Callia woke on some kind of crumbling rooftop, wrapped in a stiff, grimy coat, she had gotten from a trash canister, it smelled like rust and old oil. Her ribs were aching from sleeping on the uneven concrete, and her stomach was still howling in hunger. She had managed to haggle a piece of her hair for a few buns last night, red hair wasn’t common around here. She just hoped the lady she offered it wouldn’t end up stringing it to a doll and cursing her with it.

  She stared up at the broken moon, its shattered shards all reflecting a glint of light. Callia stood up. It was time to inquire information directly. Or succumb to her fate as a possible illegal and well a bum.

  She stared down the rooftop. The first thing she saw was a kid trying to scam passerby, while his comrade-in-arms would attempt to pickpocket the unassuming victim. They didn’t get very far, the moment a drone came around the corner, they scooted. Red lights, flashed on the drone’s chassis as it gave pursuit, leaving the victim dumbfounded.

  Callia looked away. It wasn’t her duty to police the children of the slums.

  Her memory was still foggy, and her head was throbbing. Whatever the system thing had done to her, had fucked up her brain, her skull was glitching, unreadable notifications kept flashing sporadically behind her eyelids to the front of it. Irritating her to no end.

  [ERROR: 3091-!t#*~]

  [%@^%&[]**

  [DFP-X48]

  [ALERT: Alert

  **[-]%)(! (SYNCHRONIZATION FAILURE) (1022#T)**

  “Shit,” she sighed, she needed to stop swearing, it was a bad habit, she couldn’t let go of…

  Turning her attention to a crowd of individuals below, they stood next to an old rusted-out vending terminal, a green smiley waved in animation. “Goodrift System dispenser.” displayed on top. The people lined up together in rows, all offering an outstretched prayer and whispering. "Oh faithful Goodrift, give us our daily needs.”

  Were they worshiping these digital entities?

  They all wanted something else from it. “Come on, come on, baby needs a stim… I need a stim” a junkie had said without shame or cause.

  “Let me eat today. Just today.” An old man begged. She could understand the old man’s plea for food; perhaps she would do the same.

  “Blessed be the randomizer, hallowed be its name… I need credits, more credits!”

  Callia watched as the machine started bouncing about, beeping, and then it dispensed.

  A needle filled with fluid for the junkie. A large metal coin shot toward the penniless woman, and a stale protein bar it gave the old man.

  It was the slot machine for the desperate.

  “Oh god,” And she was going to beg it. Her dignity had gone down the drain. She had gone from mysterious killer, to beggar, in the span of a few hours.

  She rubbed her face, why didn’t she play it nice, with the hot doctor, and her cute assistant, she nearly ‘manhandled’ she might have gotten a place to stay, maybe even something to pay off the debt.

  She exhaled, then climbed down the rooftop, down the balconies of whoever lived here. Then jogged towards it, scrubbing her hands together, waving to the system dispenser. In a half-assed prayer.

  “Uh…oh…goodrift, part-system, part-time vending machine, give me something to eat? Please?”

  The cracked screen flashed red, the green emoji turned into an angry devil, The machined started bouncing and processing, light flickered from the lowered dispenser and something fell then clunked forward.

  [Rolling. Rolling. Rolling.]

  ? ? ? ? ? ?

  [SYSTEM LOTTERY RESULT: UNLUCKY. TRY AGAIN NEVER. 24 hour Cooldown: starting for User Callia]

  Then- a loud bang. A dented can shot at her at high velocity, smashing into her face, she fell on her ass.

  “Ooof.”

  She grunted and picked up the dented can. There was indeed, some value to it. It was an energy drink, still filled with fluid. She took it, hardly grateful. She wanted something decent.

  “Man, fuck the system.” she said.

  She grunted, staggered. A ragged woman cackles behind her, voice like a rusted chainsaw.

  “HAH! System loves ya, sweetheart! It doesn’t get better than this.”

  She waved to the old woman and gave her a warm smile.

  “Yeah, I hate it too.”

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  She straightened herself. Her smile turned into a glare, and she stared the trolling machine down. She started walking, clicked open the can, and chugged down the liquid.It quenched her thirst, refreshing, a wave and a rush of energy erupted in her.

  The system had spoken.

  Drone enforces came around the corner, hovering for potential criminals. She scanned the street, one immediately moved towards her, its little zapper, staring at her.

  “Move along, citizen,” it said. “No loitering allowed.”

  Callia took this opportunity to flee and buzzed off. Into the next street to harass innocents there.

  She swore under her breath, as she ran off. Avoiding unnecessary complication.

  *****

  Her stomach cramps have eased. No thanks to the can. But she was still moving without an aim. She checked the weight of the pockets–loose change, an unused stim, which she picked from an emptied shipment, a cigarette, she wasn’t going to smoke.

  She eyed the food carts down; they were serving the most obnoxious and cheapened junk food available, they watched her like she was a ravenous stray dog, ready to claw at them. She ignored the vendors, the mismatched, clothing and her natural red hair, it was putting them on the edge.

  She lowered her eyes, then spotted something on the ground, a half-eaten hot dog safe in a container, still clean, but unsupervised.

  She weighed her options, there could be various reasons as to why they left it there. But her stomach was the master, not her. A modern medical facility would be able to clean any disease. To hell with dignity, she was desperate, she ran as quickly as she could. She grabbed it, tearing at it the chewed side and swallowed it whole.

  She nearly coughing up. Oversaturated with salt and sauce, the meat tasted fake, chewy like plant meat, synthetic and over-processed.

  She rubbed the thought out of her mind, out of the rest, perhaps it was time to start asking the locals.

  Across the street, a young woman was sitting on a crate, waving around, strangely colored flowers, in paper pots. Shouting at passers-by, “sentimental flower for a credit, it’s a credit, but it’ll make someone smile.”

  Her vocal advertising didn’t help much; most people simply didn’t care. Callia had some spare change in her pocket. Perhaps it was time to do a good deed for the day. As Callia walked over to her, she noticed her presence. Her sleeves were overly long for the heat. Her hands were trembling. She stiffened as Callia approached.

  She offered her the change in her pocket—it was several credits, she thought. The auburn-haired woman took it from her reluctantly. “O-oh, you want more than one flower?”

  “No, you can keep them, I wanted to ask you some questions.”

  “Oh, okay,” she said, nervous.

  The amnesiac introduced herself.

  "I’m new here," Callia said. Her voice rough and cautious. “You wouldn’t know where a vagabond might find some…employment, would you?”

  The girl flinched. P

  People weren’t kind around here. She seemed wary but frightened, like she was ready to bawl at any moment. As if Callia would take advantage of her.

  “Um…are you from off-world? The system doesn't let anyone in. You gotta wait for the system to give you a quest…” she murmured, her eyes darting all over, everywhere away from Callia’s gaze. “The system does’ like me very much, so I’ve never gotten one.”

  Callia perked up. It didn't take her much of a moment to deduce that she was from outside. Now, why would some people be exempt from participating in this? Did the ruling body of the world discriminate against a few undesirables?

  “That must suck.” Callia giggled awkwardly.

  “Y-Yeah.” she whispered, slowly becoming at ease. “Or, you can… y’know, work for the bosses."

  “Bosses?”

  “Warlords. Gangs. Mafia. Take your pick. They’ll take anyone.”

  Callia exhales, her head started hammering again. She suddenly staggered backwards, then gripped the flower girl's crate, her face coming into view beneath her.

  Hey… you don’t happen to know who I am, do you?” she asked desperately.

  The girl took a step back, climbing off the crate.Fear flickers in her eyes.

  “No. Please don’t hurt me,” she moaned.

  Something about the girl was irking her; she was hiding something. Her body was reacting on her own.

  A gust of hot air blew against the air. It lifted the girl's sleeve backward, and for half a second, Callia saw unnatural blue skin spreading underneath, reacting to the air.

  The young woman in front of her wasn’t human. Not entirely. A hybrid of some sort.

  Her body has sensed it, sought it out involuntarily. She didn’t know why but aliens, the thought irked her, made her angry.

  She grabbed her wrist quickly, “You have blue-skin?”

  The flower girl panicked. She dropped the flowers all on the ground and bolted, her feet slapped against the pavement.

  “Hey! Wait, your flowers.”

  Callia stared at the crushed flowers on the ground, her fingers twitched, she picked one up.

  She had just hurt someone innocent because she couldn’t control her impulses.

  “I’m an asshole, dammit…”

  The blue skin, it was something she recognized, a half memory of the past, she didn’t know why. More mysteries to be solved.

  [Pathetic! You can barely find work, and you’re already acting like a thug, harassing innocents.]

  “Get out of my head.”

  [You’re in my district, my rules. Sighs Honestly, you’re pathetic, so let me give you a boost.]

  Callia sat on the crate, staring at the crushed petals, ignoring the thing in her head. The petals were soft and fragile, they didn’t seem to grow the along flora of the streets. Something told her not much survived in the city. She’d have to make it up to the flower girl.

  Her HUD pinged again.

  [ SYSTEM ALERT: SURVIVAL QUEST – “YOU’RE COOKED”]

  You will not receive a second warning.

  Objectives:

  - Get Food – You’re running on fumes. Eat something.

  - Get Shelter – Find a place to stay before things get worse.

  - Get a Job – You need income. No more excuses.

  Time Limit: 24 Hours

  Failure Consequence: System-enforced survival measures activated.

  Quest Refinement System activated: Due to repeated irresponsibility, Callia is now under mandatory survival directives.]

  Callia gawked. “Wait, are you nannying me!” she shouted at the local system.

  [You’re doing absolutely horrible for a person of your caliber. Get moving, You’re acting like a bump in the road, and I guess I hate seeing potential wasted. It’s truly disgusting, also You're stinking up my district, that girl, is ostracized by this community which is why I don’t give her quests. You just disrupted her life, You silly outsider. I hope you find it in your heart to make amends.]

  Callia sunk her shoulders. The last thing she needed was moral guardian angel over her shoulder.

  There were a few credits still in her pocket. She exhaled, walking over to the vendor. She bought something akin to grilled stick meat. Mystery meat too, some kind of local Fauna. Hopefully it was no Soy lent green. The oil dripped down her fingers as she tasted it. Synthetic, smokey, slightly chemical and overly sweet meat.

  As she ate, she walked back in the direction from which she came. She needed to understand the power dynamics of this place.

  Who’s in power here?

  Who’s watching? Besides the system?

  Who’s hunting?

  Callia’s hands were tied. She had one connection. She hoped returning wouldn’t bite her in the ass She gulped everything down in a massive chew, chomping the last bite, and started sprinting toward the clinic.