After what felt like ages, stuck in the deep dark tunnel, Callia heard the hatch creak above her head. Sand and gravel fell in her eye, as Kara’s head peeked out behind the metal hatch of the basement. Scrutinizing her as she stood below her personal surgeon.

  Callia coughed as the dust worked its way into her throat. She waved the dust away. “Took you long enough, doctor.”

  Kara smiled at her.

  “Hmm, I kept you down here a few minutes more to make sure you suffered.” Callia frowned in response, motioning to the ladder. “I’m joking. The client just left. Mechanical amputation, they got sick of the model they used for an arm.”

  “Neat. But hopefully I never lose my arm for something cybernetic prosthetic.”

  “Everyone loses a limb or two in violent lines of work.” Kara said. “Hurry up, now.”

  The dog tag she picked up clinked in her pocket. She rested one hand on the ladder and stuck her feet between the corrosive rungs, to offer ample stability. Then she climbed up at a snails pace. She stuck her head out of the hole.

  “Ew, look at all that muck and grime on you. I recommend, you take a bath, but the water is being put out for the next few hours.”

  Callia blinked. “Water’s out?”

  Kara made exasperated noises. “It happens from time to time, you know I operate in a slum don’t you, now get out of that hole before I become paranoid. Don't want mutant critters to sneak in.”

  Callia closed the hatch as she got out. Making sure it was closed airtight, she’d hate to see those sniveling abominations again.

  “Very well then, my little dog, follow me, will you?”

  Callia bit her lip. Fury sparked inside. She couldn’t control it–her temper was random, erratic, problematic. Of course, the doctor was just messing with her, but violent impulses plagued her mind. “Grrr… I have human rights, you know.”

  Kara snorted. “Human rights? Here, on this world. The only you right you possess, is how valuable you fit into the system. You’ve been out in the slum for a day. Tell me, did you like what you saw?

  The amnesiac took a breath “No, it was–”

  “Unpleasant? Inhuman? Horrific? Hard?” she cut her off, filling in the blanks. “Well, get used to it, because it is so much worse, once you get into it.”

  She followed Kara, taking heavy breaths. She needed to figure out why she snapped like this. What she did to that alien girl, still didn't sit right with her conscience.

  They came to a narrow corridor, that connected a building to the rear of the clinic. Rusting walls. Flickering lights. Decay everywhere. Inside, it smelled like burnt wiring and more chemicals.

  “What’s that smell?” Callia asked, her nose scrunching.

  “Stimlab a building away, a manufacturing lab for one of the gangs. Unfortunately the roof is full of holes, you’ll have to deal with this, I know I have to.”

  At the end of the corridor, four doors resided. Kara opened the one at the very end. Turning the knob of the simple doorway, moving inside the room. Everything within appeared spartan, old and barely patched together—almost as if it wasn’t meant to be used. No monitor, no personal computer. Not even a book.

  “Here, you can stay here for a while until you…figure out where to go from here.” She pointed at everything of interest. “I know it’s not much, but you’re in a precarious situation. Miss Callia. You should be thankful.”

  Callia realized she was frowning. She forced a smile on her face. It made her look psychotic more than anything else. That’s what the mirror told her atleast. “This room—is it unoccupied??”

  “Mostly, I usually let clients rest here, if there is a second surgery on the way or an accident occurs,” Callia furrowed her brows. “Now, don’t worry about the bed, the sheets, the blankets and the duvet’s in the closet all clean. Wouldn’t risk infections or diseases spreading.”

  That still left some concerns for Callia. Infections were known to mutate and adapt to the environment, now that she thought about it, there were probably diseases on the planet her body was unfit to handle.

  “Do you have medicine, just in case I get sick?”

  Kara looked like she wanted to die. “Are you sick? That would be very, bad for me. Who knows what dirty diseases you could’ve brought from space.”

  “No, it remains a hypothetical, just wanted some assurance.”

  The doctor breathed a sigh of relief, she rubbed her neck, a remnant of an itch, it was now that Callia took a really long look at her.

  Her platinum blonde hair was tied up into two pigtails. She had a choker on her neck, lipstick to accentuate her full lips, and shorts for whatever reason a doctor would even wear one. She gave off a cutesy vibe instead of a mature presence you’d expect from a health professional.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  She looked away before curiosity turned into something titilating. She stared at the double bed. It was run-down but functional, an image flashed in her head. A barracks. Metal bunk beds lined up like a mass funeral. Muddy boots put in a row, next t a locker. A shout, someone screaming and the coming of gunshots echoing in her head. Blood pooling beneath her feet. Someone’s brain blown out.

  “Hey! Hey! Calm down, will you?”

  Callia shook herself. The purplish mist crackled—electric, involuntary, violent. Her powers were surging, without any input, not too different from a muscle spasm.

  She tried easing up.

  “I’m sorry, it happens occasionally.” she pleaded. “Don’t kick me out, please, I…I have no proper control.”

  “Argh,” Kara groaned. “I’m really going to put you out on a leash. If you keep doing this, I don’t want you to turn into my problem.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m unstable…”

  

   — System recommends immediate class selection. — Time Remaining:

  “Now, what?” Kara asked.

  “Huh?” Callia responded dazed.

  “You’re staring into empty space. Was that the system? Or at least the local one?”

  What happens if she ignores it? It had given her a shitty suggestion all morning, and no, she didn’t want to be a fucking Moon Spelunker. She wanted something tangible meaningful to her.

  The amnesiac nodded. “It’s put me on some timer, to pick a class.”

  “That could also explain, why you’re having outbursts.” the doctor approached Callia putting her hands on her shoulders. Looked her dead in the eyes. “Look, on this planet, if you’re sentient, and you don’t abide by the system, things get bad—apocalyptically bad for the individual. Trust me, make the choice ASAP, you don’t want it to decide for you.”

  "But my options, they are so horrendously bad. It keeps on giving me horrible options. "

  "Like what?"

  The system shoved a list of classes in her face.

  

  

  

  

  

  

  “It changes things, every hour, keeps giving me bullshit paths. Grime scraper, Gutter watcher, shuttle runner.” Callia tapped her face lightly, hoping it would be switching things up. “I’m a fighter, why can’t I choose, a fighting class, I was made to kill, I think at least?”

  “You’re thinking about this the wrong way. The system assigns appropriate classes to every individual. Everyone started with a lower class, before switching, every major class you can switch once a year if you prostrate yourself to the system long enough. It’s never permanent. I started out with something simple, you want to guess?”

  Callia jerked her brain about. “Um…dentist.”

  “No, dishwashing! Can you believe that, though it was only for a month before I took an interest in medicine and the system pushed me that way. When the switch happened, I was thrown into becoming an assistant, that worked for two, now I’m here after doing nursing for a while.”

  Callia groaned. “I can’t spend years here, throttling, I’m not going to reset my age.”

  “Get used to it or suffer.” Kara turned, ready to spin around. "Also, you can do whatever ever you want, as long as you can process TP."

  Callia couldn’t bring herself to trust this thing that governed this world. It all felt like one big trap, the only winning move might be not to play.

  “If you really don’t know what to do, I’ll veer you in the right position, how does my little [morgue cleaner]

  Callia rolled her eyes. “Suspiciously hedonistic, and sadistic.”

  “Hedonistic? Did it ask you to be a [pole dancer]

  “Please stop, you’re obnoxious, not endearing.”

  “Whatever.”

  Kara walked off.

  Callia stopped Kara before she resigned her to the bleak and gray room. "Wait," Callia halted before retreating into the drab room. "Tell me—are there any hidden methods for exploiting this this moronic system? Some way to get a better class?"

  The doctor looked concerned for a moment, lowered her voice. “You don’t know it, do you. There is an unwritten rule not to critique the system without aim. Keep doing it and you’ll suffer karmic backlash. ”

  “That’s unfair. ”

  “That’s life, just how some people start with shitty classes and other’s get blessed like kings. It is what it is.”

  "No, it can’t be. It’s either artificial, or based on random number generation from arbitrary values to keep the system in place."

  Kara walked away, not another word escaped her lips.

  Callia stood alone, her gaze fixed on the sterile walls of her ‘humble’ abode. Frustration gnawed at her mind—her psychic powers reacted to the growing tension, but she kept her thoughts clear. For now." Objects in the room started levitating.

  “The System, what a fucking stupid–”

  An electric shock, traveled like lightning from the ends of her toe to the upper part of her thigh. Pain shot through her, and she lost her balance, but she steadied herself almost immediately, calculating the source of the shock.

  “What the hell?”

  [Goodrift: You were warned. Even I don’t control the unwritten rules here. Learn to play nice, or you'll regret it.]

  “Oh piss off.”

  [Careful, remember who blessed you with a can of energy]

  So it was true then. The system indeed could become triggered, her powers always went wild after she experienced that frustration. When she directed it to the things in this world. If so, why were her emotions reacting similar, did the system nudge her powers to react in that manner.

  “Okay, I apologize. Goodrift?”

  [That sounded like a question, not an answer. I've got priorities, and my hardware's second-rate. Goodbye.]

  “Not arguing. But wait. Before you abandon me again. Goodrift. How do I get a better class.”

  [Live a little. You have two days at least.]

  “And what’s the penalty.”

  [You get stuck with whatever the local system assigns, you. For awhile. That’s me, and ooh, I have so many funny, ideas. You landed here for a reason Callia, don’t squander your time. Or I’m going to make you dance. ????′▽`) AND PLEASE DON'T CONTACT THE CENTRAL DIRECTIVE AGAIN, I DON'T LIKE THE ATTENTION.]

  The good rift AI disappeared, leaving her alone in her thoughts again. This confirmed one thing. This system was subdivided by the sum of different administrative parts. What would happen hypothetically if she left the Jurisdiction of Goodrift, would the other AIs react accordingly or differently?

  She took the dog tag out of her pocket, staring at the name. She needed to determine an away to get back whatever it was she lost.