It felt like slow motion. A sensation of momentary weightlessness as the limousine hung in the void. Having just barely secured my seatbelt, I frantically tried to swap out my new cosmetic suit for pieces of armor. Anything for a defensive buff.

Then there was the sickening plunge. A twisting in the pit of my gut. I braced myself as the limo tipped to one side, plummeting to the streets below.

The impact came with explosive force, concaving the side of the limo and flipping it over. The windows shattered, showering me with glass. My face slammed into something hard and my nose erupted in pain.

The limo slid across the pavement and spun on its roof, knocking over a streetlamp and careening into the corner of a building.

My head swam. Dim stars filled my vision.

I was upside down, hanging like a ragdoll from the lap belt. Drops of blood seeped from my face and spattered below.

Plip. Plip. Plip.

My nose. Pretty sure it’s broken.

Good thing I didn’t spring for a nose job.

No Essence loss. Or else I missed the notification in the chaos. Maybe that +10 boost to my Resistance stat made the difference. Silver lining.

Trembling, I reached for the buckle. That did the trick. Less adroitly than hoped, I tumbled from the suspended seat and landed on the glass-strewn roof.

There were no sirens. No emergency vehicles. No bystanders. No sign of the dram security bot. A city of ghosts.

I got up on my hands and knees and wiped my bloody nose with the back of my forearm, leaving a red stain on my tactical jacket. The wreckage smelled of smoke, burnt rubber, and petrol. Pretty convincing olfactory simulations.

Grabbing Monique’s phone, I dragged myself through a shattered window frame, glass scraping against my clothes. I rose on wobbly legs to survey the scene, get my bearings.

Royal Heights. Tall buildings rose all around me. Business. Residential. Not sure. The path of destruction from the smoking limo gashed the pristine cityscape. Rubble from the nearby building littered the ground.

Agh. What happened? Was it an error? A glitch in The Collective?

I pinched my nose to stop the flow of blood and cried out in pain. Definitely broken.

Then I heard a chime. No, a sustained tone. A yellow note–jarring in its contrast to the disorderly scene before me. A soothing, saccharine voice intonated over an unseen public address system.

Please seek shelter immediately. Inclement weather approaching.

Oh no.

Please seek shelter immediately. Inclement weather approaching.

There was a massive crack across the rapidly darkening sky. A blinding superbolt of lightning that left an afterimage in my enhanced retinas. Huh. Never saw that before in The Collective. And then drops of pink rain, alternately frigid and scalding, began to fall.

Clutching the phone and trying to staunch the bleeding from my fractured nose, I desperately looked around as the announcement played on repeat.

Please seek shelter immediately. Inclement weather approaching.

Too far from home. Where could I go to escape?

I ran for the nearest structure. A golden plaque announced this was the ‘Ivan IV building.’ I tugged on the ornate doors. Locked. I saw no place to scan my barcode. But was there a retinal scanner?

Searching… searching… There! Subtle, but there.

I lined my eyes up to the scanner and was met with a rude error noise.

Citizenship record not detected.

Dram!

I banged on the door. No response. Of course not. So I turned and ran across the street to another building. This one was apparently the ‘Hotel Caligula,’ with suggestive marble busts abutting the entrance. It too was sealed shut, and I detected no movement through any of the windows. Was everyone already sheltering in place?

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

▶ Please! Let me in!

Citizenship record not detected. Citizenship record not detected. Citizenship record not detected.

Where else could I go? What possible options did I have?

The Information Kiosk! I knew Royal Heights had one. Maybe, just maybe, I could shelter there. I just had to reach it before it was too late. The water was already up to my boots.

I abandoned the hotel and the wreckage and plunged through the rising flood in the best direction I could guess, turning the block and hurrying down the vacant streets.

There! Up ahead. Under the gravity-defying sign identifying the sector.

I zoomed my vision. Previously, this kiosk had been open air, but I now saw that walls had risen to enclose the kiosk from the weather’s assault, making it look like a more refined version of The Commons’ kiosk.

Jolts of pain shot through my back and limbs, the full extent of my injuries dulled by surging adrenaline. Stinging water sloshed around my ankles, and I desperately wished my Speed and Agility numbers were higher.

Just a little bit farther…

As I neared my goal, in my peripheral vision I saw a large mass moving quickly towards me from an intersecting street. Another person–a Volunteer!

It was a man of considerable girth, with a body frame like a middleweight sumo wrestler. He wore a studded leather vest. There were Cybernetic ports up and down the sides of his thick neck. He charged for the kiosk. There was no way the two of us could fit inside.

I arrived first and opened the door, fighting against the force of the swirling water. The unknown Volunteer bellowed at me.

“Hey! That’s mine! I viddied it first!”

I haven’t backed up my data. I CAN’T back up my data! I’ll lose everything if I don’t survive this rain.

Panic mode. I yanked the door shut behind me. But his thick hand shot out and wedged in the crack. With great strength he wrenched the door open, and I fought to resist with every bit of my 20 Strength.

▶ We can’t both fit! Find someplace else! Please! I need this!

The man growled, and electric nodes on his face started to glow.

No, no, no. I don’t want this. I am not this man’s enemy. Glory to the Volunteers. I believe in that. I really do.

But this was survival. Raw, animalistic survival.

All I had in hand was this stupid, black analog phone. And I smashed it against his head. Again and again, bludgeoning the man. The skin of his wide face ripped open, and his brow turned to pulp above his left eye.

“Aghghghhhhh!!!”

But still he held fast, even as the water threatened higher and higher, filling the kiosk up to my shins. Risking both our lives. Unknown energy began to crackle at his knuckles. The stranger was ready to unleash some sort of Skill.

▶ Let go! I don’t want to hurt you!

I can’t… lose… my progress!

I dropped the phone and materialized my Mark I Trench Knife, stabbing it down straight through the top of his hand. He screamed and released his grip, and I slammed the door shut, quickly scanning my barcode under the recessed red light.

Welcome to Royal Heights, Volunteer. What information would you–ERROR–Information Kiosk services not available during cycle change.

But the scan did the trick of locking the door. Kiosk in use. The enraged Volunteer pounded on the outside. Our eyes met through the glass and I saw his undisguised loathing. The torrent was threatening to pull him under, but he planted his feet and stood his ground.

I backed against the far wall. The vibrant flood rose higher and higher, but the water inside the sealed kiosk drained out through some inbuilt mechanism. The stranger materialized a massive warhammer and slammed it against the kiosk door over and over, and I worried the window might break, until the weapon was sucked from his grasp. He opened his mouth to yell some curse and a swell of pink water poured down his throat.

He was going to drown out there. Because of me. And in that moment I could not think of a worse way to die. A tear unexpectedly streamed down my cheek.

▶ I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!!!

But I knew he couldn’t hear me. And soon he was gone, swept away as the water reached higher than the kiosk itself, immersing all that I could see. I shuddered.

It was him or me. It was him… or me.

I was safe. But I knew I would find no rest. No status refresh for me during this cycle change. I was trapped in a box at the bottom of a hazy abyss, the skyscrapers looking like the roots of underwater mountains. I wrapped my arms tight around my body, steeling myself against an onslaught of post-adrenaline shivers.

Unknowable time passed. In the murk I could have sworn I saw dark shapes moving. Shadows passing. The body of the drowned Volunteer? No, impossible. Too large. Manta rays? No. Indistinct, like ink blots. Spilled gobs of seminal black paint. Fleeting glimpses in the depths.

My eyes are playing tricks on me.

So I shut them and huddled. And waited. And waited some more.

My nose stopped bleeding. The water had washed the caked blood from my clothes and the phone. But my face remained painfully swollen, my eyes no doubt blacked.

After a long time, the flood subsided. The artificial light of The Collective’s day shone brightly from a featureless sky. And soon every trace, every drop of pink rain was gone, as if it had never happened at all. I imagined even the wreckage of the limousine had been reset, the damaged building and concrete guardrail repaired.

A loud commotion roused me from my stupor. I straightened up and peered through the pane.

No way…

I opened the kiosk and tentatively stepped out.

There was indeed a commotion–a joyous commotion. A crowd of Citizens packed the pristine streets. Men and women in unblemished polos and boatshoes, sports jackets, smart pantsuits, designer clothing. They gawked, awestruck at their surroundings. Some stared at their own hands and arms in wonder.

“We made it!”

“Finally! We’re here! I can’t believe we’re really here!”

“It’s even better than the commercials!”

There were shouts of joy. Some Citizens hugged each other. Others high-fived. A population explosion. Nobody noticed the battered Volunteer in the midst of the celebration.

A ominous notification flashed in my vision.

Warning! You have missed the payment deadline for your overdrawn account.

A late penalty of 1,000 Crypt will be added to your negative balance.

You will be charged the maximum 30% penalty interest rate, rounded up.

Your account now has a negative balance of 3,418.