Kagan Smith's studio apartment in Tampa, Florida, was a living testament to the chaotic life of a 20-year-old whose aspirations in life were as disheveled as his blonde mane, typically thrown into a haphazard bun.
The walls of his abode were a mosaic of peeling posters and half-hearted attempts at laundry – with socks as often found dangling from the ceiling fan as on his feet.
Who would have thought after a night out I would end up peeing on some huge monolith that breached the sky's.
Not me. I even ended up on the news.
That was cool, I guess.
In the corner, the TV blared, a constant companion in his shrine to underachievement. Today's special: the giant monoliths that had popped up like some cosmic whack-a-mole game, which everyone was now calling the "Tower."
Kagan, with his tribal-tattoo-adorned torso, watched from his sagging couch, which bore the stains and stories of a hundred spilled ramen bowls. The newscaster's voice cut through the fog of his hangover:
"This just in, someone touched the tower and they disappeared in a beam of light."
The laugh that rumbled from Kagan's chest was more disbelief than humor. A beam of light? What was this, a budget sci-fi show? He glanced around his apartment – the 'kitchen' was just a microwave on a mini-fridge, and his 'dining room' was a coffee table rescued from a curbside.
Kagan let out a slow whistle, shaking his head. His eyes, the color of the midday ocean, squinted as a grin tugged at his lips. Touch the Tower, vanish in light? Sounded like an upgrade from this half-life of empty beer cans and overdue rent notices.
The chuckle died as his gaze landed on the picture frame, the faces inside smiling out at him from a time capsule of what once was. His hand grazed the frame, and for a moment, his armor of sarcasm fell away.
"Yeah, you'd all love this, wouldn't you?" he whispered to the picture. "Kagan, actually doing something with his life. Even if it's just turning into a human firework."
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He placed the picture back down with care, a softness in his eyes that would surprise anyone who knew him as the local jester.
"Don't wait up," he told the photo, the corners of his mouth lifting in a fleeting smile.
But first, he needed to find his other sneaker. He squinted under the couch, and there it was, nestled against a forgotten pizza box. Ah, the treasure trove of the unambitious.
With a sneaker in hand and a future unwritten, Kagan couldn't help but smirk. Life was about to get a lot less boring.
"Alright, let's add 'Beam of Light' to the résumé, right under 'Public Nuisance' and 'Professional Couch Potato.'"
He paused at the door, looking back at the apartment—the silent witness to his twenty-something angst. "Hold the fort, will you? And don't let the bed bugs bite. Or do. Maybe they'll clean the place up."
Leaving the apartment, he didn't lock the door. What was the point? Everything of value he carried within him—the good, the bad, and the unspent potential.
The Tower loomed in the distance, an adventure in solid form. And he, the unlikeliest of protagonists, with nothing to his name but the ink on his skin and the scars of the past etched in his heart, was drawn to it.
The walk was shorter than he anticipated.
Kagan approached the towering monolith, the looming giant that had erupted from the ground overnight like a skyscraper's seedling. Police tape fluttered in the humid breeze, encircling the base of the Tower like a ribbon on a gift that nobody wanted.
"Sir, you can't—" a policeman started, but Kagan was already ducking under the tape, a boyish grin on his face as if he were sneaking into a movie.
The news crews, eager for a fresh face to break the monotony of speculation, swiveled their cameras towards the newest contender in this unscheduled programming.
Kagan winked at the nearest camera, "Hey, when life gives you monoliths, right?"
His nonchalance was a strange contrast to the tense atmosphere surrounding the Tower. No one knew what the Towers were or why they'd appeared, but they had become the world's most enigmatic attractions overnight.
A ripple of whispers ran through the crowd as Kagan's hand reached out towards the Tower’s smooth, almost liquid-like surface. His fingers met the cool, dark material, and for a heartbeat, nothing happened. Disappointment fluttered through the crowd before the world seemed to inhale sharply.
Then, it began.
A shimmering light engulfed Kagan, cocooning him in a brilliance that made the crowd shield their eyes. The Tower vibrated with a frequency that sang in the bones of all those who stood watch.
"Just my luck," Kagan mumbled to himself as the light grew blinding, "I'm the one guy who actually gets the deluxe exit."
With a crackle of energy that felt like the punchline to the joke he had lived so far, Kagan Smith was gone, swallowed by the Tower that sought to pierce the heavens. The crowd erupted into chaos, but above it all, the Tower stood silent, its secrets still unsaid.
And just like that, the kid who lived in a nest of takeout and dirty laundry had become the world's most unexpected trailblazer.