I stare at the glowing blue words hanging in the air.
[System Initializing…]
It pulsed steadily over the dirty, spray-painted bricks, an impossible sight.
My heart pounds hard against my ribs. Thump-thump-thump. Too fast. My breath sticks in my throat. The cold from the damp pavement soaks deeper into my jeans. The alley stink – rotten oil, pee, garbage – feels suddenly sharper.
"Crazy," I whisper. My voice sounds thin. Scared. "Definitely crazy. Or maybe I hit my head when I slid down."
I closed my eyes shut tight and counted to three. Then I open them slowly.
The blue words are still there.
[System Initializing Complete.]
The first line vanishes. New words replace it. Bright. Demanding.
[Welcome, User: Ace.]
[Status: Extremely Poor. Motivation: Low. Potential: Undetermined.]
"Extremely Poor?" I mutter. "Yeah, no kidding." The word feels like a slap. Low motivation? No, what I feel is crushing despair. Potential? What potential? I'm sitting in garbage.
[Primary Directive: Wealth Acquisition.]
[Initializing First Task…]
More words flicker below.
[Task: The Beggar's Gamble]
[Objective: Acquire $100 USD within 24 hours using only your current resources and creativity. Begging is permitted.]
[Reward: $100 USD (System Funds). Skill: Basic Haggling (Level 1).]
[Failure: System Lockdown (72 hours). Increased Poverty.]
[Accept? (Y/N)]
The words hang in the cold air. Impossible. Begging? The thought makes my face burn hot, even in the cold alley. $100 in 24 hours? With nothing? My stomach clenches hard. I have only $37.50. That's it. My phone is dying, my clothes are filthy, and I smell like the back alleys. I smell like alley. Who in their right mind would give $100 to someone like me?
"Increased poverty?" I rasp, letting out a shaky laugh. "How? Do you want me thrown into an even worse alley?" The "N" option glows faintly, tempting me. Just say no. Ignore the crazy blue box. Pretend it doesn't exist.
But… $100. That's real money. Right now, it feels like a fortune. It's more than double what I have and it could mean so much: a cheap motel room, a hot shower, real food. Not sleeping on this filthy ground.
My hip throbs where I slammed into the counter. The memory of Dad's spit on my cheek feels fresh. Leo's scared, confused eyes flash in my mind. The final click of the door.
The hollow emptiness inside me yawns wider. What choice do I really have?
My hand trembles as I raise it. It feels stupid. Waving at air. At glowing words only I can see. I point a shaky finger towards the pulsing 'Y'.
It flashes bright blue.
[Task Accepted: The Beggar's Gamble. Timer: 23:59:59…]
A faint, transparent clock appears in the corner of my vision. 23:59… 23:58… Counting down relentlessly. Panic prickles my skin. 24 hours. It feels like nothing.
The blue box vanishes. Just the timer remains. Floating there, reminding me of everything I haven't done.
Silence rushes back into the alley. Just the drip… drip… drip and the frantic scratching in the shadows. The smells feel stronger. My stomach growls again, loud and painful.
"Okay," I whisper, pressing myself against the dirty wall. "Okay. Begging." The word tastes sour. Humiliating. But the thought of that $100… and maybe a bed… it burns brighter than the shame.
I push myself up slowly. My muscles ache. My back is stiff and sore from the bricks. My jeans are damp and cold. I brush uselessly at the grime. I look down at myself. Faded grey tee with the stupid juice stain. Old jeans. Scuffed sneakers. I look exactly like what I am: homeless and broke.
"Resources and ingenuity," I mutter, trying to remind myself of the task. My resources: $37.50, a dying phone, a university ID card (useless), and… me. As for my ingenuity? It's about as useful as a chocolate teapot right now.
I need a spot. Somewhere with people. Maybe near the pizza place? Tony's has customers. People coming and going. Maybe feeling generous after a slice?
I shuffle out of the alley, back onto the noisy sidewalk. The city lights are brighter now. Evening crowds move faster. I feel invisible. And completely exposed. My face feels hot. How do you even do this?
I spot a slightly cleaner patch of wall near Tony's Pizza's entrance. The smell of hot cheese and pepperoni makes my stomach cramp. People walk past. Couples laughing. A group of friends. A tired-looking woman with groceries. Nobody looks at me.
I lean back against the rough brick wall, trying to look… what? Pitiful? Deserving? I just feel stupid. Awkward. I shove my hands deep into my pockets. My fingers curl around the crumpled bills. $37.50. My lifeline.
A man in a suit walks briskly past, talking loudly on his phone. He doesn't glance my way. A teenager with headphones bobs his head, eyes glued to his screen. He moves around me as if I'm not even there.
Minutes crawl by. The timer in my vision ticks down. 23:42… 23:41… My palms sweat inside my pockets. This isn't working. I need to… say something? Do something?
An older woman approaches, struggling with two heavy shopping bags. She looks kind and tired. Maybe…?
I clear my throat. It feels like sandpaper. My voice comes out weak. Croaky. "Um… excuse me, ma'am?"
She jumps slightly, startled. Her eyes flick to me, then quickly away. She speeds up, clutching her bags tighter. Fear flashes across her face. Fear of me.
My cheeks burn. Shame washes over me, cold and heavy. She thought I was going to rob her? Or worse? I shrink back against the wall. The juice stain on my shirt feels like a blinking neon sign saying 'LOSER'.
The timer mocks me. 23:35… 23:34…
Desperation claws at my throat. $100. A motel. A shower. Escape from this crushing nothingness. I can't fail. Not yet.
I take a shaky breath. I force my hands out of my pockets. I look down at the grimy sidewalk. My voice is barely a whisper, lost in the city noise.
"Spare… spare any change? Please?"
The words hang in the greasy air. They feel like swallowing broken glass. Nobody stops. Nobody even seems to hear. The timer keeps ticking.
23:30… 23:29…
A crumpled dollar bill lies near the edge of the street, it was partly stepped on. My heart leaps. I dart forward, snatching it up before the wind takes it. It's dirty. Wet. But it's money. $1. $38.50 now.
It's something.
But $100 feels a million miles away. I lean back against the cold brick, the single dirty dollar clutched tight in my fist. The blue timer glows steadily in the corner of my sight.
23:28… 23:27…
The Beggar's Gamble has begun. And I'm already losing.