely perfect and without any 'flaws', and who is not shaken by absolutely 'anything'.