Chapter 1: The First Step
Who am I?... I distinctly remember being told that I would have this question sorted out by the time I graduated college, and certainly after grad school. But in recent years I have still found nothing that resembles a satisfactory answer. I spend a few more minutes musing on my dissatisfaction with my life before literally rolling out of bed and onto the floor of my apartment. My home AI counts down 3….2…..1 before my “no seriously get up this time” alarm goes off 15 minutes after the original. The electronic blinds open quickly and without warning to stab me right in the retina with sunlight. After shutting my eyes with all the force I can muster I’m finally ready to get the day started… or at least to activate my daily routine.
“Gladis, fresh clean and deeply depressed time frame 15 minutes.”
That’s not a standard command to a home AI but being a halfway decent program has its perks.
“Initiating.”
I’m lifted up weightlessly by a swirling tube of water that defies gravity by some mechanism I’ve long since forgotten the inner workings of. “Water” is a bit of a misnomer in this case. What’s actually swirling around me is a bio waste removal fluid specifically tailored to my unique genome so as to safely clean all parts of me simultaneously whilst removing any harmful bacteria. It is a tad gross if you think about it too hard, but humans used to eat the intestines of other living creatures for sustenance so I don’t wanna hear any criticism.
After less than a minute I’m gently lowered to the floor as the fluid drains into a freshly formed gutter and every remaining particle is vibrated to the point of evaporation instantaneously off of my skin. I reminisce about the fact that every thing I’ve just experienced in the last few seconds of my life would have at one time been reserved for those at the pinnacle of society. I’m sure that to someone from a thousand years ago, this would all seem pretty cool. But to me, it's just Tuesday… SHIT it’s tuesday. I’m supposed to be giving a presentation today. I’m not late for it or anything. I just REALLY don’t want to do it. I groan as I stand and stretch my body and walk to the closet to look for some pants. “Look for” is also a bit of a misnomer here as I simply need to think of the article of clothing I desire and I can have it placed directly into my hands as I open the door.
Fully dressed and officially ready to head out, I turn my left wrist up to activate the holographic display of my social media and other news feeds for a second in search of that sweet hit of dopamine to get me through the day. No such luck. Dry as a bone. I flick my wrist back downward and pull my sleeve down over my dark brown skin. I walk towards the front room of my apartment and the space for a door opens up automatically. With no break in my stride as I call a government subsidized Lyft, I check my status.
Name
Race
Human
Age
28
Class
Scientist
Profession
Practical Applications Researcher
Level[Adjusted]
14
Merits
10,358.78
TAL
Bronze IV
The question of whether I’m lucky or cursed to be not the first, but the fifth generation of the United Plunkaris Alliance’s societal gamification initiative is still up for debate in my parents' household. To be perfectly honest I can’t imagine life without it. As much whining as I do about not knowing who I am, I’ve always had the guarantee that a path forward in life would be offered to me if nothing else.
I step out into the bustling cityscape, a well-oiled cog in the grand machine of the United Plunkaris Alliance. The Lyft arrives with an almost imperceptible hum, a sleek pod of gleaming metal and tinted glass. As I slide into the ergonomic seat, I can't help but marvel at the sheer efficiency of it all - the perfectly calibrated climate control, the seamless integration of my personal preferences, the algorithmic optimization of my route. It's a marvel of modern engineering, a testament to humanity's relentless pursuit of convenience and comfort.
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And yet, as the pod whisks me through the arteries of the city, past towering spires of steel and glass, past holographic billboards flashing with the latest TAL rankings and Merit counts, I can't shake the gnawing emptiness inside. Is this all there is? A life of carefully curated experiences, of chasing arbitrary metrics in an endless game of societal one-upmanship?
I think back to the stories my grandmother used to tell, of a time before the Alliance, before the gamification of every aspect of human existence. A time of struggle and uncertainty, yes, but also of raw, unfiltered emotion. Of dreams and desires not dictated by algorithms and TAL tiers.
The pod glides to a stop, jolting me out of my reverie. I step out into the crisp, recycled air of the research facility, straightening my lab coat with a practiced motion. Time to put on the mask, to play the role of the diligent scientist, the rising star in the field of Practical Applications.
But even as I stride through the gleaming halls, nodding at colleagues and scanning my biometrics at each checkpoint, I can feel the first stirrings of something deep within. A longing for something more, something real and unscripted and achingly human.
Little do I know, as I prepare to deliver my presentation on the latest breakthroughs in neural implant technology, that my life is about to veer wildly off-script. That the carefully constructed façade of my existence is about to crack wide open, revealing a world of danger and possibility beyond anything the Alliance could ever dream of.
For now, though, I am just another face in the crowd, another data point in the vast sea of humanity. Waiting, without knowing it, for the moment that will change everything.
The rest of my day unfolds like a well-oiled machine, each cog and gear of my existence slotting neatly into place with a precision that would be admirable if it wasn't so soul-crushingly monotonous. My presentation goes off without a hitch - not that I expected anything less. The neural implant does most of the heavy lifting, after all. I stand there, a meat puppet mouthing words while holograms dance and data streams flow. My colleagues nod approvingly, their eyes glazed with that familiar mix of polite interest and utter boredom.
As I wrap up, I catch a glimpse of Dr. Elara, her Platinum TAL badge glinting mockingly under the harsh lab lights. She's using some new holographic interface, her fingers dancing through the air with a grace that makes my clunky Bronze IV tech look like something out of a history museum. I try not to stare, but it's hard not to covet that kind of access. With tech like that, I could... what? Climb another rung on this meaningless ladder? I shake off the thought and head back to my station.
The afternoon drags on, a blur of data analysis and AI-assisted research. My assigned AI, bless its limited little algorithmic heart, does its best to keep up with my queries. But every other command seems to be met with a cheery "I'm sorry, that function requires a higher TAL clearance!" I swear they program these things to sound extra perky when denying you access, just to twist the knife a little.
When my stomach starts to growl, I plug into the "virtual lunch lounge", a sad facsimile of actual human interaction. The resolution is grainy, the sensory feedback laggy. My avatar sits at a digital table, "eating" food I can barely taste, making small talk with colleagues who look more like poorly rendered NPCs than actual people. I long for the days of actual cafeterias, of real food and genuine conversation. But those are luxuries reserved for the upper tiers now.
The commute home is a special kind of hell. I'm crammed into a hover-tram, pressed against the window as sleek, private vehicles zip by. Each one is a pointed reminder of what I don't have, of the life that's always just out of reach. I try to distract myself by browsing the global net through my neural implant, but it's an exercise in frustration. Every other link is blocked, every interesting tidbit of information hidden behind a TAL paywall. The promise of knowledge, of entertainment, of escape - all of it tantalizingly close, yet forever inaccessible.
Home, sweet artificially climate-controlled home. I stand in front of my food synthesizer, scrolling through the sad list of available options. Nutrient Paste #37 or Protein Cube #12? Such mouthwatering choices. I think longingly of the gourmet synthesizers I've seen advertised, capable of recreating any dish from human history with perfect accuracy. But those are for the Golds and Platinums, not for Bronze nobodies like me.
I choke down my "dinner" and settle in for some VR entertainment. The system boots up with a sad little whir, the resolution so poor I can practically count the pixels. I try to lose myself in a historical simulation, but the characters are stiff, the environments blurry. It's less "living history" and more "watching a low-budget school play". After an hour, I give up, more depressed than when I started.
Sleep. The final frontier. The one place where TAL doesn't matter, where we're all equal in our unconsciousness. Or so I thought. As I lie on my auto-adjusting bed, I can feel it struggling to find the right configuration. The servos whine, the padding shifts awkwardly. I make a mental note to schedule maintenance, then immediately remember the wait times for Bronze IV tech support. I'll probably be due for a TAL upgrade before this thing gets fixed.
I'm just about to drift off, resigned to another night of mediocre sleep, when my neural implant pings. Not the usual soft chime of a message, but an urgent, almost painful buzz that jolts me fully awake. A message flashes across my field of vision:
```
ATTN: [My Name]
OPPORTUNITY OF A LIFETIME
Meet the legendary dungeon delver crew "The Tower Takers"
Expedition departing soon - Your unique skills required
Respond immediately for details
This message will self-delete in 60 seconds
```
I blink, certain I'm dreaming. The Tower Takers? They're urban legends, campfire stories, the kind of thing you hear about in hushed whispers at the edges of respectable society. They don't send messages to middling scientists with barely-functioning neural implants.
But as the countdown ticks away in the corner of my vision, a wild, reckless hope begins to bloom in my chest. This has to be a mistake, a glitch, a cruel prank. And yet... what if it's not? What if this is real? What if this is my chance to break free from the suffocating embrace of the Alliance, to be more than just another number in their grand societal algorithm?
My finger hovers over the 'respond' button, my heart pounding in my ears. I have a choice to make, and only seconds left to make it. Everything I know, everything I am, tells me to ignore this, to go back to sleep and wake up tomorrow to my safe, predictable life.
But as the final seconds tick away, I realize something: I've never felt more alive than I do right now, poised on the knife-edge of this impossible decision. And suddenly, I know exactly who I am.
I'm the person crazy enough to say yes.
---