The smell of dog waste seemed to have soaked into his soul. Back in his dorm, Evan scrubbed his sneaker under the tap, the cold water numbing his hands. The timer, ever-present, read [37:12:09]. Despair was a cold stone in his gut. He'd seen her smile. He knew it existed. And he'd somehow made the moment worse.
A new alert pulsed in his vision, different from the timer.
[TRIAL MISSION ISSUED: DEMONSTRATE BASIC COMPLIANCE.]
[OBJECTIVE: PROCURE AND DELIVER A BEVERAGE TO TARGET ANNA CHEN.]
[ADVANCED FUNDS: $20.]
As the words finished forming, Evan felt a sudden weight in the front pocket of his jeans. He jumped, dropping the wet sneaker. He reached in and pulled out a crisp twenty-dollar bill. It felt real. It smelled of fresh ink. He turned it over. It was ordinary. It had just… appeared.
The system was funding him. To buy things for her.
A tiny spark of hope cut through the despair. This was a tool. A messed-up, restrictive tool, but a tool nonetheless.
He knew where she'd be. Sunday afternoon meant the library's silent floors.
He went to the expensive artisan coffee cart in the student union, the one Anna would never waste her own money on. He bought a large mocha with whipped cream, the works. He carried it carefully across campus, the warm cup a strange comfort against his palms.
He found her at her usual carrel. She didn't look up as he approached, her pen moving swiftly across a graph paper.
He placed the coffee cup on the corner of her desk, just within her field of view.
Anna's pen stopped. She looked at the cup, then up at him. Her expression was pure, unamused confusion. "What is this?"
"Coffee. You look like you've been here awhile." He tried to sound casual, not desperate.
"I don't like caffeine," she said flatly. "It creates artificial alertness that masks true cognitive fatigue. It's counter-productive."
Evan's heart sank. Of course. She analyzed everything.
"It's… also warm," he tried, lamely.
She stared at him for a long moment. He saw the calculations behind her eyes. The rejection of a gift was a social interaction. Wasting time explaining was another. Accepting it was the path of least resistance to return to her work.
With a sigh that sounded like it carried the weight of the world, she pulled the cup toward her. "Thank you." The words were automatic, empty. She didn't touch it. She went back to her graph.
A soft chime echoed in Evan's head.
[TRIAL MISSION COMPLETE.]
[FAVORABILITY: ANNA CHEN +5%]
[REWARD: $50 DEPOSITED.]
The weight in his pocket increased. He shoved his hand in and pulled out two twenties and a ten. The coffee had cost six dollars. He'd made a profit. A profit he couldn't spend.
But the +5% was real. It was the first green number he'd seen. A desperate, giddy laugh bubbled in his throat. He'd bought her annoyance. And it had worked.
Hunger clawed at his stomach. He hadn't eaten since yesterday, too anxious. He had fifty dollars now. The system said he couldn't spend it on himself. But what did that mean? He needed to test the boundaries.
He went to the campus convenience store. He grabbed a pre-packaged sandwich, a banana, and a bottle of water. He brought them to the self-checkout, his palms sweating.
He took the fifty from his pocket. He unfolded it. He held it up to the scanner.
The machine beeped. The total showed $8.75. He pressed 'Finish and Pay'.
The fifty-dollar bill vanished from his fingers.
Not dropped. Not snatched. It ceased to exist between one moment and the next. One frame it was there, the next, his fingers were pinching empty air.
The checkout screen flashed: 'Please present payment.'
Evan stood there, stunned. He checked his other pocket. He looked on the floor. Nothing.
"You okay, man?" the guy behind him asked, impatient.
"Yeah. Sorry." Evan's face burned. He put the items back on the shelf with trembling hands and walked out.
He needed to be sure. He went to an ATM. He took out his own last ten-dollar bill—his real, pathetic money. He held the system's fifty in one hand, his ten in the other. He tried to put the fifty into the deposit slot.
It vanished the moment his intent to deposit it for his own account became clear. His ten remained.
He tried buying socks. Vanished. A bus ticket to nowhere. Vanished. A single stick of gum. Vanished.
The rule was absolute. The system knew his intent. It was a cruel, infallible accountant.
Then, he remembered something Anna had muttered to her study group yesterday. "…need the new edition of Statistical Thermodynamics but the library waitlist is sixteen people…"
A textbook. For her. That was an aligned action.
He found the book in the campus bookstore. It cost $42. He carried it to the register, the system's fifty feeling heavy and dangerous in his hand.
"That'll be forty-five with tax," the cashier said.
Evan handed over the bill. He held his breath.
The cashier took it. She made change. She put the book in a bag and handed it to him. The money didn't vanish. The transaction held.
He stood outside the store, bag in hand, understanding dawning. He could buy things for her. Tangible, specific things she needed. The system allowed it.
But what about… indirect things? Things for a group she was in?
Another idea formed. A loophole.
He used his remaining system money (the five dollars in change from the book, plus two more dollars that appeared as a 'transaction completion bonus') to buy the largest, most extravagant pizza he could find from the campus pizzeria. Pepperoni, sausage, extra cheese. He had it delivered to the library's group study room where he knew Anna's team was working.
He didn't approach. He pointed the delivery guy to the room. "For the Chen study group," he said.
From his hiding spot by the water fountain, he watched. The delivery guy entered. A moment of confusion, then one of Anna's teammates—the girl—accepted the pizza with a surprised smile. She brought it to the table. He saw the team look around, puzzled. Anna was frowning, suspicious.
Then the guy with glasses opened the box. The smell of hot cheese and pepperoni filled the air. The team's fatigue seemed to lift. They argued for a second, then each took a slice. After a long hesitation, Anna, likely not wanting to be the only one refusing, took a small slice as well.
She didn't smile. But the deep, permanent furrow between her brows relaxed, just for a moment. She ate methodically, but she ate.
The chime in Evan's head was sweeter this time.
[INDIRECT GIFTING ACKNOWLEDGED.]
[FAVORABILITY: ANNA CHEN +8%]
[NOTE: CREATIVE COMPLIANCE IS TOLERATED.]
Evan leaned against the wall, a wave of exhausted triumph washing over him. He'd done it. He'd fed her. He'd gained ground. He was learning the rules of his cursed game.
His triumph was short-lived.
Across the lobby, leaning against the opposite wall with his arms crossed, was Marcus Thorne. He wasn't looking at the study room. He was looking directly at Evan. A slow, intrigued smile played on his lips. He'd seen the pizza delivery. He'd seen Evan hiding and watching.
Marcus pushed off the wall, gave Evan a mocking little salute, and walked away, his phone already in his hand.
The cold stone of dread was back, heavier now. He'd gained a few percentage points.
And he'd attracted a shark.
[TIME REMAINING: 29:22:41]