I genuinely loved my job. I know I'm one of the few who can honestly say that, but it's true. I miss the gentle slide of shears through the fabric, a simple stitch that wraps a garment neatly around its wearer's frame, and the smile of a satisfied customer. I was great at what I did, but more importantly, it made me happy.

It did, at least, until Zambezi and their stupid AI put me out of business. A centuries-old craft made obsolete by biosensors and in-home 3D printers. Customers couldn't pass up an opportunity like that, and I couldn't particularly blame them. So I spent fifteen years of my life learning skills that a machine can replicate in half the time.

This feeling must have been how typewriter salesmen felt after the computer was invented.

I ended up having to sell my family's tailor shop. Generations of Hoods worked out of that shop for more than a century, and I, Mersault Hood, had to be the one to sell it. I made a pretty penny, mind you, but it still didn't feel great to lose.

I had everything I could need. A condo fully paid off and close to what little family I had left—enough money so that I could live my entire life comfortably and then some. Also, a couple of hobbies to help pass the time.

Arguably I had everything except a purpose; Zambezi took that from me.

I was deeper in my woes than usual and needed something to help cheer me up. Nothing worked better than a bacon egg and cheese sandwich from Alphonzo's, the bodega only two blocks down from my luxury condo. Vaulted ceilings and the six feet tall barn windows were great and all but the real reason I chose this as my home was between two whole-grain buns. As I exited my building, I held the door open for a delivery driver holding several boxes. After I saw the Zambezi logo, I suddenly got a sour taste in my mouth.

I would've still held the door even if I knew what company employed the driver. After all, they had to make a living. It wasn't entirely their fault they worked for a soulless megacorp.

The whirring of a small RC car caught my attention, and I saw a young girl of 8 or 9 looking in my direction. After a second, she waved, to which I waved back. It wasn't until walking past that I realized she wasn't looking at me but rather the Zambezi driver exiting my building. I couldn't blame the girl; she didn't know the Gestapo uniform he wore was killing the earth and its people. One day when her parents have their jobs stolen, she might get it. It's just a shame it'll take losing Christmas to make a child realize how the world works.

With the BEC of legend acquired, I left Alphonzo's in search of my favorite park bench tucked away in the corner of South Central Park. All and all, it was shaping up to be a perfect purposeless day.

The RC car drove into the crosswalk, hitting the corner of the curb, bouncing, then flipping onto its side. Tires spun in the air, shifting back and forth like a turtle stuck on its back. A second later, the girl entered the crosswalk aiming to retrieve her disabled vehicle.

The only issue was that the RC car wasn't the only vehicle trying to use the road. The Zambezi truck headed down the street, showing no signs of stopping. I didn't think, only moved. Diving across the crosswalk, I forced my palm against her chest, pushing her back onto the curb, and hit the pavement on my side, knocking whatever breath I had from my lungs. Curling my arms and legs into my chest, I attempted to slip between the truck tires. As the truck grew larger and larger, I knew it was in vain.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Zambezi now had literally taken everything from me.

Well, that was somewhat of a life, I guess. I wish I could've done what I loved more.

Career Unlocked: Textile Craftsman

I'd do anything to be able to just create for people again, whatever they want.

Exotic Skill Unlocked: Instant Reproduction

By the end, my fittings were immaculate. I wouldn't need tape or any size guide; all I needed were my eyes.

Exotic Skill Unlocked: Sensory Estimation

I'd even take cutting the scraps off of clothing like my mother had me do when I was first learning to sew.

Exotic Skill Unlocked: Material Reclamation

More than anything, I wish I knew what changes were coming. Maybe I wouldn't have had to sell my family's shop if I had learned just a little bit more.

Unique Feat Unlocked: Information Broker

I opened my eyes to see a bright light shining through full trees overhead. Grass tickled my feet while I could feel the sun's heat beating down. A small rock dug into my lower back, and an occasional breeze shook my whole body. It seemed to cut right through my clothing. I looked down in shock to discover I wasn't wearing anything.

I quickly shot up and gathered in my surroundings. I remembered the girl, the RC car, the truck, and then… nothing. Did someone rob me after the accident and leave me stranded in Central Park after that truck hit me?

"Hello?" I timidly called out to the empty forest.

With silence as my only response, I reluctantly headed into the forest. I covered my shame as I passed through the park, a tailor completely naked? What a ludicrous concept.

"Papa, it's a bandit!" A voice called out from between some trees at a distance.

I saw a mother and father with a young boy standing between them. The man stuck his arm out between the boy and me.

"You some kinda pervert?" The woman asked.

"No, I was just-" I stopped, unsure of what actually happened. "I was mugged."

"That's rough, friend." The man replied. "I think we might have some rags we could spare."

Rags may have been an overstatement. Instead, they wrapped me in two thick canvas sheets, helping cover my sensitive bits. But now that I had something to protect myself, I began to notice their clothing was not any nicer. At first glance, I thought they might be homeless, just some vagrants living in the park. They didn't wear the typical oversized hoodie, sweatpants, or whatever they could get their hands on. Instead, they were draped in cotton fabric, wearing pants fasted only by a drawstring. I had seen these kinds of people once before pretending to fight with foam swords. Clearly, these people were LARP-ing.

After dressing me in what I assumed to be cloth remnants of their costumes, they offered me a drink to parch my thirst. On theme, the family provided me with a leather pouch filled with a bitter liquid that definitely wasn't water.

"This is delicious!" I lied ecstatically to my new nerdy friends. "Where did you get this?"

"Salinel," The man replied cautiously.

"Oh, is that a new store downtown?"

The parents exchanged a quizzical look before the boy took my hand and led me past a treeline. I humored him and followed his lead. Instead of a steel city skyline, stone stretched as far as the eye could see. Individual plumes of smoke sprouted from chimneys throughout the streets.

"I don't think I'm in Central Park," I told myself.

That is correct. A thought replied that wasn't my own.

That's when I noticed it. Unable to see it through the treeline before, a band of debris rotated around the sun.

"Definitely not Central Park."