The blue light of the monitor was the only thing illuminating the office.
It was 3:14 AM.
Cain Ashford stared at the spreadsheet until the cells began to swim. The black lines turned into grey smudges.
His eyelids felt like they were held open by heavy staples. He blinked, but the grit behind his eyes wouldn't shift.
He reached for his coffee mug. It was empty.
A ring of brown residue had dried at the bottom hours ago, forming a dark, cracked crust. Cain didn't get up to refill it. Standing required energy he no longer possessed.
At twenty-seven, Cain was a senior corporate analyst for a firm that specialized in "efficiency optimization." It was a bitter irony.
He spent forty hours a week telling other people how to save time. Then he spent another sixty wasting his own life to finish the reports.
The air conditioning hummed in the ceiling. It was a dry, synthetic sound that seemed to suck the moisture right out of his skin.
Everyone else had gone home at 6:00 PM. The cleaning crew had finished their rounds at midnight.
Even the security guard at the front desk was likely asleep, his head resting on a folded newspaper.
Cain's fingers hovered over the keyboard. One more report.
Mr. Henderson had sent the email at 11:45 PM. It was marked URGENT in all caps, the digital equivalent of a scream.
Henderson was currently asleep in a king-sized bed. It was a house that Cain's spreadsheets had helped buy.
Cain typed a three. Then a seven. His heart skipped a beat.
It wasn't a poetic flutter. It was a sharp, jagged twitch, like a bird trapped in a cage slamming its wings against the bars.
He paused. He took a slow, shallow breath.
The twitch subsided, but a cold, oily sweat broke out across his forehead. It was just the caffeine, he told himself.
Too many energy drinks. Too little sleep.
He went back to the data because that was what Cain did.
He had spent his entire life being the reliable one. In school, he was the student who did the entire group project alone while the others went to parties.
In university, he was the one who tutored his friends for free while skipping his own meals. In the corporate world, he was the man who never said no.
He was the perfect employee. Efficient. Quiet. Productive.
And currently, he was dying.
The twitch returned. This time, it didn't stop.
The sharp pain radiated from the center of his chest. It climbed up his neck like a vine of ice. It spiraled down his left arm until his fingers went numb.
His hand slipped from the mouse. The plastic felt strangely warm compared to his skin.
Cain tried to stand. He needed to reach his phone, which sat just three inches away next to the empty mug.
His legs didn't move. They felt heavy, as if his shoes had been filled with wet concrete while he wasn't looking.
He leaned forward, his chest hitting the sharp edge of the desk. The keyboard clattered under his weight.
A string of random letters appeared on the screen, a final, nonsensical statement to the world.
jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj
The cursor blinked steadily against the black background.
jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj
The pain was a cold fire now. It consumed everything.
He looked at the monitor one last time. He looked at the spreadsheet that had cost him his sleep, his health, and now his existence.
What a stupid way to go.
Henderson would find him in the morning. He would call HR, and they would post the job opening before Cain's body was even cold.
The board meeting would happen at 9:00 AM. Someone else would present his slides. Someone else would get the credit.
The machine wouldn't even skip a beat.
Cain felt a sudden, overwhelming wave of spite. Not at the company. Not at Henderson.
He was angry at himself.
He had played the game perfectly. He had followed every rule. He had been the ultimate cog.
And the machine didn't even know his middle name.
The darkness started at the edges of his vision. It was a soft, velvet black.
It felt surprisingly warm compared to the harsh fluorescent lights of the office. His head slumped onto the desk.
His cheek pressed against the cool plastic of the keyboard. He could hear his own heartbeat.
It was slowing down. Thump.
Pause.
Thump.
Longer pause.
He thought about the sun. He hadn't felt the sun on his face in weeks.
He left for work in the dark. He returned in the dark.
He thought about the ocean. He had promised himself a vacation three years ago, then cancelled it because of a "critical" merger.
He thought about a nap. A long, uninterrupted nap where no one could send him an email.
Where no one could ask for a projection. Where no one could tell him he was doing a great job while asking for more.
His lungs felt tight. He couldn't draw in enough air.
The blinking cursor was the last thing he saw.
jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj
It looked like a flatline. Cain closed his eyes.
If there is a next time, he thought. If I ever get a choice again.
I'm done.
I won't be the best. I won't be the first. I won't be the reliable one.
I'm going to be the laziest person in existence.
I'm going to sleep until noon. I'm going to drink coffee because I like the taste, not because I need to survive.
I'm going to sit in a chair and watch the grass grow. I'm going to do absolutely nothing.
The bird in his chest stopped slamming against the bars. The cage opened.
Cain Ashford felt the weight of twenty-seven years of expectations lift off his shoulders. It was the most productive thing he had ever done.
His final thought was a quiet, iron-clad vow. Never again.
Silence.
There was no light. There was no sound. There was no pain.
Cain existed in a void that felt like a sensory deprivation tank. It was the best sleep he had ever had.
He didn't want to wake up. He drifted.
He didn't have a body. He was just a collection of memories and a lingering sense of relief.
The office was gone. The spreadsheet was gone. Henderson was gone.
Then, something flickered. It wasn't a light.
It was a sensation. A small, annoying itch at the back of his mind.
He tried to ignore it. The itch grew.
It became a pulse.
Ping.
It was a sound. A familiar sound.
It sounded like a notification.
Cain felt a surge of pure, unadulterated rage. Even in death, he couldn't escape the notifications.
Ping.
[SUCCESSFUL TERMINATION OF PREVIOUS CONTRACT DETECTED]
[ANALYZING SOUL FREQUENCY...]
[COMPATIBILITY: 99.9%]
[CANDIDATE IDENTIFIED: CAIN ASHFORD]
The words didn't appear in front of him. They appeared inside him.
Cain wanted to scream, but he didn't have a mouth.
Leave me alone. I'm dead. Let me be dead.
[CORE DESIRE DETECTED: STRATEGIC INACTIVITY]
[LIFE GOAL IDENTIFIED: PASSIVE INCOME]
[MATCH FOUND]
The void began to shift. The silence was replaced by a low, mechanical hum.
Cain felt a pulling sensation. It was like being sucked through a very long, very thin straw.
[INITIATING REINCARNATION PROTOCOL]
[USER VOW ACKNOWLEDGED: "NEVER AGAIN"]
[ADJUSTING PARAMETERS FOR MINIMAL EFFORT]
[PREPARING STARTING LOCATION: SECLUDED]
[PREPARING INITIAL ASSETS: BARREN]
The pulling sensation intensified.
Cain felt the sudden, jarring weight of a body. It was heavy. It was solid. It was cold.
He felt wind on his skin. He felt sand beneath his fingers.
He opened his eyes.
The sky above him wasn't blue. It was a deep, bruised purple, streaked with clouds that looked like spilled silver ink.
There was no sun. Instead, three pale moons hung in the sky.
They cast a ghostly glow over the landscape. Cain sat up.
He was in the middle of a desert. But it wasn't a desert of sand.
It was a desert of grey ash. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing.
No trees. No water. No buildings. No Hendersons.
He looked at his hands. They were younger. Stronger.
The callouses from his keyboard were gone. He was wearing a simple white tunic and trousers.
They were comfortable.
He looked around.
The silence here was different from the office. It wasn't the silence of an empty building.
It was the silence of a world that hadn't started yet.
A small, translucent box floated in the air three feet in front of his face.
[WELCOME, CANDIDATE 001]
[LOCATION: SECTOR ZERO (THE HOUSE OF SIN)]
[STATUS: LANDLORD]
Cain stared at the box. Landlord?
He looked at the grey ash extending to the horizon. There was nothing here to rent.
There were no tenants. There wasn't even a blade of grass.
"Is this a joke?" he asked.
His voice was raspy. It sounded like it hadn't been used in a long time.
The box flickered.
[THIS IS YOUR NEW LIFE]
[GOAL: BUILD A COMFORTABLE EXISTENCE]
[GOAL: GENERATE PASSIVE INCOME]
[GOAL: DO NOT DIE FROM OVERWORK]
Cain let out a dry, hacking laugh.
"Don't worry," he whispered. "I've already checked that last one off the list."
He stood up. The ash shifted under his feet.
He didn't feel the urge to run. He didn't feel the need to find a phone.
He didn't feel the panic of being lost in a wasteland. He felt... fine.
It was quiet. It was empty.
If he stayed right here and did nothing, no one would bother him.
[INITIAL SYSTEM GIFT AVAILABLE]
[WOULD YOU LIKE TO OPEN IT?]
"No," Cain said. The box stayed there.
[ARE YOU SURE?]
"Yes. I'm taking a nap."
Cain lay back down on the grey ash. It was surprisingly soft.
It held the faint warmth of the moons. He closed his eyes.
He was on a barren planet. He was alone.
He was supposedly a god-candidate for existence itself. But right now, he was a man who had finally finished his overtime.
The System box pulsed gently in the dim light, waiting.
Cain Ashford fell asleep. For the first time in twenty-seven years, he didn't set an alarm.
[NOTICE: USER HAS ENTERED REST STATE]
[PASSIVE PROCESSES INITIALIZING...]