“Earth’s human population is estimated to reach 10 billions by 2050.” A politician said, with cameras shining on his face and microphones near him. His hand won’t stop making weird gestures like a chef kiss or hitting the table, keeping the public attention on him.

“slurp” Lo turned off the Youtube video and finished his 2nd bowl of instant noodles for the day. It’s a Sunday noon, the best time for him to relax; but instead he closed the curtain and sat in a very unhealthy position, with his eyes getting more dim and black from tiredness — how long is it since he slept?

He cared, he thinks he knows about the world’s issues. Overpopulation, homeslessness, hunger? He dedicated his years finding a way to solve these. He wanted to change things. ‘But that’ll be a lot of work and investment.’ he thought. Then quietly posted the article he wrote onto his Facebook blog page with 52 followers.

He opened up his profile page on a novel writing site, his viewership hasn’t decreased much, but the Patreon donation per month has significantly dropped since he stopped posting regularly.

‘Writing a chapter per day isn’t that impossible, but is the content worth it?’ He thought, looking at the 2$/month Patreon page; reminiscence of the time when it peeks 12$.

He stretched, he’s been awake for longer than he could remember, perhaps friday night when he got off work? Since then he hasn’t written anything, even when ideas are flowing in his mind; his literature loving ancestor is slapping him with disappointment and not offering any help.

He’s the guy that couldn’t help himself, physically nor mentally.

After a moment of stretching, Lo turned off his computer and got onto bed.

‘What should I do tomorrow? Apart from my boring job? Do I write another chapter for my reincarnation story? Or the better story but with less views?’ He thought to himself again.

…

It’s an unusually raw and cold noon, the expected endless sunshine is covered by clouds and wind. For Lo, it’s the best time to go outside, dangling his feet with a notebook on hand, enjoying the cold air flowing through his hair and admiring the blueish yet yellow skies. Thinking of new ways to lead people into his lovely stories.

Yet, that’s an old story for him, now it’s just an endless loop, with some light tweaks here and there. ‘Just like the stories he wrote that viewers like’ He thought.

Soon, our protagonist fell into his hollow and dim, gentle dreams.

“Didn’t I turn off the lights…?” He thought, trying to cover his eyes, his room was never lit so he got confused when he woke up by a bright light.

It wasn’t the sun, it wasn’t the lightbulb in his house. It was a candle, from a table next to him, lit up the room in front of him.

slaps

“Ouch, what the f-” Lo said, immediately jumped up from his sleep when a hand slapped him across the face.

“Oh, you’re not dead, okay then.”