The world falls into place, one sluggish blink at a time. That obnoxious WayneTech alarm pierces into his skull, and yet it is the only anchor to reality he has. Sleep and the fading remnants of his dream coax his consciousness back under with the aid of his pervasive exhaustion. If it wasn't for that damned alarm, he wouldn't be able to ignore rest's tempting call.
Just five more minutes, his body pleads with him as he drags himself from his bed's loving embrace. The alarm had done its predesigned trick, however, and roused him from the confines of collapsing into the sleep of only an hour. Past-Tim, who knew how seductive sleep can be without adequate rest, was a productivity-obsessed sadist; Current-Tim really wants to find that guy and punch him in the throat.
His violent tendencies especially stem from him stumbling out of bed, his lungs seeming to shrink, his vision blurring, and his whirling, fizzling head. Being this affected is a blaring red sign that he should crawl back into his bed until his eyes no longer burn. A sign he can not heed, not with the pressing burdens laid upon his shoulders and the weight of lives depending on him.
He fumbles through his twelve-digit kill code for the alarm even as blind as he currently is; he is far too used to moving under such conditions. It's only when that incessant, ear-splitting sound has stopped that he becomes aware of several things in rapid succession: the carpet smells like stale espresso, the empty void where his spleen should be is aching again, and he’s missing a sock.
Should he be concerned about the static edging his vision? The encroaching grey is flickering and floating in an uneven narrowing of his field of view.
Ultimately, he decides to ignore it. Considering he’s not dead yet, it can’t be that bad.
Patting beside his alarm clock for his phone, he sighs at the plethora of notifications he notices upon unlocking it. Every time Tim opens his phone, Bruce has a new task for him just like he does right now.
Meet at WE at noon, Bruce’s latest text says. Short, simple, precise. An order, like always. Tim doesn’t have the choice to say no.
He tosses his phone aside.
A further fluttering of static across his vision distracts his stumble to the bathroom - his symptoms worryingly getting worse. It's almost enough for him to consider getting a health check.
Crashing into the bathroom counter, he peers up at his own reflection. The person staring back looks like a background extra in a low-budget zombie flick. His skin has a distinct greyish undertone that he’s pretty sure isn’t just the gleam of fluorescent lights, and the dark circles under his eyes have progressed from college-student tired to sickly Victorian child locked in the attic.
And there’s that static again when he looks down at the sink. Like too much blood rushing to his head all at once, just… more intense. It does nothing to help the pounding behind his temple.
He sends a longing glance at his bed, too tired to remember exactly why he needs to go to work except that it was important. Important enough to trudge through washing his face and brushing his teeth.
As he raises his gaze back to the mirror, his vision swells into the staticky gray of a poor TV connection or as though he was seeing the world through a VR calibration page. He could see his hands clearly, even if the world around him was still muddled. Rubbing his eyes, Tim noticed that he still felt real, even if the world around him seemingly didn’t.
He startles at a floating and translucent box abruptly popping into his vision, accompanied by a loud ding that fills him with more dread than his alarm ever could.
>System integration complete. Welcome, New Player!
“What the fuck—” Tim turns quickly to see where that is coming from only to frreze when the box follows him.
He moves his head around a few times, then just his eyes. Slowly, then fast with disbelief. The message stays in front of his sight.
What the hell has he gotten himself into now?
The message continues to stare at him – the floating box certainly a herald of doom. That's how it always is in his line of work.
>Due to being a new player, you are currently in the training arc. Some penalties are inactive and some restrictions are applied. Complete the training arc to unlock more properties of the system!
Tim blinks at the weird retro game-style graphics that are, for some reason, hijacking his vision. Is this some new level of sleep deprivation he’s just unlocked?
He tries poking it. His hand meets no resistance as it passes through the box. Squinting at the translucent message, he muses, “Training arc? How do I complete it?”
>Arc One will begin in 23:51:47
>Complete 3 objectives before Arc One begins.
>Success: Unlock some features of the system, ???
Like a cold hand settling on the back on his neck, Tim eyes the question marks with a frown.
“Why can't I see what the consequences are?”
>You do not have clearance to view this information. Unlock more of the system to raise your clearance level.
Of course Tim won't even get a straight answer regarding what would happen to him if he didn't obey the will of the system. How is he supposed to adequately plan around the consequences or decide whether to disregard these messages if he doesn't know the extent it can affect him? The only path he can take at this point is cooperation.
“Okay, system. What objectives do I have to complete?”
>Scanning for current objectives…
>New objective discovered!
[“Select one of the following options: Ignore text and don't go to work, postpone meeting and don't go to work, postpone meeting and go to work, confirm meeting and go to work]
Now even his choices are limited by the system? What happens if he doesn't choose? Can he opt out?
As if reading his thoughts, another message pops up:
He has to choose. With the limited information he has, it's inadvisable to reject the system at this point.
Select one of the following options
Ignore text and don't go to work
Postpone meeting and don't go to work
Postpone meeting and go to work
Confirm meeting and go to work
Voting ended onJan 15
