Ethan had grown up at thirty-two to his life's quiet rhythms. His days were routine. The logistics company's pared-back office cubicle, the hum of photocopiers, the polite forced smile in staff he barely recognized. At night, he walked home to his small flat, a box crammed with books, dead houseplants, and a temperamental coffee machine that worked better than him.
Routine was numb.
Routine was secure.
And yet, deep in his chest, there was this hollow hunger. The sense that all of life wasn't supposed to be about deadlines, bills, and solitary dinners in the cold glare of a sputtering TV set. But like the rain, it was something that Ethan lived through, something that he was too afraid to alter.
Tonight was not different until his phone rang.
He stopped in the doorway of a shuttered bookstore, wiping drips from the screen. A new icon flashed in the upper-right-hand corner of his monitor, one that had never been in that position before. Odd, as he had installed no software in recent times. Curiosity interrupted routine.
It was a pared-down mark: a black wedge cutting a silver disk in half. No title, no credit.
Just there. Waiting.
Ethan frowned. He had to delete it. That's the smart thing to do. Some malware or joke or whatever. But his thumb, instead, came down.
The monitor flickered.
WELCOME, CHOSEN
Your journey starts here.
Ethan blinked. "What the hell?"
It opened with the beautiful curve of a book-page turning. White letters traversed a black emptiness:
You are allowed to enter the Veil.
Destiny is made by decisions. Work reveals truth. Fortune follows merit.
Initially, Ethan had thought that it must have been an alternate reality game of some sort. Some sort of viral marketing campaign. Once the words dissipated, there was a soft chime.
FIRST TASK:
Within the span of an hour, a man wearing a gray jacket will trip on Seventh Street.
assist him
Reward: [Piece of Ability – Perception
Failure: [System Recalibration].
His heart began racing more rapidly. Absurd, something from a science fiction book. But the seriousness of the tone of the warning was such that it could not be dismissed. Seventh Street was just a few blocks away.
"Preposterous," he growled, jamming the phone into his pocket again. And still. his feet seemed pointed toward Seventh.
City noise tonight was snappier, tire on wet pavement, distant murmur of speech, whir of streetlights. His chest tightened up. He had no right to have come.
And there he beheld him.
A man in a grey coat stepped out of the shadow of an alley, holding his chest. His knees gave way. One second more, and he fell onto the slick street, gasping for breath.
Ethan stood still. The phone in his pocket vibrated slightly, as if to remind him.
His heart pounding. He needed to call someone. He needed to leave there. It was not his issue. His legs disagreed, though, and now Ethan was on his knees in the rain beside the stranger
"Wait! Hey!" He shook his shoulder. No reaction. A panic, but his fingers felt for breath, for pulse. Something from years ago in some long forgotten CPR course seemed to appear in his head.
"Come on, don't die on me," snarled Ethan, his hands pinning the man's chest. One, two, three.... His palms struck in rhythm, rain mixing with sweat. All focused on the desperate pumping of the compressions, the wheeze of his breath.
The man coughed. A raw wheeze tore from his lungs. His eyes snapped open, vacant but alive. A flood of relief surged through Ethan's arteries and made him shiver.
There were sirens wailing in the distance, someone else had called an ambulance, Ethan was standing
Slowly, soaked to the skin, heart pounding. The man was alive. He had survived.
His phone rang again.
TASK ACCOMPLISHED
Reward gained: [Perception I].
System Calibration: Stable.
And then, as if nothing had occurred, the screen turned black. Ethan gazed, rain streaming down his hair into his eyes. The city continued to pass by, unaffected, but his world had just changed. For the first time in years, though, he felt numb. He felt. awake. And he understood that this was just the start.