Date: 3 January 2091
Time: 19:02 (GST‑4)
Location: Earth — New Boston‑5, Altitude 1 260 m, Atlantic Expanse
Everett Miracle—yes, that was the name on his actual government ID—trudged home from school with a backpack containing exactly three items: half‑scribbled notes, a head‑full of unlicensed daydreams, and a cheese sandwich he was 70 % sure had turned villainous.
He was eighteen. He was exhausted. He was not ready for the college entrance exam—and, frankly, the college entrance exam was not prepared for him, either.
Below the glass streets of New Boston‑5, ocean mist tore itself into rainbow wisps against levitation pylons. The whole city hovered more than a kilometre above the stubborn Atlantic like a gleaming "NO TRESPASSING" sign aimed at climate change. Drones buzzed by, their hulls plastered with pop‑up ads. Holograms hawked eternal youth, personality plug‑ins, and—this week only—artisan ramen. Life in 2091 was… a lot.
And then—
DING.
Not his glasses.
Not his phone.
Not the city‑wide ad‑AI.
This sound chimed inside his skull, like a divine voice memo from the universe's middle management.
> [GLOBAL SYSTEM MESSAGE]
Planetary Consciousness‑Convergence Threshold Detected
• Sentient‑Thought Density: ≥ 1.0 × 10^9 quanta · km⁻³
• Anthropogenic Entropy Factor: stabilised at 42 %
• Aggregate Dream‑Death Equilibrium: 10¹⁴ cumulative human expirations
Result: Narrative Cosmogenesis Protocol — Phase 02.
All sentient nodes, kindly remain stationary.
Everything stopped.
Birds froze mid‑flap, wings tilted like paused GIFs. A vending bot halted, paper cup hovering millimetres beneath a caramel‑espresso nozzle. Everett's sneaker hung over a puddle that forgot how reflection worked.
Then came the voice. Not above, not below—just everywhere within.
It shuffled through several greetings, as though auditioning personalities:
> "Greetings, players. Phase‑02 Commencement."
"Narrative Uplink initialising…"
"Congratulations, sapient survivors."
"Please don't panic. Statistics indicate 87 % of you will anyway."
Everett blinked. "Is the universe… buffering?"
High overhead, a colossal System Interface unfolded like a digital lotus, petals of hard‑light UI blossoming against the twilight. Sleek graphics. Slightly judgmental font.
Front and centre pulsed a neon button:
> [🎰 CLICK TO DRAW YOUR STARTER CLASS 🎰]
Underneath, in dismissively tiny print:
> Draw is final. Appeals may be filed in a subsequent incarnation.
Everett sighed. "This is either the beginning of something incredible… or the world's most expensive prank."
He tapped the button.
(Class reveal redacted until Chapter 2—stay tuned!)
> [QUEST RECEIVED: Survive Narrative Phase 02]
---
Elsewhere on Earth…
White House‑Omega, United States of Cascadia
President Gloria Cheng froze with an espresso halfway to her lips, eyes locked on the same glowing interface dominating every skyline.
"Did the U.N. sign off on… this?"
Her AI aide pinged. "Madam President, your Charisma stat has been auto‑calibrated. You are now classified Politely Intimidating."
Gloria sipped, unblinking. "Fetch the nukes, the monks— and somebody who's top‑ranked in e‑sports."
---
Sacred Hill, Varanasi, India
Guruji Dev Gopalan stood beneath a neem tree, saffron robes whispering.
"In 2012 we awaited an ending. In 2026 we braced for change. But 2091…"—he raised a hand to the pulsating sky—"this is the true līlā."
A nearby monkey screeched, bolting for the Ganges.
Guruji chuckled. "Even Hanumān recognises the opening move."
---
Casino District, Free Zone of Macao
Rico "Lucky" Del Toro stared at his poker hand—four aces. His first, ever. He inhaled victory—
And the world hit pause.
> [GLOBAL SYSTEM MESSAGE…]
Rico screamed at the heavens, "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!"
---
Tokyo Megazone, Japan
Seventeen‑year‑old Kaori Tamura peeked out her window at the radiant UI.
"Oh no. It's an isekai."
She grabbed her sword‑shaped umbrella, kicked the door open, and yelled, "BRING IT ON, YOU COSMIC OTAKU!"
---
Back to Everett Miracle…
He tried to mash the lottery button again—no rerolls. It pulsed at him, smug.
Above, reality tilted.
Beyond, stars rearranged like chess pieces.
And somewhere in the dark between galaxies, something that should never waken… opened a million eyes.
__________