It was yet another Monday morning in Nova Kronos. The city rose around like a glass colossus, with buildings that seed to touch the sky, reflecting the vibrant glow of pulsating holographic advertisents. These holograms, lively and dynamic, gave the impression that the tropolis itself was breathing. The streets, covered with intelligent materials that adapted their texture as needed, were filled with flying vehicles, agile drones, and hurried pedestrians, all moving in a precise rhythm, like the gears of a gigantic machine.
I was part of this flow, but my mind wandered as I stretched on my comfortable bed. The automated curtains still blocked most of the light outside, but a golden glow escaped through the cracks, gently illuminating my minimalist room.
The sound of the alarm—a sharp mix of electronic tones—broke the silence, pulling back to reality. The ceiling of my room was filled with holographic projections: welco ssages, the day's schedule, and even reminders about ntal health amidst the exhausting routine. I sighed and, with a lazy gesture, turned off the alarm using the panel beside the bed. I activated the bathroom heater, which soon began releasing a gentle mist. I felt the weight of fatigue on my body, but the impersonal call of Monday mornings summoned to action.
After my shower, I put on my corporate uniform: a smart fabric shirt that regulated temperature, trousers that adjusted to my body, and shoes that molded perfectly to my feet. I grabbed my work bag, equipped with all the digital files and notifications I hadn't yet reviewed, and stepped out the door.
I entered the autonomous vehicle parked in the garage of my apartnt, and as the car carried to the office, I watched the streets. They were a sea of holograms, interactive advertisents, and people walking with headphones on, lost in their own worlds. The car glided silently among other autonomous vehicles, floating above the level of regular traffic. The flow was a labyrinth of precision, yet ti still seed to slip through my fingers like sand. Every day, the sa scene.
When I finally arrived at the underground parking lot of the corporate building, I stepped out, carrying my bag and blending into the crowd of employees. The building before was an imnse structure of glass and steel, its upper floors disappearing into the clouds. There was sothing imposing about the architecture, but also a sense of emptiness, as if everyone there was playing a role they hadn't chosen but never questioned.
As I entered the lobby, the air was saturated with the artificial scent of hydroponically grown plants and the soft sound of ambient music. The receptionist, Abigail, stood in her usual spot, an artificial smile on her face as she greeted employees. She wore heavy makeup, her large tal earrings swaying slightly with the movent of her head, and her hands were always busy manipulating the holograms on her terminal. It was clear that she knew much about what went on inside that building and about the lives of the people who passed through there.
"Good morning, Alexander," Abigail said in her automated voice, her expression unchanged. "Another successful day ahead, isn't it?"
"The sa as always. And you?" I replied politely, my impersonal tone already prepared for the type of conversation I knew was about to unfold. Abigail, ever enthusiastic, wasted no ti launching into her morning story.
"Oh, it was great! You know, Noah and I tried..." she began, diving into the details of her weekend with vigor and enthusiasm, just as she did every other week. The story was the sa—perhaps with a few variations, but nothing that would raise an eyebrow or prompt to interrupt.
With my eyes subtly shifting to the digital display on my watch, I let the conversation flow while my mind wandered elsewhere.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the elevator arrived, granting freedom. I offered a brief excuse, stepping away with a slight nod, as the sound of the doors closing behind sealed my escape. The relief of breaking away from the monotony propelled toward the 15th floor, where the office awaited.
As I stepped out of the elevator, I found a calm, quiet environnt—a temporary refuge before the day's hustle began. The office was modern and minimalist, with large windows offering a panoramic view of the tropolis. Yet, the glass walls and open design made the space feel colder and more impersonal than inviting. I was one of the first to arrive in my section, a small advantage I appreciated now and then—a brief island of peace at the start of the workday.
I sat down at my ticulously organized desk and powered up my computer. The screen lit up with my personalized interface. Emails began to populate the inbox, most of them on topics I had already anticipated but needed to read anyway. Financial reports, spreadsheets with the latest investnt analysis figures, market updates—all perfectly aligned for my review.
I felt at ease in this space, away from social chatter, imrsed in numbers and projections. I'd always had a good instinct for investnts, an intuitive ability to sense where money should be placed and where it shouldn't. For , this was the easiest part of the job.
"Business Analyst"—the title seed almost excessive for what I did, but for an outsider, it might appear dull. Yet, for , there was a peculiar tranquility in losing myself in financial calculations and forecasts.
The office gradually filled with more employees, but the formal greetings soon faded. The sound of keyboards clicking and the low murmurs of quiet conversations took over the space, but I was immune to the buzz. I noticed with an internal sigh that, unfortunately, there were no donuts today—a slight disappointnt since it wasn't every day that soone brought them to the office. Another morning without surprises, with nothing but predictability.
As the day progressed and I worked through more emails and reports, I began to feel a slight fatigue. I hadn't slept enough—the sa lingering tiredness that often accompanied —but I was used to it. Lack of sleep didn't affect as much as it seed to affect others.
The work carried on, and so did I. The office continued to fill with more employees as the hours passed, but social interactions in my corner were minimal. I'd always been this way—discreet and reserved.
Just as I was finishing my thoughts, the soft sound of my supervisor Lucas's boots echoed across the room. Lucas approached with his characteristic wide, contagious smile, his warm and friendly tone filling the space effortlessly.
"Hey, buddy! A few of us are heading out for lunch. Want to join?" Lucas asked, his natural enthusiasm radiating energy and lighting up the room without trying.
"Yeah, sure, sounds good," I replied timidly, my tone always more reserved yet polite. I didn't want to be the type of person who declined invitations—especially when the invite ca from soone like Lucas.
I really liked Lucas. It was hard not to like soone like him. He was, without a doubt, the kind of person people would call a "natural leader." Lucas had a rare talent for reading people with precision and making anyone feel at ease in his presence. He spoke to everyone with the sa ease, whether it was the company president or the newest employee, and he always knew exactly what to say to keep a conversation interesting and flowing.
Behind Lucas stood Xavier, an imposing man with an expression that initially seed stern but quickly revealed itself to be more nuanced. Large and taciturn was the first impression he left on anyone eting him for the first ti, but I knew Xavier was, in reality, a gentle giant.
He was always there, silently shadowing Lucas, and though he appeared intimidating at first glance, Xavier was kinder and more laid-back than most would expect. His loyalty to Lucas was almost unfathomable to those who didn't know their history. Sohow, Xavier seed to be there to protect, support, and even act as a caretaker—almost like a butler but with the quiet, enigmatic deanor that made him a mystery to others.
Lucas, to , was almost an exception to the rule. As the son of an absurdly wealthy family, he could have easily turned out to be the typical spoiled heir with arrogant and indifferent attitudes. Yet, sohow, Lucas had risen above all of that. Not only did he remain humble and genuine, but he also beca the central figure in countless conversations—the person everyone wanted around, regardless of social status.
I got up and headed to the elevator with Lucas and Xavier, chatting along the way about work and the eting we had planned for after the lunch break.
I spotted Abigail with Noah, her husband, stepping into the sa elevator as , Lucas, and Xavier. The elevator quickly beca cramped, as three other people were already inside, waiting to go down.
One of those three was Beatrice. Beatrice was a coworker in the human resources departnt, which shared office space with my departnt. She was a year younger than , slim, Black, and, frankly, I had never seen a Black woman so stunning. Normally, I was drawn to white won, but this woman unsettled in a way I couldn't quite explain.
I knew it was probably because she was one of the only won my age I interacted with regularly. Just two people of the opposite sex in close proximity—a fact that, without a doubt, contributed to my never acting on any emotional impulses.
So, all I could manage was a nod and a small "Good morning," despite it already being noon. I barely managed to suppress my embarrassnt, but thankfully, she seed to take it as a poorly tid joke.
I was perfectly aware that Beatrice barely saw as a friend and had no romantic interest in . Lucas, on the other hand, was clearly on her radar. Not that I could bla her. Lucas was a great guy, no matter how you described him, and I simply couldn't bring myself to dislike him, even though he was my unconscious and one-sided rival in love.
As for , I was what soone would describe as fairly average in the departnt in terms of appearance. Neither too fat nor too thin, with short black hair, black eyes, and a face that couldn't be described as either handso or unattractive.
I was a focused man, with an energy that shone through my passion for physical activities and my commitnt to taking care of my body. My above-average physique was the result of a combination of discipline and enjoynt. From a young age, I had always felt a special connection to archery, a sport I practiced regularly for fun.
My parents had gifted a ho training range where I could hone my skills while enjoying the solitude and tranquility of the environnt. The pursuit of perfection in archery also reflected in other aspects of my life.
I maintained a rigorous gym routine, not just to build strength and endurance but also to fuel my ambition of becoming a high-level athlete. Although the dream of being an athlete seed far off, I didn't let that discourage , staying committed to a healthy and balanced lifestyle.
My routine was predictable, marked by hours of training and monts of leisure devoted to archery. But the sudden sound of the elevator moving snapped out of my daily thoughts.
The sound of the elevator doors closing was followed by a strange feeling, as if the environnt around was distorting. I began to drift into reflections about what to have for lunch, small pleasures filling my mind. But then, a new sound cut through my thoughts—sothing that made shudder.
"BOOOMM~~"
This ti, the sound seed to echo inside my head, almost like an internal explosion, followed by words that appeared before my eyes—not in the physical world, but in my mind. I barely had ti to process what was happening when a strange sensation overca my body.
The words, quick and cryptic, flashed like a commanding directive.
"Introduction and tutorial sequence starting."
Before I could try to make sense of what was happening, I felt my body give in to the darkness, and I fainted, unaware that this mont would mark the beginning of a completely new and unexpected journey.
...
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