The harsh buzz of Kyle's alarm pierced through the dim morning air at 4:00 AM. He groaned, rolling off his thin futon and onto the cold concrete floor of the cramped apartment. Around him, five other bodies stirred slightly but remained asleep, their breathing creating a symphony of exhaustion that had become the soundtrack of his life.
Kyle rubbed his eyes and stretched, his joints protesting after another night on the uncomfortable mattress. The apartment was barely large enough for one person, let alone six, but it was all they could afford. The walls were stained with moisture and age, and the single window was cracked down the middle, letting in drafts that made winter nights unbearable.
He padded quietly to the bathroom, trying not to wake the others. The shower head sputtered to life, delivering its usual stream of freezing water. Kyle gritted his teeth as the cold hit his skin, but he'd long ago stopped complaining about luxuries like hot water. Those were for people with AI systems, people who mattered.
After his brief shower, Kyle grabbed two slices of stale bread from the counter—his breakfast and likely his only meal until evening. He wrapped one slice in a napkin and shoved it in his pocket for later, then took a bite of the other as he headed for the door.
The city was already buzzing with activity as Kyle made his way through the streets. Holographic advertisements floated above him, all featuring people with their AI interfaces glowing softly around their temples. "Upgrade today!" one proclaimed. "Join the elite 20% with a Level 3 Genesis System!" Another showed a guild member effortlessly defeating a monster, his stats and abilities displayed in real-time for all to see.
Kyle looked away. These ads weren't for him—they were just another reminder of what he'd never have.
---
"Kyle! Over here!"
Maya's voice cut through the morning chatter as Kyle entered the Genesis Systems maintenance facility. She was already at her workstation, organizing cleaning supplies with practiced efficiency. Her dark hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail, and her maintenance uniform was as worn as Kyle's own.
"Morning, Maya," Kyle said, grabbing his supply cart. "You're here early."
"Couldn't sleep." Maya's expression was troubled as she handed him a spray bottle. "I heard something yesterday... about the wages."
Kyle's stomach dropped. "What about them?"
Maya glanced around nervously before lowering her voice. "Johnson's planning to cut them. Again. Twenty percent this time."
"Twenty percent?" Kyle's voice cracked. "But we're barely surviving as it is!"
"I know, I know." Maya's hands clenched into fists. "It's not fair, Kyle. It's not our fault we can't use the system. We work just as hard as anyone else, maybe harder. Why should we suffer because we weren't born compatible?"
Kyle let out a bitter laugh. "Because they can get away with it. What are we going to do, strike? There are thousands of people like us who would take our jobs in a heartbeat. We're expendable, Maya. We always have been."
"But don't you think—"
"No." Kyle's voice was flat. "I don't think. Thinking leads to hoping, and hoping leads to disappointment. We are what we are."
Maya was quiet for a moment, then asked softly, "What would you do, Kyle? If you had powers, I mean. If you could use the system like everyone else?"
Kyle paused, his hand tightening on the cart handle. For just a moment, he allowed himself to imagine it—having stats, abilities, being someone who mattered. "I'd live a better life," he said finally. "Maybe have enough food, a real apartment. Maybe people would look at me and see a person instead of... this."
"That's not too much to ask for," Maya said gently.
"It doesn't matter." Kyle shook his head. "It's never going to happen. The system chooses who it chooses, and it didn't choose me. Better to stop daydreaming and focus on what's real."
Maya looked like she wanted to argue, but Kyle was already moving away. He couldn't afford to indulge in fantasies. Reality was harsh enough without adding the weight of impossible dreams.
"Kyle," his supervisor called from across the room. "Lab Seven needs a deep clean. Equipment maintenance ran late, so you'll have full access to the restricted areas. Don't touch anything you're not supposed to."
Kyle nodded and headed toward the elevator. Lab Seven was in the research sector, where they developed new AI interfaces and studied the strange energy that had changed the world. It was also where Kyle felt most out of place—surrounded by technology he could never use, research he could never participate in.
---
The lab was eerily quiet when Kyle arrived. Most of the equipment was powered down for maintenance, casting strange shadows across the sterile white walls. Kyle methodically began his work, wiping down surfaces and emptying trash bins, trying to ignore the complex diagrams and readouts that covered every screen.
He was cleaning near the back rooms when he heard voices. Kyle froze, listening carefully. The lab was supposed to be empty during maintenance.
"...should be enough to destabilize the entire sector," a voice was saying. It was low, urgent, and unfamiliar.
Kyle crept closer to the doorway, peering around the corner. Inside the room, a man in a dark coat was hunched over a complex-looking device, his fingers moving rapidly across a holographic interface. The man's face was hidden, but Kyle could see the distinctive blue glow of an advanced AI system around his temples.
"Once this spreads through the ventilation, the whole building will—"
The man suddenly looked up, his eyes meeting Kyle's. For a moment, they stared at each other in shocked silence.
"Hey!" the man shouted, his hand moving to something at his belt. "You're not supposed to be here!"
Kyle stumbled backward as the man raised what looked like a weapon. "Wait, I'm just—"
The energy blast missed Kyle by inches, but it struck a large containment unit behind him. Immediately, alarms began blaring throughout the facility, and a mechanical voice announced: "Containment breach in Lab Seven. Lockdown initiated."
The man cursed and ran for the exit, pushing past Kyle roughly. But Kyle barely noticed—his attention was focused on the containment unit, which was now cracked and leaking a thick, red smoke.
"No, no, no," Kyle whispered, backing away from the spreading cloud. But the ventilation system was already pulling the smoke through the room, and he could feel it burning his lungs with each breath.
The smoke seemed to have a life of its own, reaching for him with tendrils that moved against the air currents. Kyle tried to run, but his legs were suddenly heavy, unresponsive. His vision blurred, and his body felt like it was being torn apart from the inside.
"Help," he gasped, but the word came out as barely a whisper. The facility's emergency systems were sealed—no one was coming.
As Kyle collapsed to his knees, struggling to breathe, something impossible happened. A translucent blue screen materialized in front of him, floating in the air like the AI interfaces he'd seen countless times but never experienced.
The text was clear, despite his failing vision:
EMERGENCY PROTOCOL ACTIVATED
COMPATIBLE HOST DETECTED
DO YOU ACCEPT THE SYSTEM?
[YES] [NO]
Kyle's hand trembled as he reached toward the screen. This had to be a hallucination, a symptom of whatever toxin he was breathing. But what if it wasn't? What if this was his one chance?
With the last of his strength, Kyle pressed [YES].
The world went dark.