Joe stepped off the train, the rhythmic clatter of its wheels fading into the distance as the city swallowed him whole. The air was heavy, laced with the acrid tang of pollution and the faint, unrelenting stench of decay. Reglos had always felt suffocating, but after the day he’d endured, the city seemed more oppressive than ever. His head throbbed from the strain of his interview—hours of forced smiles, rehearsed optimism, and the stifling weight of thinly veiled condescension from people who had no idea what desperation tasted like.

The skyline loomed ahead, jagged towers piercing the ashen sky like the gnarled fingers of a dying giant. Reglos was a city in the heart of the Imperium, nestled deep within the sprawling landmass they called their empire. It held no strategic or military significance, and the indifference showed. The streets were cracked and littered with trash, grimy streams of runoff pooling in gutters that hadn’t seen maintenance in decades. The sidewalks were a stage for hollow-eyed wanderers—some clutching bottles, others injecting solace into their veins. Their faces bore the resignation of people with no future, no jobs, and often, no food.

The Imperium itself was rich, as wealthy and indulgent as any monarchy could be, but Reglos had none of that splendor. Here, strength was the only currency—strength to take what you wanted, to seize it from others by brute force. And for a city like Reglos, strength had been beaten out of it long ago.

Joe’s boots crunched against scattered shards of broken glass as he turned down a narrow alley. This place hadn’t always been like this, or so the older generations claimed. Sixty years ago, the Imperium had stormed down from the north, their forces spilling out of Fandheim, the capital. The attack had been swift and brutal. Reglos, with its open plains and unprotected borders, fell in days. Fandheim, by contrast, was a fortress—a city nestled by the sea and shielded by impenetrable mountains. It was the Imperium’s jewel, home to the Dinkins Corporation and its labyrinthine industries.

But while Fandheim basked in its glory, Reglos became little more than a supply hub, its people forced to toil for the war machine that crushed them. Most residents scraped by, surviving just enough to keep the capital fed and armed. Dreams here weren’t about thriving; they were about escaping—escaping this broken city and finding a way to Fandheim, where life might hold some semblance of meaning.

There were only two ways out of Reglos. The first was through sheer excellence. You had to be exceptional at what you did, a prodigy among millions. That was the path Joe had chosen. With two PhDs—one in physics, the other in biology—he had devoted his life to being the best. From grueling years of study to relentless self-discipline, he had poured everything into the hope that one day, some company in Fandheim would notice him. Yet, despite his brilliance, he couldn’t seem to keep his life together. His intelligence was undeniable, but it hadn’t translated into success. Instead, he was trapped in this decaying city, fighting to claw his way out with every ounce of effort he could muster.

The second way to escape Reglos was far simpler but infinitely more dangerous: joining the military. Enlisting offered a fast track to the capital for those who survived. But survival was far from guaranteed. The Imperium was always at war, its armies stretching across continents in a relentless campaign of conquest. Those who joined often died before they ever glimpsed Fandheim’s gates.

Joe could never understand why anyone would choose that path, yet his fiancée, Zera, had. She was a military doctor, stationed on the frontlines of the Imperium’s ongoing wars. Her decision haunted him, a constant source of unease that he couldn’t shake.

They had met at university, in their first biology class. Joe had been studying biology while Zera pursued medicine. She was brilliant, perhaps the only person he had ever met who rivaled his intellect. But where Joe was methodical and obsessive, Zera was instinctive and confident. She didn’t share his tireless work ethic, yet everything seemed to come effortlessly to her. Professors adored her, classmates admired her, and opportunities seemed to fall into her lap.

When she graduated, the choice had been stark: remain in Reglos as a doctor, condemned to a life of endless struggle, or join the military and earn the chance to work in Fandheim one day. She had chosen the latter without hesitation, a choice Joe had never fully accepted. He couldn’t fathom risking everything for the Imperium’s wars, for a system that had ruined so many lives.

He pushed open the rusted gate of their apartment complex, the creak of metal a familiar sound that grated against his nerves. The building was a crumbling monument to neglect, its once-bright paint faded to a dull gray. Their apartment was on the third floor, a cramped, dilapidated space that felt more like a cage than a home.

Joe unlocked the door and stepped inside, greeted by the faint scent of stale coffee and the hum of the small generator that kept their lights flickering. The space was barely large enough for the two of them, the walls adorned with peeling wallpaper and water stains that marked years of leaks. When I stepped into the room, Zera leaped up from the worn-out couch and threw her arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug. Her warmth was comforting, though her grip suggested she had been worried sick.

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“I heard what happened! Are you all right? You’re not hurt, right?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

I blinked, confused. “Uh, yeah… I mean, the interview wasn’t great, but it’s not like they attacked me or anything.”

Zera pulled back, her brow furrowing in disbelief. “What?” she asked, her voice sharp with confusion. Then, as realization dawned, she let out a breath and her shoulders eased slightly. “No, Joe, I mean the attack. Didn’t you hear about it? The Resistance bombed a shopping square in Fandheim earlier today. There were a lot of casualties.”

My stomach twisted, not from fear but from guilt. I hadn’t even noticed. “Oh… no, I didn’t hear about that,” I admitted, scratching the back of my neck.

Zera gave me an exasperated look but didn’t press further. “I was so worried about you, Joe! And you were oblivious,” she said with a half-smile, the tension in her voice easing. “Anyway, maybe this will force the King to finally attack Leafheim. If that happens, it could be my chance to get transferred to Fandheim.”

Leafheim was a thorn in the Imperium’s side—a major stronghold of the Resistance and a city of equal strategic importance to Fandheim. Perched on the opposite side of the sea, it had resisted every attempt by the Imperium to take it.

“Oh… I see,” I said, unsure what else to say. My stomach growled loudly, breaking the moment. “Have they already asked you to go?”

Zera shook her head and smirked. “Not yet. But I’m sure the higher-ups are already making plans.” She motioned toward the tiny kitchen. “Enough about that. Let’s focus on something positive. Tell me about the interview! Did they already offer you millions so we can finally buy a house? I’ve been thinking about interior decorations, and I have so many ideas!”

She eagerly pulled out her tablet and began scrolling through pictures of houseplants and furniture that looked like they belonged in the homes of the wealthy elite. I forced a smile, knowing that even on my best day, I couldn’t afford anything she was showing me. Still, I told her about the interview—everything except the part where I was late. Again.

Zera wasn’t surprised. “Interviews in the capital are always tough,” she said, stirring a pot on the stove. “Especially if you’re an outsider.”

The aroma of onion soup filled the room, mingling with the earthy scent of boiled vegetables. It was simple fare—the kind of meal everyone in Reglos ate. Meat was a luxury reserved for the rich, and we were far from that. We sat down at the small, wobbly table and started eating in silence, the comforting warmth of the soup offsetting the cold tension of the day.

Halfway through the meal, the phone rang. Zera stood up to answer it. Her expression shifted as she listened, first to surprise, then to shock. My heart sank, and I clenched my spoon. The military, I thought bitterly. It had to be the military.

But when Zera turned to me, she handed me the phone instead. “Joe, it’s for you.”

I froze. “For me?”

She nodded, her brow creased in confusion. Slowly, I stood and took the phone. “Hello, this is Joe Falks. How can I help you?”

A cold, sharp voice responded. “Do you dislike your academic titles, or do you simply not respect them enough to use them in your introduction?”

My stomach dropped. “Dr. Mool,” I stammered. No one had ever called me back this quickly. “Uh, you know, my titles aren’t that important to me.” I cleared my throat. “Dr. Mool! So nice to hear from you. I hope you’re having a good evening. How can I help you?”

“I’ll tell you how,” she said briskly. “You can start tomorrow at 7 a.m. in my lab. It’s located at 71.173. Your apartment will be ready, and we’ll sign the contract upon your arrival. You’ll work for me for three months. After that, we’ll see how it goes.”

My jaw nearly hit the floor. “That… that sounds amazing! Thank you! Yes, I can head back to the capital tonight.” My voice was shaking.

“Good. I’ll send you an email in about an hour with some results. Look them over; I want your thoughts first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, of course—”

The line went dead before I could finish.

I turned around, the phone still in my hand, and saw Zera standing there, her eyes wide with excitement. “What was that about, Joe? Did you get the job?”

“I think… I think I did,” I said, the words feeling surreal. “But I have to head back to the capital tonight.”

Zera squealed in excitement, darting to the wardrobe and pulling out a bag before I could stop her. She began throwing clothes into it with the energy of someone who’d just won the lottery.

“Zera, wait,” I said, trying to grab her arm. “Shouldn’t we celebrate first? Don’t we still have a bottle of wine?”

“Joe!” she scolded, wagging a finger at me. “You cannot be late on your first day!”

“Come on,” I said with a grin. “One night without sleep won’t kill me.”

She hesitated, then sighed and relented. “Fine, but only because I want to hear more about this Dr. Mool. Does she look as good as me?“

We opened the wine and sat back down at the table, talking late into the night. Zera’s excitement was infectious. We dreamed about the life we could build if this job turned into something real—about leaving Reglos for good, about finally having the security we both wanted.

For the first time in what felt like forever, hope flickered in the dim light of our small apartment.