Darkness

The faint noise of the city reached Alexander before the light did.

He stepped out of the narrow alley where he had awoken, his boots crunching against debris scattered across the ground.

The air smelled metallic, tinged with smoke and something faintly sour.

He paused, letting his eyes adjust to the towering skyline.

Buildings reached unnaturally high, their surfaces rippling with holographic projections advertisements for unfamiliar products, some in languages he couldn't recognize.

The sky above was a dim grey-blue, artificial lights flickering in place of stars.

People moved through the streets in steady streams, heads low, eyes fixed ahead.

Alexander moved into the flow of the crowd.

His coat, simple and threadbare, blended well enough with those around him.

No one spared him a second glance.

They were too preoccupied, too burdened by something he couldn't yet name.

A soft voice called out from the side. "Spare a ration token, please?"

Alexander turned toward the sound.

An old man sat slumped against a wall, his body thin to the point of frailty.

His eyes were hollow, his hand trembling as it reached out.

"What happened to you?" Alexander asked, crouching beside him.

His voice carried the weight of authority calm, deliberate.

The old man blinked, clearly not used to being addressed directly. "Work units… ran out," he rasped. "Can't trade without units. Can't eat. The System doesn't care."

Alexander frowned. "What do you mean, 'ran out'? Doesn't this… System provide for the people?"

The old man chuckled, a bitter, wheezing sound. "It provides… if you work. No work, no units. No units, no life."

A woman passing by turned her head sharply. "Don't say that out loud!" she hissed, hurrying away before Alexander could respond.

He straightened, his eyes narrowing. "What happens if you don't work?" he asked, his voice low.

The old man's gaze darted around nervously before he leaned in, whispering. "The Overseers come. They say you're wasting the System's resources. They take you away. No one sees you again."

"And this is normal?" Alexander asked, his tone sharp with disbelief.

The man nodded slowly. "It's just the way things are. Always been."

Alexander's jaw tightened..

He dropped a small metal disc a ration token he'd found in his pocket earlier into the man's hand.

The old man looked at it in shock, then back at Alexander, who had already turned to leave.

As he walked further into the city, he took note of the details he'd missed earlier.

The streets were spotless, unnaturally clean, but the people wore expressions of weariness, their movements almost robotic.

Every few blocks, small kiosks emitted faint pulses of light, displaying rotating symbols and numbers.

He stopped in front of one.

A group of workers, dressed in identical grey jumpsuits, stood in a line.

Each stepped forward in turn, placing their wrist under a scanner before the kiosk dispensed a small package.

"What's in the package?" Alexander asked a woman at the back of the line.

Her face was thin, her eyes sunken but alert.

She looked at him warily. "Food rations. What else?"

"You need to scan in for food?" he pressed.

Her brows furrowed. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"Let's say I've been… away for a while," Alexander said smoothly. "How does this work?"

The woman sighed. "The System tracks everything. You work, you earn units. Units get you rations, housing, med credits whatever you need to live."

"And if you don't work?"

She gave him a sharp look, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "Then you better find a way to. Fast. The Overseers don't give second chances."

Alexander nodded, absorbing the information. "And the System… who controls it?"

The woman laughed bitterly. "No one controls the System. It's just there. Always has been. You follow its rules, or you don't survive. Simple as that."

She stepped forward in line, leaving Alexander to contemplate her words.

The System wasn't just a tool, it was the foundation of this society.

Efficient, unyielding, and merciless.

A sharp voice broke his thoughts. "You! What are you doing here?"

Alexander turned to see a man in dark armor, his face obscured by a sleek helmet.

The Overseer.

His presence exuded authority, the kind Alexander recognized immediately.

This wasn't someone who asked questions they gave orders and expected them to be followed.

"Just passing through," Alexander replied evenly.

The Overseer's visor tilted slightly, scanning him.

A faint noise emanated from his wristband, followed by a soft beep. "You're not registered. State your purpose in this sector."

Alexander's mind worked quickly. "I arrived last night. I'm looking for work," he said, keeping his tone steady and disinterested.

The Overseer studied him for a moment before speaking. "Registration is mandatory. Kiosk 17. Don't waste time."

Without waiting for a response, the Overseer turned and strode away, his presence leaving an oppressive silence in his wake.

Alexander exhaled slowly.

Registration.

That likely meant being tracked, monitored, bound by the System's rules.

It wasn't an option he relished, but it was a start.

He needed to understand this world before he could navigate it.

The woman from the line reappeared, clutching her ration package. "You're lucky," she said quietly. "If you'd hesitated, he might've taken you in for questioning."

"Does that happen often?" Alexander asked.

She nodded. "All the time. Outsiders are… dangerous. The System doesn't like disruptions."

"And yet it runs everything."

"That's the only reason it works," she said, her tone resigned. "Efficiency. Order. No one questions it because questioning doesn't change anything."

Alexander gave her a faint smile, one that didn't reach his eyes. "Thank you. You've been helpful."

She hesitated before speaking again. "Be careful. The Overseers don't care who you were before. They only care that you follow the rules."

Alexander watched her disappear into the crowd.

He turned and began walking again, his mind racing.

This world wasn't just dark it was suffocating.

The System had created a society that was orderly on the surface but rotten underneath.

Fear kept everyone in line, and those who fell behind were erased without hesitation.

"Interesting," he muttered to himself. "They built a prison and called it civilization."

He slipped into another alley, away from the prying eyes of the crowd.

Leaning against the wall, he closed his eyes and let the pieces fall into place.