I am citizen number W5ANWOSLLI, and my name is Conr, an overused dime-a-dozen name in this world with a population of over 500 billion souls, or at least that is what I heard my overseer say once.

I have no family name of my own, as those get reserved for the nobles.

My parents both worked 16-hour shifts for a lord they never saw, And neither will I.

I was born luckier than most children, as my parents did not get separated by a whole sector and were not forcefully recruited to the military as Imperial taxes required.

My first 12 years were a constant grind of metal and smoke, never to see the toxic and irradiated stygian skies that cover our world, and I likely never will. In those days, I watched my parents and siblings toil in the arms factory as they provided me sustenance to eat; Tasteless nutritional paste, and over-recycled water, just like the over-recycled air that I breathe. I learned their trade by watching. By the age of 13, I toiled in that same factory too.

Between the age of 13-18, my parents worked hard to keep me from associating with the local street gangs; To keep me away from trouble. Those live riskier and shorter lives than most, as the church and police conduct purges from time to time. One of my siblings joined one when I turned 16, and I have never seen him since.

When I turned 19, my father suddenly turned ill and died three days later, and my mother died in an explosion in the factory a few months later. I am the only surviving son, and all my other siblings had either died, joined a gang, or joined the army as tax, I became the sole heir to the small and shabby cubicle I call my home in this dense mechanical dome of a city.

I am twenty-one years old this year and still living alone in the same dreary and grey house.

 

The following routine is my daily life:

I wake up in the morning on my parents' uncomfortable old mattress in the little cubicle of a room I call home, and give a small monotonous prayer to the God-Emperor to protect me today as well, something that my parents and the preachers always say will get me to his light when I die. I still wonder what that is.

I emotionlessly get up from bed and rinse my stale mouth with water, which I then drink since water is precious.

I open a can I bought at the week's end and eat bland and greyish nutritional paste recycled from human waste and corpses, and I drink over-recycled water, bereft of minerals or taste. After I finish the can's contents, I put it on the side of my smallish room, where I will take it for recycling at the end of my 10-day work week for a small compensation.

I leave my house and walk through the narrow yet dense streets filled with dust and dirt-covered men and women wearing patched rags similar to mine.

After walking a short and overfamiliar street, I arrived at the old factory I work in, an assembly line to produce a specific component in the rifles the soldiers use for war. It is a thankless and gloomy job, and I am expendable and replaceable at a moment's notice, but someone has to do it.

After reporting my name to the overseer, I wear my old safety mask and gloves and walk up to the assembly line and join my equally grey co-workers at work.

During the only 30-minute food break we get, I sneakily peek at a particular grime-covered face, and she also glanced at me sometimes and lightly smiled, a success in my persistent courtship. Under all that dust and grime is a true beauty, my only source of color in this dismal world. My lips arc upwards slightly in response as I almost forget to finish my valuable meal before toiling again.

After I finish my long and thankless job, I receive my daily due-- three and a half greyish coins called Tiks. Its worth fluctuates through barter, but it is usually enough for four meals per Tik, meaning I am paid 14 meals each day, not counting the meal provided at work, enough to sustain a family. At least it is better money than when I started working when I only got a Tik and a quarter and a meal.

I exit my workplace and walk through the dense streets, careful of not being pickpocketed of my precious money by malnourished poor children or mugged by a street ganger.

I soon reached my dilapidated yet familiar grey home once more, my only security in this dreary world. After entering my home, I looked left and right to see if anyone broke inside, and as expected, no one bothered.

Sighing in relief, I went to a corner of my room, removed a single loose metal board, and pulled out an old, patched sack that jiggled as I took it out. I opened it up and saw the many Tiks inside, my life savings, and what I plan to use to start a family.

After carefully placing the coins inside the sack, putting it back inside the cover, and covering it up once more, I walked to the cabinet and pulled out another can of nutritional paste and a bottle of water, and ate and drank my fill, before giving one more prayer to the God-Emperor and dreamt of proposing to that pure and perfect girl across the assembly line.

Another day in my dismal life, and the cycle begins once more.

 

This is the bleak life I lead, and it is all that I know. If I am lucky to survive long enough, I will partner with that perfect girl across the assembly line and start a family. If I am luckier, I will survive long enough to ensure that some of my offspring will survive to adulthood before I die.

That is my life. That is my fate. That is the cycle I am trapped in, having no way of escaping or even thinking about escaping it.

.

.

.

At least, that is what should have been until something broke that cycle.

 

 

 

As on any other day, during my lunch break, I exchanged glances and smiles with my beloved, considering whether this was the right day to confess.

Just then, the overseer, a clean man with a more complete and unpatched set of clothes walked to the center of the break area and called out.

"Conr! Please step out, Conr!" - The overseer said in a desperate tone.

At first, I thought I was in trouble for something, but the manager seemed anxious, almost desperate, something I only saw when we were in an inspection, just worse.

I stood and walked toward him, lowering my head as usual, "Overseer sir, I am--"

Before I finished speaking, I felt a hand pressing against my shoulder and gently pulling me up.

"You don't need to bow to me anymore, lad. Come with me." - The overseer straightened me out with an expression that looked frightened and nervous. He then pulled my hand, gently at that, toward the manager's office.

"Sir, am I in trouble?" - I asked, frightened.

"Trouble?! Throw away the thought, lad! The manager will explain everything!" - The overseer said in a hurry, sweat dripping from his eyebrows.

"Hah..." - I just blinked, confused at what was happening.

We soon reached the manager's office, a room thrice the size of my little hovel, decorated with a well-made metal desk and shelves filled with precious decorations I cannot afford and paper, each filled with letters and words whose meaning I cannot hope to decipher.

On the side, a familiar and obese and clean man wearing expensive clothes worth hundreds of Tiks stood at the side of his lavish desk like a lackey, sweating buckets as he stared with anxious fright at a man sitting on his managerial chair, an old man wearing ridiculously expensive and lavish clothes I cannot even imagine the worth of, and holding a lit cigar in his hand, something at least a few times more expensive than the cigarette sticks that the overseer seldomly smokes on breaks.

The obese man is my manager, a man who I feared more than respected and seldomly interacted with. As for the man on his seat, I have never seen him before, but I guess that he was above my manager. And there was only one man above the manager.

"Lord!" - I immediately bowed my head with emotion.

My parents and my parents' parents never saw the Lord, but now I did. Not only that, he called upon me himself. I was honored.

"Lad, raise your head. From this day onwards, you only need to bow to the God Emperor and no one else." - The old man said with a calm yet authoritative voice.

"L-Lord?! I--" - I hesitantly raised my head with a mixture of confusion and fright.

"And do not call me as Lord anymore. Only the God Emperor rules over you now. I am Augustine Von Heimgard the 871st, but you may call me Augustine for short." - The old man said calmly.

"L-Lord Augustine, I--" - I greatly hesitated as I said.

"No Lord, just Augustine, or Mr. Augustine if you insist." - The old man corrected again in a composed voice.

"M-Mr. Augustine?" - I asked hesitantly.

The Lord's cold face finally gave an amiable smile.

"That's right. And you must be Mr. Conr, correct? Your citizen number is W5ANWOSLLI, I assume?" - Augustine asked calmly.

"Yes, Lo-- I mean, Mr. Augustine." - I replied.

"Good! Come, Mr. Conr. Sit with me." - The old man gestured to the chair in front, a chair I never sat upon even when I signed my contract with the factory.

"B-But Mr. I am dirty..." - I hesitated and said, afraid to dirty the chair.

"Ah... my apologies, I have been inconsiderate..." - The old man slapped his bald head and exclaimed.

Just as I thought he would ask me to stand, he suddenly said something that almost frightened me till death.

"Chindlr, you fat bloke! Hurry up and get this fine young man cleaned up with soap. And a new set of fitting clean clothes, and the good kind! On the double!" - The old man turned fierce and screamed at the manager.

"Y-Yes, Lord! R-Right away, Lord!" - My manager shook in fear, his fat jiggling as he did. 

The manager then hurried over to me and said humbly, "Please follow me, Sir Conr."

I just blinked and absent-mindedly followed the man. He then got me to remove my clothes and showered me, revealing the scared pale-white skin under all the dust and grime on me and removing the dirt from my hair with soap, making my black hair silky smooth.

He then gave me a set of expensive clothes, befitting a prosperous merchant in the upper quarters or a manager like himself.

I then looked in the mirror and saw my face for the first time without a smudge.

I had a perfectly symmetrical squarish pale face, a straight nose with a small scar, raven-black eyes, thin eyebrows, longish hair, and a scraggly beard I trim once a month. I had a few small scars marring my otherwise flawless face.

As for the clothes, I wore an elegant suit of a fitting size, making me look even more handsome and dashing.

If I didn't know any better, I would think that a guilder or affluent businessman was standing right in front of me.

"Your hair is a bit of a mess, but it will make do..." - The manager murmured beside me.

"Come with me, Sir Conr, we-- I mean, I must not let the Lord wait." - The manager said, correcting himself midway.

"Er... Yes..." - Was the only thing I could answer, still shocked at the turn of events.

I soon returned to the managerial room with the obese manager in front.

Mr. Augustine's eyes lit up as he looked at me.

"Good! That's a fine young lad right there! Although we do need to give you a proper haircut..." - Augustine said while rubbing his goatee.

"I... Thank you?" - I tilted my head and stood there, not knowing how to respond to the compliment.

"Ah, right, right. Come and sit, lad! We have much to talk about." - The old man gestured at the seat in front once more.

This time, only after a slight hesitation, I sat on the chair, trying to keep my back as straight as possible.

"Don't be so nervous, lad. We sit here as equals. Are you perhaps thirsty? Chindlr! Bring him some juice! The best you have in your pathetic stuck." - The old man tried to soothe me while barking orders at my manager.

I would have found it hilarious if I wasn't feeling so surreal right now.

"Mr. Augustine, what is juice?" - I asked, confused.

"Ah, it's good stuff. I am sure you will like it." - Augustine said with a wide smile.

"So, tell me about yourself, Conr? How long have you worked here?" - The old man asked kindly.

"All my life, Mr. Augustine. My parents and my father's father have also worked here." - I said honestly.

"Ah! A child I have almost raised myself! Marvelous!" - Augustine said joyfully as the manager respectfully placed two expensive-looking cups for the both of us, a yellowish liquid inside and transparent white cubes floating on top.

"100% preserved Erana juice, Lord and sir, with added ice cubes." - The manager said subserviently.

"Hrm, I would have preferred a fresher one, but oh well. Cheer's lad!" - Augustine picked up his cup and toasted.

"Er... Cheers?" - I copied him and raised my mug in the air idly, which Augustine clanked.

I saw Mr. Augustine drinking his juice while I stared idly at mine.

"What are you doing, lad? Drink! Drink!" - Augustine urged.

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and took a sip. The moment that the liquid entered my mouth, I tasted something divine. Its taste was something I could not describe in words, for I only knew the words salty and bitter. My mouth didn't stop as I slowly drank this heavenly nectar, tears welling in my eyes, afraid that it be the last time I got to drink such a divine thing.

"Drink, lad, drink! There is more where that came from!" - Augustine urged, so I drank more. The slightly cold and heavenly liquid made me feel refreshed far more than any water could.

I soon finished the cup, not daring to let even a drop get wasted as I audibly slurped what was left. After I finished the cup, I gently placed it back down, my eyes teary with emotion.

"Well, how was it? Good, right?" - Augustine said with a smile.

"Y-Yes, Mr. Augustine. It was the best thing I have ever tasted. I can't even describe the taste..." - I said wholeheartedly.

"It is called sweet and slightly sour, lad, two of the four major tastes we humans have." - The old man explained as if he could read my mind.

"R-Really? Such a thing exists?" - I asked numbly.

"Yes, there is salty, bitter, sweet, and sour." - The old man nodded sagely.

"I-I see..." - I said numbly.

"Oh, right. So tell me, how do you feel about the factory? Did anyone bully or mistreat you?" - Augustine suddenly asked with a kindly smile.

From the corners of my eyes, I could see the overseer and manager suddenly shaking like a motor engine, discreetly shaking their heads with deathly afraid faces.

"N-No, Mr. Augustine, I was treated well." - For the first time since I was born, I lied to someone, yet I don't know why. Such a strange feeling.

Both the manager and overseer seemed to be incredibly relieved and shot me grateful looks. Why is that?

"Good! (At least someone has been doing their job right...)" - Augustine said and then muttered something I couldn't catch.

"So, tell me about yourself, lad! Do you have some friends? Family? A lover, perhaps?" - Augustine said with an amiable look.

"My parents died, and my other siblings either died, got recruited, or I lost contact with them. I don't have any friends... But there is that one girl I want to confess to..." - I said and then meekly mumbled at the end while lowering my head.

I did not notice it as my head was lowered, but a cunning gleam flashed in the old man's eyes as his mouth arced strangely, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

"So you do have a girl you like!" - Augustine smiled amiably.

"Y-Yes..." - I said meekly.

"Well, tell me about her then, lad!" - Augustine said with interest.

I then started fervently talking with Augustine about that girl across the assembly line whose name was Maev, oblivious to the signals Augustine sent to the manager and overseer, who at some point exited the room.

After I finished talking, Augustine nodded and said, "Hm, a fine girl to a fine young man! Well, Mr. Conr, I believe you must want to know why I have called you here and why I am treating you so well."

I widened my eyes as only now did I wake up from the trance I was in before.

"That's right. Why is he treating me so well?" - I thought in wonder.

Seeing me go silent, Augustine continued, his expression turning fervent, "It is because you have been selected by the God Emperor himself, lad! You got chosen to represent our planet in HIS games."

"...Ha?"