I stand in my small, dimly lit apartment,
surrounded by memories of my mother.
It's been a year since she passed away,
but grief still lingers – especially today. Today is the day I register for Reboot.
I look down at the necklace in my hand –
a silver chain with a small, crystal pendant.
My mother left it behind,
along with a note: "For Ivan, when the time comes." I believe the time is now. I put on the necklace, feeling its weight against my chest.
Then, I glance at my reflection in the mirror:
- I'm wearing worn black jeans, faded from years of use
- My grey hoodie has frayed cuffs and hem
- My scuffed black boots are held together with tape
- My mother's necklace – the only valuable thing I own hidden under my gray hoodie.
My dark hair is messy, my eyes are red from lack of sleep. I haven't slept much since hearing Reboot registration is open.
Excitement and nerves have taken over.
I grab my ID card and head out the door,
locking the apartment behind me.
The train station is my destination –
where registration booths are set up for Reboot. As I walk through the crowded streets, I notice glances from fellow Lower Class citizens.
As I walk towards the train station,
I'm surrounded by fellow Lower Class citizens – each with their own struggles and stories.
I see: An elderly woman, 60ish, sitting on the curb, her frail body wrapped in tattered blankets, eyes sunken from hunger and age.
She clutches a faded photo, her gaze distant. She slowly stands, joining the crowd towards the station.
A young girl, around 7, playing alone in the dirt, her bright smile contrasting her surroundings, barefoot and dressed in hand-me-downs. Her laughter echoes through the street as she runs towards her mother,
who's heading to the train station with a determined look.
A war veteran, likely 40, leaning against a wall, his leg amputated, war medals hanging from his neck, eyes haunted by memories and pain. He stares blankly ahead, lost in thought, then snaps back to reality and joins the crowd towards the station.
A single mother, probably 28, pushing a stroller, her face etched with worry and exhaustion, two toddlers clinging to her legs.
She rushes towards the train station,
determined to register her eldest for Reboot.
A sickly boy, around 12, coughing violently,
his skin pale, eyes glassy from illness,
held up by his frail mother. They both head towards the station, hoping Reboot brings them a better life.
Everyone's destination is the same –
the train station where Reboot registration awaits. As we approach the entrance,
armed guards block the way, ID scanners in hand, expressions cold and unforgiving.
One guard steps forward, voice firm and commanding:
"IDs out, citizens.
Registration is only for Lower Class
between 18 and 25 years old. Others will be turned away." Guards start grabbing IDs,
scanning them roughly, then pushing citizens towards the entrance: A guard grabs my ID, scans it, and shoves me forward –
"Ivan, age 19. Proceed."
Another guard takes the single mother's ID,
scans it, and frowns – "Age 28, not eligible. Move along." She protests,
"My eldest is 18, he's with me!" The guard replies sternly, "Only his ID will be accepted. Step back."
The elderly woman approaches,
ID in hand, but the guard rejects her –
"Age 62, not eligible. Next!"
She cries out, "But my grandson would've registered if he weren't sick! Can't I register for him?" The guard remains firm, "Rules are clear. Move along, ma'am."
The war veteran's ID is scanned,
but he's also rejected – "Age 40, not eligible. Thank you for serving, but move along." He growls, "This is the only chance for us to escape poverty... You're denying us hope!"
The guards remain unfazed, only allowing citizens between 18-25 to pass.
Once inside, I'm herded towards a massive train, already packed with fellow Lower Class citizens. The doors close,
and the train lurches forward –
destination: Reboot City.
A voice comes over the intercom, "Welcome, Reboot contestants. Your journey to Reboot City will take 5 hours. Food and water are provided. Prepare yourselves physically and mentally. Reboot begins tomorrow morning."
The 5-hour train ride passes slowly,
my mind racing with thoughts of Reboot.
Finally, the train slows down, and the voice comes over the intercom again: "Welcome, contestants. Reboot City has arrived.
Please exit the train in an orderly fashion."
The doors open, and I step out into bright sunlight. Before me lies Reboot City –
a massive, futuristic complex unlike anything I've seen. But what surprises me most are the people – not just Lower Class citizens like myself...
Upper Class participants stand confidently,
dressed in luxurious attire, their IDs displaying names like "Julian Saint Clair" and "Ava Moreno".
Middle Class citizens look around nervously,
dressed modestly, their IDs showing names like "Mayra Patel" and "Ethan Kim".
They're all here... from every Class...
all equal in this moment.
A loud voice booms from the complex entrance: "Reboot contestants, welcome!
You have all taken the first step towards changing your fate. Please proceed to the registration desks inside. Your Reboot journey begins now!"
I stand frozen, my mind reeling from this unexpected twist – the Classes united...
yet about to clash in the ultimate competition. Then, I join the crowd flowing towards the entrance.
Once inside Reboot City's massive complex, contestants are herded towards a large hallway. Suddenly, the crowd is divided by class :
Upper Class contestants are directed left,
through a luxurious hallway with golden trim.
Middle Class citizens are sent straight ahead, down a modestly decorated hallway with silver accents.
Lower Class – my class – turns right,
into a plain, functional hallway with concrete walls.
We're led into a large room filled with rows of tables. A voice announces,
"Contestants, please collect your Reboot supplies. These will be your resources throughout the game."
Lower Class tables hold:
Plain grey backpacks with:
- 1 water bottle
- 2 energy bars
- 1 first-aid kit
- 1 multi-tool knife
- A standard-issue jumpsuit with our name and Class printed on back.
Middle Class tables (visible from afar) seem to have slightly better supplies –
- Backpacks with more food and better medical kits
- Jumpsuits with some armor padding.
Upper Class tables (farthest away) appear luxurious –
- High-tech backpacks with advanced gadgets
- Jumpsuits with full body armor and flexi-shields.
I grab my supplies, feeling a mix of determination and dread.Reboot officially begins tomorrow... tonight, we're left to prepare and ponder our fate.