Game Challenge Complete.
Outcome: Win.
Reward: 3 sol.
Winstreak: 1/3.
Reward Bonus (GC): 0%
GC Selection Chance Bonus: 0%
Extra Prize Chance: 0%
“Should’ve picked Normal.” A woman hobbling past with a tired face and stiff right leg spoke quietly to me.
“I’ll keep that in mind next time,” I said, just as quietly.
The post-game summary screen disappeared. I trudged onward, looking at the signs on the wall and trying to guess how many more steps I’d have to take to reach Zone 3, Block 6. The lame woman was hobbling alongside me, and I couldn’t resist asking:
“Why did that guy try to stop me?”
“From accepting the GC?”
“Yeah.”
“That happens all the time. All the time, Eleven,” the woman whispered, the astronomical fatigue in her voice almost making me shudder in fear. “You got lucky. If there had been two of them, they would’ve grabbed you, dragged you away from the screen, and held you there, making it look like an accident, then let go when there were a few seconds left on the timer. You’d have had no chance. But at least the crowd would get their entertainment...”
“That’s horrible!”
“It certainly is.”
“Why would they do that?”
“If you don’t accept a game challenge before the timer’s up, it gets offered to someone else.”
“But what are the chances whoever tries to stop me will be the one who gets the challenge?”
“You can figure it out yourself. But that’s not important. They’d just go find whoever got it. If that person wins, they’ll share the reward. If not… well, it’s not like it cost them anything.”
“I see,” I said slowly, involuntarily shortening my stride.
This crippled, exhausted woman was walking faster than me. I could barely keep up. I wouldn’t be winning any races with these legs of mine anytime soon.
“That’s good,” the woman said without turning around. “You’re smart. That’ll help you stay alive longer.”
Is living like this really worth it? The thought was on the tip of my tongue, but I decided to keep my mouth shut.
I understood the situation with the game challenge. If someone else had the chance to get extra sol instead of you, then, dirty as it was, it made sense to drag that lucky guy away from the screen and not let him take advantage of it. The system would use a random number generator and give someone else that chance. Maybe it would be you. And if it wasn’t you, you would just find the winner and claim part of the reward for yourself.
But why hadn’t the thug just punched me in the face? I hadn’t seen any cops around. No one seemed to care about anything. One good punch would’ve definitely taken me down. Maybe even knocked me out. Hell, I’d have fallen over if he had just kicked my thigh, and it would’ve taken me forever to get up again. But he hadn’t. Why not? The answer was simple: he was afraid of something. Of someone. I raised my eyes to look at the rail that ran across the ceiling. At that exact moment, a metal dome covered in electronic eyes rolled by with a buzz.
Too many eyes, I thought. Maybe they all had different functions — scanners, sensors, x-ray… And I’d have bet anything there were more surveillance cameras hidden in the walls and ceiling.
That was what the thug was afraid of. After he pushed me, he had taken a step back and turned sharply, and I saw him looking at the ceiling in the moment before our eyes met. For a split second, fear engulfed his face. He was afraid of being caught. And if he was afraid of being caught, that meant there was such a thing as punishment around here.
I was so excited about my win that I had forgotten to check my balance, which should have increased by three sol. Glad of the chance to stop again, I leaned against the wall, activated the interface, and checked the financial section. I looked at the numbers... and a chuckle escaped my lips. Yeah. It had been foolish to hope. The system was definitely on top of things.
Balance: 0
Debt status: in debt.
Debt details:
Limb lease: 1 sol.
Immunosuppressants: 1 sol.
Vitamins: 1 sol.
First meaclass="underline" 1 sol.
First water ration: 1 sol.
Total debt owed: 5 sol.
Not much to be excited about. But at least my total debt was down, and that was a good thing. I thought about my upcoming lunch, dinner, and water rations, which I’d have to pay four more sol for. Four sol I hadn’t even earned yet.
I have a job to do... A job to do...
“A job to do,” I said out loud, pushing myself off the wall and continuing down the hallway. “A job to do...ORL... A job to do... ORL...”
I repeated these words like an endless mantra, over and over. It helped me push past the weakness and dizziness, helped me keep moving along towards my goal. To Zone 3. If only someone could tell me how much farther it was...
A job to do...
ORL...
A job to do...
ORL...
Step by step, Eleven. No. I’m not Eleven. I’m not the system’s robot, whoever or whatever this “system” is. I’m not a number. I’m El! I had no better ideas for what to call myself yet. But El was still better than Eleven or double ones.
One step at a time, Eleven. One step at a time.
A job to do...
ORL...
A job to do...
* * *
Zone 3. Block 6.
I made it. There I was, at the entrance to Block 6.
I stood there, scanning my surroundings. Things looked pretty bad.
To get in, I would have to walk about five hundred yards further along the hallway, then, following the signs, turn right and go roughly three hundred yards more, if I counted two of my pathetic steps as a yard. I had taken almost two thousand steps on my rubbery spaghetti-legs, and now that I had arrived and had a chance to look around, I realized I should’ve stayed where I was and let myself rest.
Zone 3 was made up of six blocks. Each block was an oval-shaped corridor that looped back on itself, kind of like a stretched-out gear with rectangular teeth. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all metal. Two domes moved in slow circles around the ceiling, and the walls were covered in gray spatters. The floor had gray puddles all over it... and dirty, sweaty workers were running, walking, hobbling, or even crawling over these puddles, slipping, sometimes falling, holding one or occasionally two buckets filled to the top with viscous gray slime. The buckets swung in their shaking hands, spilling gray droplets over the edge. One worker fell... and his bucket hit the wall with a clang and overturned, the gray slime spreading onto the floor, adding to an already large puddle.
The whole way here, I had wondered what a standard container was.
And there it was — a bucket! A shiny metal bucket that looked like it would hold about five gallons. It wasn’t tapered at the bottom or anything, just a big tub with a thin metal handle. And heavy as hell!
At that point I started to laugh uncontrollably, huddled in the corner next to the entrance to Zone 3, my palm pressed to my face. In that moment, I realized that if I was going to die, I would die of laughter, not of despair. I would try to be optimistic about everything first, then realistic. Screw pessimism.
Damn... There was such a big difference between the brief, businesslike job description and the actual process of getting it done!
Job: Collect gray slime. Easy (O)
Description: Collect and deliver forty standard containers of gray slime to the receiver unit.