What happens when you discover an unsettling proposition: you were going to die soon?
Would you live the rest of your life to the fullest, doing what you always wanted to do, like robbing a bank?
Or would you give in to the despair of the situation?
But some people got neither choices.
---
A vagrant dressed in tattered clothes, clothes that merely served as a suggestion. The vagrant was a frail-looking young man with pale skin caked in dust, sunken eyes, and dark circles around them.
His hair was coated in dust so thick the original color was non-existent. Even his eyebrows and eyelashes were covered in dust.
And before you come at him about basic human decency called bathing, you have to understand that water was a prized commodity that he dare not use to wash his face.
And most people would probably be thinking "Why not bath under rain then?". And to those people, Alistair would scoff.
'Privileged scum'. He'd think.
There was no such thing as rain underground, whatever that word "rain" even meant.
Nevertheless, being the innovative human he was, he had repeatedly struck the steel pipes littering the walls and ceilings. Using the gushing water to bath, one time he got lucky and even got hot water.
On one occasion he was caught and taken to jail, and to his utter bewilderment, he was given free food and water.
He was reluctant to eat, remembering the words of the elders "In this world, nothing is obtained for free".
After snooping around, he realized the system: if he attacked the pipes delivering water to the Upside— the surface world, he would be detained, and in detention, he would be given free food and water.
The sheriff got to do their job, and he got food and water.
It was a win-win situation.
But he then went ahead and ruined it with his foolishness, the reports about him were in abundance, which eventually frustrated the sheriffs.
They released a poster where his face was drawn, stating that if he was seen in any position incriminating him with the pipes, he should be beaten on the spot before being dragged to the station.
Being among the few that could read, ahem, recognize a few words, Alistair stayed away from the pipes.
But then a local gang member came up with an idea, and they collaborated with Alistair. They attacked some pipes, while they roughed Alistair up to make the scene look believable.
However, the scheme fell through when Alistair's body was dry, yet the people dragging him along had splashes of mud on their clothes.
He could still hear the words of the sheriff: "It seems their height isn't the only thing that's stunted, even their brain is".
'Why am I recalling my foolish actions of the past?'. Alistair shook his head; maybe this was the legendary "life flashing before the eyes."
The vagrant was currently hunched over, clutching a small light yellow orb, a piece of actual fresh fruit.
He ran a thumb over its smooth, cool skin, admiring the rich, impossible color. It had cost all of his savings— not that he had much either, but today was a special day.
No, no, no, it wasn't his birthday, you see. His life was coming to an end.
And no, it isn't suicide.
'I mean, I probably should.' No one cared what happened to him anyway.
He paused, a familiar anxiety causing him to check his wrist. He did this for the twentieth time today, checking for the inevitable. And there it was, not the empty patch of pale skin he was used to.
00:45:21
The pulsing, red digital display had materialized. Alistair stared at the glowing numbers, his breath catching in his throat.
He couldn't help but rub the area around his right eye, where his birthmark, VII, was located.
"Well". He whispered, a dry bitter sound. "That's it then."
He raised the yellow fruit, savoring the moment before taking a massive deliberate bite through the peel and all.
"This is it, Alistair." He murmured, chewing quickly. "Enjoy your last forty-five min—"
He paused, his face scrunching up in a terrible grimace. The flavor was an intense, aggressive sourness that felt like scraping his tongue raw. It was the furthest thing from the sweet fantasy he had imagined.
"Ugh! So disgusting!". He muttered, forcing himself to chew and swallow the expensive pulp. "I should have just bought three synth-ale packs instead, huh? Such a scam!"
It wasn't exactly new to him; he was scammed all the time. Unlike the stereotype swirling around that slum rats were smart, he was as dumb as a dead Ox— he smelt as one too.
He took another wretched sour bite, staring straight ahead at the station across from him.
Alistair's mouth was slick with saliva, and his teeth felt fuzzy from the intense acid of the fresh fruit known as lemon.
"Tsk. That stupid poster swore fresh fruits were sweet."
'All maybe I misread'. Alistair shrugged, who knows?.
For a moment he sat there, still recovering from the abominable sourness and the irritation around the conners of his lips. Then following his usual anxiety, he checked his wrist.
00:40:42
'Forty minutes until my interview'.
But this wasn't an ordinary interview, this was an interview that would very much guarantee his death.
---
In the year 1777, archaeologists made a huge discovery: they found large, ancient ruins underneath their country, it was more like an undercity.
The discovery was first made when a group of children mistakenly unsealed an ancient well, a cold breeze then swept from the well and made itself known on all the corners of the earth.
Researchers, attempting to discover where the wind originated, were led to the small village.
After the initial discoverers faced skepticism and ridicule, other countries began discreet private excavations, wary of finding nothing similar and facing public embarrassment.
But the same unsettling breeze swept past the world two other times, and each time, a new country was forced to admit they had unearthed an ancient structure.
When the rest of the world heard the confirmations, they begun excavating their own cities and, lo and behold, the same ruins were in every country.
It was like one giant, interconnected underground city spanning the entire globe.
The discovery of the undercity dominated the news, until people started to complain of seeing a digital timer materialize on their wrists.
Initially, the world was alarmed, but scientists quickly offered an explanation: the timers were most likely a side effect of the mysterious cold breeze sweeping across the planet.
Trusting the scientific community, the people were largely convinced and decided to ignore the inexplicable countdown.
But soon, the first timer hit zero, and the people simply... Died.