Alex stepped further into the dimly lit building. Dust motes swirled in the morning sunlight filtering through a cracked window, and the faint smell of mildew hung in the air. He took a deep breath, his sneakers crunching on scattered debris as he surveyed the space.

Alex rubbed his chin in thought. “Okay, no openly sabotaging my own projects.” He glanced around the space, mentally noting the challenges of the room: peeling wallpaper, water stains on the ceiling, and a suspiciously warped floorboard near the entrance.

“With a dump like this, no way I can make a profit no matter what I do.”

But small losses first. I have only $1,000 to play with, and I need to make an investment that looks like it will do well but won’t make a profit…

Alex started to walk in a circle again, forming a large crop circle in the dust. His pacing created faint patterns on the floor, a physical representation of his spiraling thoughts. then the idea hit him!

“A VIDEO GAME!” he exclaimed, the words bouncing off the empty walls.

He spun on his heel, throwing his arms wide as if announcing it to an invisible crowd. “A video game is the perfect way to lose money! It’s 2010, and gaming is growing fast, but it’s not the Wild West anymore. You can’t just code a dot, slap some lights on it, and call it a masterpiece like you could back in the early days. Those big dogs—AAA franchises—dominate the scene now. And it’s still too early for indie games to have their renaissance.”

He could already see the dollar signs evaporating into the ether. His grin widened, a mix of triumph and mischief.

Then, like a bucket of cold water, a new thought doused his excitement.

“Wait,” he muttered, his grin faltering. “What if I accidentally make a masterpiece?”

Alex’s pacing resumed, faster now, as panic crept into his tone. “What if my future knowledge makes me too good? What if I accidentally create the next big thing?” He ran a hand through his messy hair, leaving it even more disheveled. “Damn it, I need to be careful!”

He stopped, took a deep breath, and plopped himself onto the dusty floor, crossing his legs. The chill from the concrete seeped through his jeans, grounding him. His phone felt heavy in his hands as he opened it to reveal the System interface. His account balance—$1,000—glowed on the screen in bright, mocking digits.

“Not a penny more,” Alex muttered, staring at the number like it was taunting him.

The realization hit him again: I don’t know how to code.

He opened a search tab, typing furiously. How to make a video game with no budget.

Dozens of results flooded his screen. Tutorials, forums, indie dev blogs—it was a goldmine of information. Alex skimmed through, making mental notes. Free game engines, royalty-free assets, and bizarrely amateur design tips filled his vision. As he read, a wave of nostalgia hit him like a truck.

“Oh God, I forgot how the internet was back in 2010, Feels like I need a VPN for every website I click on.” he muttered. “Half the websites look like they were designed by someone who just discovered WordArt.”

One forum post had a glittery GIF of a spinning skull next to the title: “FREE GAME ASSETS!!!111!!!” Another site blasted music from some ancient MIDI file the moment he clicked on it, causing Alex to jolt and fumble to mute his phone.

“This is torture,” Alex groaned, but he couldn’t help a chuckle. “I swear, back in 2026, even scammers have better web design. At least they could past for real ads”

He kept scrolling, marveling at the sheer chaos of the early internet. A blog promised to teach him coding basics in “Just 7 Days—No Experience Needed!!!” The writing was in Comic Sans, and the background was a tiled image of a smiling cartoon frog.

I feel john Connor's dad right ow

“No wonder half the projects back then never saw the light of day,” Alex muttered. “How did we even survive this era?”

Stolen novel; please report.

Despite the hilarity, Alex’s research started to pay off. He discovered free game engines like GameMaker and Unity’s earlier iterations, both of which had clunky but functional versions available for no cost. He bookmarked links to royalty-free asset sites, though many of them had broken download buttons or required some obscure, ancient plugin.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” Alex said, speaking more to himself than the System. “I’ll make a game. A bad one. Something cheap, frustrating, and impossible to win. If I play my cards right…” He paused, tapping his fingers on the phone screen. “No half-assing the rage game. People will hate it so much they’ll buy it just to prove they can beat it.”

He smirked. “That’s my selling point to Brian—or the System—if anyone objects. But it’ll definitely crash and burn spectacularly.”

He started drafting the concept. A skiing game. Players would navigate a pixelated skier down a mountain riddled with obstacles—trees, rocks, random snowmen. The controls would be intentionally clunky, and every crash would trigger a snarky voiceover insult.

“It’s perfect,” Alex muttered, a grin spreading across his face. “Now, I just need someone to make it.”

That is as long as Brian likes it, we are partners after all. But first I should clean this place up a little.

He stretched his arms overhead, his fingers brushing the low-hanging light fixture string. “Alright, now it’s time to make this place look like something other than a condemned building.”

Alex got to his feet, brushing dust off his shorts. He surveyed the room again, his eyes narrowing with a mix of determination and dread. The debris on the floor, the peeling wallpaper, and the mysterious dark stain in the corner all seemed to mock him.

First things first. He grabbed a broom he’d spotted near the door—a relic that looked like it had been through a war—and started sweeping the floor. The dust rose in clouds, making him cough and wave his free hand in front of his face.

“Great,” Alex muttered, his voice muffled by his shirt collar. “I’m gonna die of black lung before I even lose any money.”

It took him nearly an hour to clear the worst of the debris. Old newspapers, broken glass, and what looked suspiciously like the remains of a bird all went into a garbage bag he’d found crumpled in a corner. By the time he was done, his arms were sore, and his shirt was damp with sweat.

He stood back and surveyed his work. The floor was still scuffed and uneven, but at least it was visible now. Progress.

Next, he turned his attention to the walls. The peeling wallpaper hung in sad, drooping strips, revealing patches of discolored plaster beneath. Alex grabbed one of the loose edges and gave it a tentative tug. The wallpaper came off in a long, satisfying strip, and he grinned despite himself.

“Okay, this part’s kinda fun,” he admitted, tossing the strip onto the growing pile of trash.

By the time he finished, the walls were bare, and the room looked even worse than before. The exposed plaster was cracked in places, and the water stains on the ceiling seemed even more prominent now. Alex sighed, wiping a hand across his forehead.

“Well, Rome wasn’t built in a day,” he muttered. “And neither was… whatever this is gonna be.”

Leaning against the broom, Alex let his thoughts wander. If not a game studio, what else could this place become? He racked his brain for ideas, focusing on businesses that could theoretically turn a profit but would still be destined to fail under his deliberate mismanagement.

“How about a cat café?” he mused aloud. “But instead of cats, it’s, like… ferrets. Yeah, a ferret café. Nobody wants ferrets running around while they’re drinking coffee. It’ll smell terrible.”

He snorted at the thought and kept going. “What about a VHS rental store? In 2010. People are barely using DVDs anymore. I could probably find some old tapes at a thrift shop and charge a buck per rental.”

Another idea struck him, and he couldn’t help but laugh. “A store that only sells left shoes. Just the left ones. I could market it as some kind of avant-garde art project. Or maybe like take it very seriously and have it be a super high-end female shoe store, but they are only high heels and they are massive but still only for the left foot.”

The more he brainstormed, the wilder his ideas became. “What about a haunted doll repair shop? People mail in their creepy porcelain dolls, and I… I don’t know, glue their heads back on or something. Guaranteed to lose money, but it’d make for some hilarious reviews online.”

He paused, tapping the broom handle against his shoe as another thought occurred to him. “What if I made it a fitness center? But, like, all the equipment is from the 80s, and none of it works properly. It’d be a liability nightmare.”

Alex shook his head, a grin spreading across his face. “Man, I’m a genius at being terrible.”

Finally, Alex opened the System interface again. “Alright, System, I need some answers. What’s the zoning situation for this building?”

A moment passed before the familiar robotic voice replied: "This building is part of the historic district. Zoning regulations prohibit any modifications that would significantly alter or damage its structure."

Alex groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Of course. Historic district. Just my luck.”

He glanced around at the sagging walls and cracked ceiling. “This place barely qualifies as ‘historic.’ It’s more like ‘ancient and falling apart.’”

“Fine,” Alex said, exhaling sharply. “What was this building used for before?”

"This building was previously a restaurant."

Alex’s eyebrows shot up. “A restaurant, huh? Makes sense. The layout’s got that weird open-yet-cramped vibe. And the grease stains in the corner were a dead giveaway.”

He tapped his chin, a new idea forming in his mind. “Alright, maybe I can work with that. Restaurants have great potential for failure…”

Just need to think on that.

Alex then noticed his phone showing the time, 6:43 PM

“Oh F%ck! I'm gonna miss my first dinner back in 2010!”