[Calibrating…]
A mechanical voice echoed.
[Calibrating…Processing, estimated time: 840 minutes.]
Shit....
Jack protested softly in his sleep, causing his hands to search for something across the sheets only to notice the alarm in his phone hadn't even gone off yet.
Weird. I swear I heard something…
He momentarily looked around with half-opened eyes. And just a moment later, the quiet hum of the air conditioner lulled him back to sleep. and his vision melted away, replaced by a vivid image in his mind.
Jack dreamed of a man.
The man was gorgeous, popular, sociable, athletic, and on top of that, was extremely good at fighting. He greeted his neighbors with a smile in his face and conversed in the most ordinary topics such as women, work, and gossips. But the man had a big secret. His life was actually a lie. So was the world around him.
While the sun rose in the east and set in the west, and the man wakes up in the morning to jog, his night does not necessarily end up in him sleeping in his bed. He coldly roams the streets and enters suspicious spots, often fighting people in the dark, and sometimes, people with guns, and sometimes, even people with supernatural powers.
He held an even bigger secret.
First, humans there were very different. Most people, while similar to humans, were actually descendants of elves, dwarves, beastfolk, mermaid, etc., and over time, these other races who had blended into society and created families with others were what people in that world refer to as "humanity".
Those with elven blood were often beautiful, gifted with a natural grace for pursuits that demanded precision or nurtured the earth. Meanwhile, those of dwarven descent possessed great skill in the arts of creation and craftsmanship. There were also people whose wounds heal faster than others to the point severed limbs even regenerates on their own.
People who were purely human became very rare in society and it might be even true that they no longer exist. That was the hidden history—the secret humanity had buried.
And like every secret, it came with enemies. There were those who sought to expose the truth, to tear down the balance of order and peace.
The man was a part of that side of the world filled with superhumans gifted through bloodline and training.
But the man hated it. So much even.
Ever since he was a child, the double life was his life but as he grew up, escape became his biggest dream.
"I just want to live an ordinary life. Friends. A family. Beach trips. Growing old in peace surrounded by grandchildren…"
Watching him, Jack couldn't help but feel awe—and pity.
What a life… Fighting, secrets, power. Who wouldn't want that? I would want that!
Yet he understood the man's wish. But at the same time, he disagreed:
Great power inevitably demanded great responsibility.
'!!!'
Without warning, Jack felt a sharp pain in his chest, jolting him awake. The man in the dream who was peacefully walking found a knife had pierced his chest. Right there and then, he dropped to the floor.
Waking up, Jack's hair was soaked and droplets of sweat dripped from his face.
'I was stabbed!'
Sitting on his bed, he subconsciously touched his chest with shallow breaths. After he calmed himself down, he couldn't help but scoffed as he aggressively ran his hand through his hair in self-mockery.
A dream… Of course it was.
He laughed bitterly. Compared to that man, his own life was dirt.
His reality was simple, uneventful and boring. He lived in his parents' house for as long as he could remember, never once having the means or opportunity to move out.
His room was simple. He had a bed good for one person, a study desk with thick books and laptop, and a closet with un-ironed clothes. There were books, papers, and half-crumpled documents that were scattered among bits of trash.
There was one door led out, while two windows of uneven size opened to the world below—his view from the second floor.
Seeing the sunlight pressed through the curtains, he finally stood up and planted himself to the nearby study desk, as he pulled his laptop to study.
Eventually, he closed the laptop and went outside. He didn't study at all as he merely scrolled through X, Facebook, and multiple random tabs he couldn't even remember clicking.
Going down the stairs, a baby looked up, eyes bright. This one was his youngest brother and the most recent source of his envy,
Beside the baby, their mother, Samantha, 47 years old, a full-time housewife, cooed in a playful voice to the toddler, who happily returned to his toys while the TV chattered in the background.
"Good morning, son. Look, big brother Jack woke up late again. what do you say?" she said.
"Vroom…vroom…"
"When are you leaving?" his mother then asked him.
"The usual. Maybe five."
"You need to be careful, alright? The protesters have been very violent lately and don't let yourself get in some trouble. Just make sure to catch a ride straight home after class. Don't hang around late."
Jack smirked quietly to himself. Only he knew why. He just nodded and bit into a slice of bread.
But Jack said but decided to keep his thoughts to himself and ate a bread.
By noon, he was on the community bus, earbuds in, phonk music vibrating through his skull. The ride wasn't long since his residential address and the university was basically in the same city.
When he stepped out the bus, most students were already heading home. But not him. Not them.
Jack went against the slow current of people heading out.
Then soon, he arrived at their department building – College of Law.
That was right.
Jack was a student too. He wasn't entirely hopeless. He was a law student, to be precise—and their classes didn't start until night. Not every law school followed this setup, but his university catered to many working students, some even supporting their families, so the schedule was arranged this way.
Outside the building, Jack spotted some students from varying ages going in like weary soldiers after a long campaign. Some of them still had their office IDs hanging around their necks, and others clutching fast food bags for dinner. all of them wore the same exhausted look.
Classes hadn't started yet so some students chose to hang out outside just to keep up with others or have conversations among themselves in their circles, sometimes about school and sometimes just simple trivial stuff.
"Hey, Jack! Come with us." A 40-year old, one of his classmates, invited him over to their circle.
Normally, Jack would have run to socialize. But Jack merely bowed and smiled.
"What's with him recently?" someone said.
"Right? He's been avoiding us lately."
"Not just us, he's avoiding everyone when he used to talk so much."
Jack merely smiled, ignoring what he could accidentally hear. He does not know why too, but they were right.
Lately, he wasn't sure whether going down this path was the best choice for him. He was now 24 years old, a real adult, yet he was unemployed. If you think about it, it might have been better to give up on his dreams of prestige and just take a civil service job.
That thought lingered bitterly as he walked inside.
Then it came again. That voice.
Jack heard that faintly familiar mechanic voice in his head, and this time, his head started to throb in pain.
[Reminder: 2 hours left before full calibration. User is advised to stop all activities and prepare for a painful experience.]
Pain lanced behind his eyes.
The truth was he didn't know it yet, but what he saw wasn't just a dream.
And the world he lived in— wasn't what he thought it was.
And the man was now him.