Hours had passed since Gary had witnessed the start of Samson Graves’ attempt to kill the Shadowshrike, but his mind was still being carried along by those images and the possible outcomes of the fight. He could barely wait to get home and watch the battle in full, but then again, if he was exceptionally lucky, he wouldn’t be going home at all.

  “Gary?!”

  The sharp voice failed to penetrate his reverie. Gary stood manning the sizzling grill, his narrowed eyes transfixed on the holographic screen outside the Burger Bin. The game highlights had finished and now the screen was announcing the count down to this year’s lottery results. Winners would be announced within the next two hours and Gary was sure that this time his name would be among the chosen.

  "Come on, baby," Gary muttered through a grease-stained grin, flipping burgers with barely a glance at the grill before looking back at the holo screen. The aroma of cooking meat wafted through the air, mingling with the sounds of sizzling grease and the incessant hum of the food synthesizers. He seasoned the patties with a pinch of salt, then scooped them to the back of the grill, turning to grab a few more fresh patties.

  “Gary you doink, pull your finger out of your ass and get those burgers done!”

  Gonzo, his beefy, balding manager, barked orders through the service window of the kitchen, wiping sweat off his brow as he squinted through foggy glasses. Gary raised his spatula in acknowledgement, moving to the prep counter and putting together a range of burgers with practiced ease.

  He slid the seasoned patties onto buns, adorned with crisp, genetically engineered lettuce and tomatoes, an unhealthy dollop of tomato sauce and mayonnaise, and red onions. He crafted each burger on autopilot, his fingers deftly moving through motions he’d performed a million times before.

  “Clock’s ticking, Gary!” Gonzo barked.

  Gary continued to work at his usual speed, his mind still throwing up imagined scenarios. He saw himself winning the lottery, being interviewed by the local new station by Kelly Longworth, the attractive blonde reporter that frequently made appearances in his daydreams. Gary imagined what it would be like to take his first step on that alien vista, drawing his first breath through fabricated lungs.

  He could track down Samson Graves, talk to the man in person, maybe even get some hunting tips.

  “Gary?!”

  “Yeah, I’m on it, boss,” he moaned, turning, and placing the burgers into their respective baskets. He moved over to the fryer and dished out fistfuls of fries to each of the baskets, then walked them over to Gonzo and slid them through the service window.

  “Swear to God,” Gonzo said, “I swear…if I could find someone else to work for ten bucks an hour…”

  The older man waddled away, his expression shifting from anger to something approximating cordiality as he dropped off the burgers to waiting customers. His barbs didn’t affect Gary in the slightest. He knew what this job was. A placeholder, that’s all. Just a dead-end job in a dead-end part of the city to keep Gary afloat until the lottery came in. And it would come in, he was sure of it. Sooner or later…

  The dinner rush abated, and Gary collapsed onto a grime-stained stool. Checking his wrist-mounted holo-display, he sighed; it was time. The lottery was minutes away from being announced and despite the long hours he’d worked today, Gary’s heart was practically galloping in anticipation.

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  The countdown clock showed at the center of holo screen, as it would be doing for millions of other hopefuls across the planet. Unlike most opportunities in the modern world, the lottery was open to anyone, provided you could come up with the thousand credit entry fee. Status, skill, and experience didn’t matter at all when it came to the lottery, and that was precisely what Gary was banking on.

  Exact numbers weren’t publicly available, but the most popular news feeds insisted that there were between eighty to a hundred million people enrolled in the national lottery as it currently stood. The good news was that Gary had just as much chance as anyone else of making the cut. The bad news was that his chance of winning was around one in ten million.

  “Come on you good thing,” he muttered under his breath, trying by will alone to influence the outcome.

  The countdown stopped and ten names showed up on the display. He read, starting at the top and working his way down to the very last name. It wasn’t there. No Gary Alastor, just the names of ten lucky souls chosen at random and plucked from their mundane lives while he and everyone else wallowed in their mediocre existences.

  “Shit!” he fumed, knocking an empty soda can off the counter. “Shitting shitburgers!”

  His heartbeat thudded in his head and Gary’s skin felt prickly all over. He was infuriated, mad at the universe and everyone in it. He’d convinced himself that tomorrow he wouldn’t need to come into work, wouldn’t need to flip burgers at this crappy burger joint. But all that had just gone up in smoke.

  Ten years.

  Ten chances.

  He’d never be able to scrape together enough credits to try a second time. Even if he could manage it, that would probably take twenty or thirty years. He’d be an old man.

  “This is rigged,” he spat, grabbing his jacket, and heading through the back of the kitchen to the alleyway outside.

  Jini turned as he passed by, smiling and waving.

  “Thanks for the extra pickle today, Gaz,” she offered, her smile turning sour as he walked past without a word. “Gary?!”

  As he headed out the door Gonzo called to him, but Gary’s ears were thrumming with fury and all he heard was the sound of his own failure, the future misery he’d have to endure now that his dreams were shattered.

  He was out the door within moments and walking through the city streets, jaw clenched and mind whirring. He walked for thirty minutes before his head had cooled enough to wonder where on earth he was. Gary looked around, staring at unfamiliar streets in a part of town he rarely entered. It wasn’t scrag territory, but he knew enough not to go wandering outside his normal patch.

  He tapped his wrist unit and brought up a map, finding, to his surprise, an illuminated message symbol on the top right corner of the display. Intrigued, he tapped the green envelope, and a message displayed.

  Congratulations, Gary Astor, due to a lottery disqualification, your entry has been drawn, and you have been accepted into the great game. Please accept receipt of this message within the next 60 minutes or the offer will be rescinded.

  Gary’s head nearly exploded. He blinked, quickly re-reading the message and checking the government icon to ensure it wasn’t a scam. Everything looked legit. Fumbling, suddenly sweating profusely, he checked the original time of the message. It must have come through moments after the original lottery announcement.

  “Come on!” he said, quickly calculating how much time he’d spent wandering.

  He tapped the accept button and the message indicated that his acceptance had been sent to the Artemis Ministry. Gary stood staring at his display, breathing in and out, trying to calm himself.

  Was this real?

  Had he actually won the lottery?

  Was he going to…

  Another message came through from the Ministry. He tapped on his display with trembling fingers.

  Thank you for your confirmation, Gary Astor. Your place has been reserved, and you have twenty-four hours to report to your nearest Ministry hub. No spare clothing or other items will be required as your body will be placed into stasis for the duration of your time on Artemis. Once you have entered the transit window a Ministry agent will be dispatched to catalogue and secure your belongings. These will be released to you upon your return, along with a generous stipend for the remainder of your life.

  He wanted to shout, to scream with joy. Instead, the wary gazes of several of the locals convinced him to find the quickest path to the nearest Ministry hub.