I don’t know how much time has passed since Marcus shot Tim. I’ve been sitting in the office chair, hugging my knees and staring out at the night sky. All I wanted to do was punish Marcus for getting me into this mess and, instead, I got Tim killed. I also wondered who the girl was that had been with Marcus and Tim.

I have noticed that I feel no hunger. I don’t seem tired; no matter how much I try, I can’t sleep. There isn't even the urge to go to the bathroom. I guess time truly has stopped for me.

The only thing I wish now is to know if Marcus got away with the money and for killing Tim. Reason tells me that he got caught, but I may never know.

If I’m lucky enough to get out of here one day, that’s the first thing I’ll try to find out. I finally turn back to the computer; if I want any chance of surviving here, I have to press on.

At first, I pick random people across the country to win small amounts, $50 or $100, nothing more significant. I’m afraid to see the same thing that happened to Tim happen to someone else.

I eventually come back to my hometown when a thought occurs to me. Maybe I can figure out what happened to Marcus and Tim by getting a glimpse into the lives of others when they win the lottery.

As I go through the list of people in the town who bought lottery tickets, I start to recognize some of them. But strangely, few people are buying lottery tickets, and I wonder why.

Perhaps I could start something to help motivate people. I randomly pick people to win small amounts of money and watch their reactions, looking for any information that can help me.

At this time, I see the jackpots for many of the lotteries have been growing steadily, some of them the largest ever. I need a safe person to win the money, someone who won’t have any harm fall upon them.

I pick an elderly woman next to win a five-million-dollar jackpot. She checks her lottery ticket, realizes she has the winning numbers and begins crying. She stands up, clutching her chest, and falls over dead from a heart attack. Oh no, what have I done?

The video stays up; apparently, there is more to see. I watch what I assume to be her adult children, finding her and the lottery ticket.

They quickly realize it’s a winning number, and all four of them end up in court fighting over who gets the money. I feel bad about the lady but even more so for Tim, probably because Tim still had his whole life ahead of him.

Then the computer dings. I look around the screen to see if something has changed. Something new has appeared in the corner—a dot. I click on it, and a news article titled “Grown children fighting over lottery winnings won by their dead mother” pops up.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

I read the article, which confirms everything I saw in the video. I guess I get to see how my choices influence lives and may even affect society—great, more pressure on me.

I give more and more winning lottery tickets to the people in my hometown, still hoping to glean some information about Marcus.

More local news articles pop up that have little interest for me until a national one appears. The headline reads, “Unusual amount of winning lottery tickets in a small town.” I read through the article.

Apparently, people are noticing a large increase number of lottery winners in my hometown.

Maybe now, more people will buy lottery tickets. And they do, but none of them can tell me what happened to Marcus. Then I notice that a police officer buys a lottery ticket. Now, this could lead to something.

As he wins the jackpot, I watch the video carefully. Then, a news article appears about him. It talks about his family and what he’s going to do with the money, and I finally get some helpful information.

The article comments on how ironic it is that he wins the lottery after apprehending Marcus twenty-five years earlier for shooting Tim over a winning lottery ticket. What? Twenty-five years ago?

I feel myself get lightheaded. I’ve been here that long. I’ve been so focused on my lottery obsession that I wasn’t even aware of how society was changing, on the screen, right in front of me. Little things like technology, cars, and the changing clothing styles.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm myself, I go back reading the article. It talks about Marcus and how he was caught by this police officer after trying to flee the state. He was found guilty of Tim’s murder and has been in prison ever since.

There’s my answer. Marcus was apprehended for killing Tim. I don’t feel anything, probably because I think I knew all along he wouldn’t get away with it. Or maybe being in this limbo is changing me, numbing my feelings somehow.

I swivel my chair around to stare out the window. I don’t know how long I sit like this until boredom finally sets in. I guess that guy was right; boredom would force me to continue his work picking lottery winners.

I turn around and start randomly awarding people money, some small amounts, others large amounts. Videos start popping up showing how it affects their lives. Most start out as positive, happy people for their good fortune, but for some, it leads to disastrous outcomes.

Money is stolen, marriages are broken up, and friends are fighting. After learning Tim’s fate, I turn the videos off. But just like that, they pop right back up. After a while, I realize that no matter what I do, I’m forced to see the outcome of my choices.

I continue like this for an unmeasurable amount of time. Because of my boredom, and since this is my only entertainment, I begin making more radical choices.

After I have given out what I guess to be hundreds of winners, I begin leaning towards giving jackpots to people who I think will tend to have a more interesting outcome.

This goes on and on. Some people die, some don’t. Some kill each other, some don’t. Some spend all the money and end up right where they started; some give it to a charity. But it all ends the same way; money never makes a person any happier.

I occasionally take a break and stare out the window, and during one of these breaks, I feel an unfamiliar presence enter the room.

“Where am I?” I hear a voice behind me say. Turning my chair around, I see a middle-aged woman standing before me.

“I see you found the safe; how unfortunate for you,” I say, and then ask, “What year is it?”

And just like that, I’m back in my hometown.