“Have I leveled up?” I ask the Shard as I step out.

“No.” Was the scrolling reply. “We’re glad to see you’re moving again.”

When the word fades, I could see the number ‘5,’ rolling by on the bracelet.

“Are the ‘rankings,’ out?”

“Yes.” Came the reply.

Once, again the Shard goes silent. I sigh as I bend and pick up the 550 from the ground, and walk behind the dumpster out of view from everyone.

“Where did I land?”

“You’re number is 52,345,012.”

I count the numbers.

“...52 million? So I’m in the top third in the world. I guess that’s pretty good.”

“About twenty percent of Chosen haven’t yet entered a door.” Came the reply. “And about 5 percent have died in the past week. So you’re still pretty low.”

I sigh.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Shard.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Who’s the number one?”

“They are hiding their identity, and are going by the pseudonym, ‘Mirror. They have a point total of 150.’”

“You can hide your identity?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you let me know?”

“You didn’t ask.”

“Naturally.”

I’ll try to climb the rankings now; I suppose, though it’d probably be harder. I walk out from behind the dumpster, and lumber over to the nearby stairs where I take a seat and pull out a bottle of water from my bag and take a deep drink. I don’t know why. I’m not really the competitive sort, but the rewards were ridiculously good. Who knows what an item bestowed by a God would be, anyhow?

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Realistically, I was probably in the last half of chosen who were actively trying, and dedicating themselves to, the closing of the doors around the world. There was a possibility that I was dead last, among those numbers. Since my immediate want for a house was currently being fulfilled outside of my volition, I might as well aim for something, and this was as good as any other goal. Certainly, there was the goal of saving the planet, but that was far too nebulous of a plan to really sink into.

I screw the bottle shut, and run my tongue unconsciously over my teeth. A little over a week ago I would feel the sharp remnants of broken teeth, and jutting roots. How many years did I have that unconscious ache? How many years did I have to live with that dull pain? A constant reminder. The reminder that I was a failure of a human being? The fact that they were all there now was still a little hard to believe.

I push myself off the staircase and stretch out my back — even the dull ache that had constantly plagued my lower back was beginning to subside. It had just been a little over a week, but my gut was now a little thinner, and there was now a bit more slack in the waistline of my pants. My lungs took in the air a little easier, too. Perhaps, within the month, I could conquer my obesity.

I click the straps of the new backpack over my chest, around my waist, and continue down the road a little. The car that had been covering the door in the parking lot was away at the moment. I wonder, however, if it returns while I’m in there... I push that thought out of my mind and walk over to it. This door has the appearance of a hatch — like those that would lead into a cellar. Before I get into it, I hear the sound of someone approaching me from behind, I turn around.

The lady that works the front desk is there.

“What are you?” She asks; her hands tremble.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what are you? I just saw you vanish into a dumpster, and then re-appear thirty minutes later. Not to mention that army guy leaving your room.”

I clear my throat.

“That was my brother.” I lie, “He was just checking up on me.”

“Then what about you vanishing?”

“I didn’t.” I lie again, holding up my hands in front of me. I quickly lower them again to lean on the staff, “I tossed something and then got a call. So I stepped behind the dumpster.”

She glares. I know my lie isn’t sticking then. Guilt tugs at my heart.

“...you’re not like an alien or anything, right?”

“No! Of course not. I’m human.”

“Whatever.” She sighs and rolls her eyes before heading back into the office.

I suppose I should wait until nightfall, so I don’t draw too much attention to myself. At least until the world knows of the threat. I walk over toward the elevator and pause. Why should I? Why should I care about what others think now? If I continue to live for the opinions forever, how would I live my life? How would I compete with the top of the world if I hide away from the gazes of others?

I pivot on my heel and hurry back to the cellar door, throw it open, and step into it. I could see the eyes of the woman at the front counter watching me from the window as I slip into the darkness and into Efra.

My feet find solid footing soon after. The roar of water running through a tunnel deafens me as I steady myself. The feeling of pride in myself for having overcome a part of the innumerable insecurities that burden me fades and is replaced by a fast-beating panic.

“Fuck, what level is this?” I ask the Shard.

“Eleven.”

“Oh gods, I’m an idiot.” I turn around and hit my forehead against the marble wall. Ah, the consequences of undeserved pride.