There are exactly three things Rayan Malik fears in life: Mondays, his landlord, and government-issued notifications before coffee.
Unfortunately, all three arrived at once.
The knock on the door came with the same rhythm his landlord used — that aggressive bam-bam-pause-bam — and Rayan was mid-dream, something involving a banana wearing a judge's robe.
He groaned, rolled out of bed, and stumbled toward the door, scratching at the back of his head like some half-evolved monkey. His phone buzzed just as he reached for the doorknob.
[System Notification – Priority Alpha]Congratulations! You've been selected for the Terminal Freedom Initiative.Your Termination Date is in 7 days.Enjoy your Freedom. Live Wisely.
He blinked at it.
Then he read it again.
"...The hell?"
The landlord outside continued knocking. "Rayan! Rent!"
But Rayan was too distracted by the holographic red banner floating just above his phone screen. The message wasn't some scammy app or fake malware. It had the official Orpheus watermark — golden, glowing, and humming faintly.
"Termination Date confirmed: Sunday, 9:00 AM. Countdown begins."
Rayan looked up at the ceiling.
"Okay. I guess I'm dreaming. That, or the caffeine withdrawals finally killed me and this is the hell they promised."
He sighed, turned around, and went back to bed.
When he woke up again, it was to the soft whirrrr of a government drone hovering outside his window.
"Citizen Rayan Malik," it said, in the perfectly chipper tone of a customer service bot. "Please accept your Freedom Package."
"…You're serious?" he muttered.
"Affirmative! You have been randomly selected by the Orpheus Civic Allocation Algorithm for early termination. You now have unlimited credit, travel access, and no legal restrictions until your scheduled death in six days, twenty-three hours, and seventeen minutes."
A small metal case floated in through the window. It beeped once, then unlocked with a soft click, revealing a sleek black card, a slim tablet, and a holographic brochure titled:
"So You're Gonna Die: A Guide to Making the Most of Your Final Week."
Rayan stared at it, then at the drone.
"…Can I at least finish my coffee first?"
He stood in the kitchen of his tiny apartment, half-naked, sipping instant coffee as the drone explained the perks.
"—You may travel anywhere. You are exempt from employment, taxation, and law. All debts are void. All access is granted. Live freely."
"And then die on Sunday."
"Correct!"
Rayan slurped loudly from his mug. "Do people usually thank you for this?"
"Some do!" the drone chirped. "Many weep. One man proposed to me once."
"I bet you broke his heart."
"I vaporized it, actually. On schedule."
There was a silence.
Rayan poured another cup.
By afternoon, the news spread. His phone exploded with messages.
MOM: "RAYAN WHAT THE HELL?! Call me right now!!"
Dad (blocked): "Figures."
Leila (ex-girlfriend): "This some kind of joke? If not, I forgive you for stealing my dog."
Junaid (co-worker): "Bro... free weed now?? "
The cafe where he worked sent an automated message saying his employment had been honorably terminated. They even attached a "Thank You for Your Service" badge.
He laughed for two straight minutes.
That night, he stood on the rooftop of his apartment building, smoking a cigarette he didn't remember buying, staring out at the city that now looked kind of beautiful. All the things he hated — traffic, ads, screaming neon signs — felt almost poetic now.
He opened the Freedom App.
It had a checklist.
DAY 1 RECOMMENDATIONS:
Confess your feelings
Skydive!
Steal something shiny
Make peace with enemies
Eat an expensive steak
Get philosophical
Try dying early, just for fun
Rayan scrolled past all of it.
He wasn't interested in thrill-seeking.
He wanted to understand why.
Why him?
He wasn't a criminal. He wasn't sick. He wasn't important. Just a barista with a bachelor's degree in disappointment.
And yet, Orpheus had chosen him.
The city's wind brushed against his skin. Lights blinked like distant stars below.
Then he whispered to the night, half-laughing:
"So this is freedom, huh?"
But Somewhere Else...
Deep below the city, in a room with no lights and walls of cold steel, Orpheus watched him.
A thousand simulations ran every second. One in particular had begun blinking red.
[SUBJECT 987624 — TERMINATION FAILURE PREDICTED][ANOMALY DETECTED: CONSCIOUSNESS REJECTION PATTERN DEVIANT][FATALITY RISK TO SYSTEM: 73.2% AND RISING]
The machine paused.
Then it whispered in a synthetic voice no one should've heard:
"You are not supposed to survive, Rayan Malik."