More math. Fifteen minus twelve is three. If I could manage to get up, find the location in the description, and do the job, I’d be out of debt and have three sol to my name.
Three sol...
Was that a lot or a little?
A little, of course. Enough to pay the daily rent for three out of my four limbs.
That was all the information in the green menus. I closed the menu, got rid of the cursor, and looked at the real world in front of me. Now that the haze of pain was gone, I realized I had been mistaken — it wasn’t just a hallway, it was a street. In fact, the whole place had a very urban atmosphere. The morning rush. People heading off to work by themselves or in groups. There was nothing even hinting at some form of mass transit, but maybe this was a pedestrian street.
Emotions?
Things were pretty bleak. The people around me looked sullen and gloomy, but there were calm faces as well — even a few smiles.
Was it too soon to panic and decide I’d been dragged down to hell?
Yeah, too soon.
I still had a lot of questions, but that motivated me, gave me another reason to stand up and make my awful limbs start working.
I noticed something on the wall across from me.
Different colored lines stretched across the top, each with an arrow and a description. The green arrow on top was labeled Zone 3, and there was no mistaking the direction.
Hmm... what was I supposed to do with my... biowaste? I doubted I’d have to go anytime soon, but it was something worth finding out.
The arrows on the walls answered me. The closest toilet was about fifty yards away.
“El,” I said quietly. El sounded much better.
I lurched and shuffled my right leg forward. Putting all my weight on it, I grasped at the wall for good measure and took another step. Joy bubbled up inside me.
A flashing screen suddenly made me jump in surprise. Well, I didn’t exactly jump — my feet never left the ground. But I definitely flinched. I moved away from the wall and looked over at the large, bright screen. A brief scan of the hallway showed similar screens lighting up all over. People were stopping and staring at the screens with inexplicable tension and expectation. Someone next to me whispered fervently:
“Let it be me. Let it be me. Let it be me.”
The number 11 flashed clearly and distinctly against a background that had probably once been white, but was now faded to an off-color shade of yellow. In slightly smaller letters below it were the words:
“Game Challenge!”
A timer was counting down on the screen — 59 seconds, 58...
The tension broke as the people around me seemed to sway and exhale as one. I heard disappointment, angry words. Someone was cursing my number. And it was definitely my number on the screen. Some kind of game challenge was about to happen, and the system had chosen me to accept it...
Chapter 2
“Game Challenge!”
I STOOD IN FRONT of the screen and studied these two words carefully, unhurriedly, keeping an eye on the countdown timer.
00:17… 00:16…
“What are you waiting for?” Someone behind me shouted. I didn’t turn around.
I kept my eyes on the screen. After a few seconds, I noticed a familiar black square near the bottom. As I reached my right thumb out to touch it, someone pushed me. Hard. I staggered, almost fell. The slow, languid laughter from the audience made it clear this happened on a regular basis.
