The email had three words: "We need you."
Ethan Monroe deleted it without reading the signature. Same as the last five from her. His mother had been "needing him" for three years—ever since he'd signed the nursing home papers and stopped visiting. The guilt trips could wait. He had a presentation in twenty minutes that would make him the youngest VP in Meridian Tech's history.
"Coffee. Black. Now." He snapped his fingers at the intern hovering near his door—what was her name? Jessica? Jennifer? She'd only been here six months.
"It's Jamie, Mr. Monroe. And I actually need to talk to you about—"
"Do I pay you to talk or to get coffee?" He didn't look up from his laptop. The presentation slides were perfect. *His* presentation slides. Well, technically they were based on the algorithm that intern… Marcus? Matthew? Whatever his name was, had developed. But Ethan had polished them. Made them boardroom-ready. The kid should be grateful for the learning opportunity.
Jamie's jaw tightened. "The coffee machine is broken. And I really need to—"
"Then go to the Starbucks across the street. Is this difficult?"
She left without another word. Good. He needed to focus.
His phone buzzed. Sarah. His girlfriend of two years.
Sarah: We need to talk. Tonight. It's important.
Ethan grimaced. She'd been distant lately, but he didn't have time for relationship drama today. He fired back a quick reply.
Ethan: Big presentation. Dinner tomorrow instead?
Three dots appeared, then disappeared. Then nothing.
Women.
He glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes. He grabbed his tablet and headed for the elevator, nearly colliding with a cleaning cart. The elderly janitor—Chang? Chen?—backed away quickly, apologizing in accented English.
"Watch where you're going," Ethan muttered, stepping around the spilled mop water. His Italian leather shoes. Probably ruined. He'd bill the cleaning company.
The boardroom was already filling with executives. Ethan straightened his tie and walked in with the confident stride of someone who'd never doubted himself. Why would he? Everything in his life had come easy. Top of his class at Stanford. Job offers from three Fortune 500s. Promoted twice in four years. At thirty-two, he was exactly where he deserved to be.
"Ethan! Ready to blow us away?" Tom Richardson, the CEO, shook his hand enthusiastically.
Always, sir.
The presentation went flawlessly. Forty-five minutes of data visualization, market projections, and strategic vision that had the entire board nodding. When he finished, the applause was immediate.
Exceptional work, Monroe," Tom said. "This kind of innovation is exactly why we're promoting you to VP of Product Development.
Ethan's chest swelled. "Thank you, sir. I've put everything into this."
"We can see that. Though I have to ask—" Tom pulled up something on his tablet. "—I had a conversation with one of your team members yesterday. Marcus Chen. He mentioned he developed the core algorithm here. Said you... borrowed it for the presentation?"
The room went silent.
Ethan didn't hesitate. "Marcus is a brilliant junior developer, but he's confused about the collaborative nature of our workflow. I mentored him through the algorithm's development, refined it, and made it commercially viable. Without my guidance, it would still be theoretical code gathering dust."
Tom studied him for a long moment. "I see."
"I can provide documentation of my contributions if—"
"That won't be necessary." Tom's expression had shifted, grown cooler. "Though I think we'll table the VP discussion for now. Let's revisit this after I have a chance to review the project history. Meeting adjourned."
The executives filed out. Ethan stood frozen, watching his promotion evaporate.
His phone buzzed again. Sarah.
Sarah: I'm at Mason's place. We've been seeing each other for three months. I'm sorry, Ethan. But you were never really THERE, you know? I needed someone who actually saw me.
Mason. His best friend since college.
The room tilted.
Another buzz. Tom Richardson this time.
Tom: Reviewed the Git commits. You took credit for someone else's work. That's termination-level misconduct. HR will be in touch. Clear out your desk by 5 PM.
Ethan's hands were shaking. This couldn't be happening. Not to him. There had to be a mistake. This was HIS life. His SUCCESS. He'd earned this.
He grabbed his things and stormed out, ignoring the stares from coworkers who'd clearly already heard. The elevator took too long. He took the stairs, nearly knocking over that same janitor on the landing.
"Hey! Watch—" The old man stumbled, caught himself on the railing.
Ethan didn't stop. Didn't apologize. His life was imploding. Who cared about some janitor?
Outside, rain had started falling. Of course it had. His car was eight blocks away because the parking garage had been full. He walked in a daze, soaked within minutes.
His phone rang. His mother. He declined the call.
It rang again. Unknown number. He declined.
Again. Again. Again.
"WHAT?" He finally answered.
Silence. Then a voice—neither male nor female, like synthesized speech but somehow alive.
"Ethan Monroe. Your application has been accepted."
"What application? Who is this?"
"You have been selected for the Career Experience System. You will experience one new profession each week. Complete each assignment to unlock skills, understanding, and progression. Refuse, and you will lose everything you have left."
"Is this a joke? Did Marcus put you up to—"
"This is not a joke. Look down."
Ethan looked at his phone. The screen had changed. It now showed a sleek interface he'd never seen before—like a game UI overlaid on reality.
[EMPATHY SYSTEM INITIALIZED]
User: Ethan Monroe
Level: 0 - Unaware
Current Career: None
Careers Completed: 0
Next Assignment: Activating in 72 hours
Transgression Log:
- Marcus Chen - Stolen credit
- Jamie Rodriguez - Dismissal and demeaning treatment
- Chen Wei - Disrespect, caused injury
- Sarah Kim - Emotional neglect
- Margaret Monroe - Abandonment
- [54 additional entries... expand?]
Ethan's blood went cold. This was everything. Every person he'd ever—
No. This was insane. A hack. Someone was messing with him.
He tried to close the app. It wouldn't close. He tried to delete it. Nothing. He tried to restart his phone.
When it powered back on, the interface was still there. Now with a new message:
"You cannot escape what you have earned, Ethan. But you can learn from it. Your first career begins in 72 hours. Use this time wisely."
Ethan stood in the rain, staring at his phone, at the list of names—people he barely remembered, people he'd hurt without thinking, people who were apparently just… keeping score?
Thunder rumbled overhead.
For the first time in his privileged, easy life, Ethan Monroe felt truly afraid.