2026-01-25 18:11:34Evan ran. His boots slapped against the wet metal of the walkway. His breath came in short, painful gasps.
It felt like breathing through a straw. He did not look back. He knew they were there.
He could hear their heavy footsteps. They were calm. They were not running. They did not need to run.
Evan turned a corner and slipped. His shoulder hit a brick wall. Pain shot down his arm, but he pushed off and kept moving. He looked at his left wrist. The bio-screen embedded in his skin was glowing with a harsh red light.
Current Balance: 2 Minutes.
Future Projection: 0.00.
Zero.
The number made his stomach turn. In this city, time was not just money. It was life. If the projection hit zero, the system marked you as "Expired."
"End of the line, Evan," a voice boomed.
Evan stopped. He was in a dead-end alley. A high fence blocked his path. It was covered in razor wire. He spun around.
Two men stood at the entrance of the alley. They wore matte-black armor. They had no badges, only the symbol of the Time Bank on their chests—an hourglass with a skull inside. These were not police. They were Enforcers. They were the janitors of the timeline. They cleaned up the mess.
The man on the left was huge, wide as a door. The man on the right was tall and thin, holding a shock-baton that buzzed like an angry wasp.
"Please," Evan said. He held up his hands. His hands were shaking. "I was tricked. My time was swapped at the exchange. I just need a loan. One day. Give me twenty-four hours. I can fix this."
The Tall Man stepped forward. He checked a small tablet in his hand. The light from the screen made his face look pale and ghostly.
"Request denied," the Tall Man said. His voice was flat. It sounded like a machine. "Evan Kennedy. You have three defaults. Your credit score is negative. You are a waste of resources."
"I can work!" Evan shouted. He backed up until his back hit the cold fence. "I can sell...I can sell memories!"
"We don't want memories," the Wide Man grunted. "We want the space you are taking up."
The Tall Man nodded. "Proceed with collection."
They moved fast.
Evan tried to fight. He threw a clumsy punch at the Wide Man. It was like hitting a wall of stone. The Wide Man didn't even blink. He grabbed Evan’s arm and twisted it.
Crack.
Evan screamed. The sound tore out of his throat. He fell to his knees in the dirty puddle. The pain was white and hot.
"Asset is resistant," the Wide Man said, bored.
The Tall Man swung the shock-baton. It hit Evan in the ribs.
The world went white. Evan’s muscles locked up. He fell onto his side, twitching. The electricity cooked his nerves. He could smell singed hair and ozone.
Then came the kicks. One to the stomach. Evan gagged. One to the back. Evan curled into a ball. One to the face. Evan tasted copper blood.
He tried to crawl, dragging his broken body through the mud. He looked at his wrist again.
Current Balance: 12 Seconds.
He was going to die here. In the mud. Alone.
"He is done," the Tall Man said. He tapped his earpiece. "Clean up on Aisle 4. We have a default."
The Wide Man grabbed Evan by the collar of his jacket. He lifted Evan up as if he weighed nothing. Evan’s legs dangled uselessly.
"Where do we put it?" the Wide Man asked.
"The transit tunnel," the Tall Man pointed to a rusted grate in the floor. "Nobody goes down there. Let the rats have the rest of his time."
They dragged him to the grate. The Wide Man kicked the metal cover open. Below, there was only blackness and the sound of rushing water.
"Goodbye, Evan," the Tall Man said.
They threw him.
Evan fell. He hit the side of the tunnel, tumbled, and crashed onto a pile of wet trash. The impact knocked the last bit of air from his lungs. He lay there, unable to move.
It was dark. So dark he couldn't see his own hands. The smell was terrible—rot, old oil, and dead things.
He tried to open his eyes, but one was swollen shut. With his good eye, he stared up at the circle of faint light far above. It looked like a distant moon. Then, the strangeness started.
Evan tried to blink. He felt his eyelid move, but the image of the tunnel didn't change for three seconds.
He tried to groan. He opened his mouth, but the sound didn't come out until after he had closed his mouth.
Lag.
His brain was disconnecting from reality. It was a side effect of hitting zero. The universe was deleting him.
He lifted his hand. Or he thought he did. He saw his hand rise in front of his face, leaving a trail of light behind it, like a blurry photograph. The colors were wrong. The grey tunnel walls turned purple, then neon green.
Thump-thump.
His heart beat. But the sound echoed. Thump... thump... thump...
"Is this death?" Evan thought. The words floated in his mind like smoke.
The sensory distortion got worse. The sound of dripping water sounded like screaming. The smell of rot turned into the smell of burning sugar. His body felt heavy, then weightless, then heavy again.
He checked his wrist one last time. The screen was cracked.
0.00.
It was over. The Enforcers had won. The debt was paid. Evan closed his single working eye. He let the darkness take him. He waited for the end.
Bzzt.
A noise. Not from the tunnel. Inside his head.
Bzzt. Click.
Evan opened his eye.
The darkness was not empty anymore. A blue light flickered. It was not coming from a lamp. It was floating in the air, right in front of his face. It was a transparent overlay, like a computer screen, but it was projected directly onto his retina.
The blue light pulsed. It pushed back the dark. It pushed back the pain.
Letters began to type themselves across his vision. They were crisp and sharp.
SYSTEM ERROR.
SUBJECT DISCONNECTED.
Evan tried to focus. Was he hallucinating?
The text scrolled up.
SEARCHING FOR BACKUP...
BACKUP NOT FOUND.
INITIATING EMERGENCY PROTOCOL 9.
Evan’s heart hammered against his ribs. The time lag vanished. The colors snapped back to grey. The pain in his arm returned, sharp and real.
The blue text blinked three times, faster and faster.
TEMPORAL ASSET MANAGER — RECOVERY MODE
STATUS: ONLINE.
RELOADING SAVE FILE? [Y/N]
Evan stared at the floating words. He did not know what they meant. But he knew one thing.
He was not dead yet.
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CHAPTER 9
The room was dark, but Evan squinted against a bright, blue light. The light did not come from a lamp. It did not come from the moon outside his window.The light came from inside his own eyes.Evan sat on the edge of his bed. His hands shook. He grabbed a glass of water from the nightstand, but his fingers were too weak. The glass slipped. It hit the floor with a loud smash. Water soaked into the rug.Evan did not look down. He could not look down. Floating in the air, right in front of his face, was a box made of light. It looked like a computer screen, but it was transparent. He tried to wave his hand through it. His fingers passed through the air, but the text remained.SYSTEM INITIALIZED.USER: EVAN KENNEDY.STATUS: ACTIVE."Stop," Evan whispered. His voice was raspy. "What is this?"The text changed instantly. It responded to his voice.IDENTITY: PROTOTYPE DECISION ENGINE (UNFINISHED).PURPOSE: RISK MANAGEMENT.METHOD: BIOLOGICAL TIME HEDGING.Evan read the words three times. Th
CHAPTER 8
Evan ran. His boots slapped against the wet metal of the walkway. His breath came in short, painful gasps. It felt like breathing through a straw. He did not look back. He knew they were there. He could hear their heavy footsteps. They were calm. They were not running. They did not need to run.Evan turned a corner and slipped. His shoulder hit a brick wall. Pain shot down his arm, but he pushed off and kept moving. He looked at his left wrist. The bio-screen embedded in his skin was glowing with a harsh red light.Current Balance: 2 Minutes.Future Projection: 0.00.Zero.The number made his stomach turn. In this city, time was not just money. It was life. If the projection hit zero, the system marked you as "Expired.""End of the line, Evan," a voice boomed.Evan stopped. He was in a dead-end alley. A high fence blocked his path. It was covered in razor wire. He spun around.Two men stood at the entrance of the alley. They wore matte-black armor. They had no badges, only the symbo
CHAPTER 7
The elevator did not stop at the rookie floor. It kept going up. The metal box shook and groaned. Evan looked at the screen above the door. The numbers climbed higher and higher.Level 4. High Stakes.The doors opened with a hiss. The air here was different. Downstairs, the rookie pits smelled like sweat and fear. Here, it smelled cold. It smelled like ozone and expensive cologne. The carpet was thick and red, like dried blood."Move," the guard behind Evan said. He shoved Evan forward.Evan stumbled into the arena. It was not a big, loud stadium. It was a small, round room. The walls were made of dark glass. Spectators stood behind the glass, watching silently. They held drinks in their hands. They were not cheering. They were studying.In the center of the room stood a table. It was black and shiny. On the other side of the table waited a man.He was old. In this city, being old was rare. It meant you won a lot. It meant you stole a lot of time from others. His hair was white, and h
CHAPTER 6
The pen felt heavier than a brick. It was a sleek, black pen, but in Evan’s hand, it felt like a weapon. He looked down at the paper on the metal desk. The paper was thick and cream-colored. The words were small, but the message was giant.Contract of Temporal Exchange.Evan took a deep breath. The air in the room smelled like rubbing alcohol and old money. He looked at the bottom of the page. The line for his signature waited. If he signed, there was no going back. If he didn't sign, he stayed poor and desperate.He pressed the pen to the paper. His hand shook a little. He wrote his name. Evan Kennedy.As soon as he lifted the pen, the black bracelet on his left wrist buzzed. It was a sharp pain, like a bee sting. Evan gasped and grabbed his wrist. The bracelet was made of smooth, dark glass. Suddenly, numbers flashed under the glass in bright red light.PROJECTED LIFESPAN: 03 Years, 02 Months, 14 Days.Evan stared. His mouth went dry. He was nineteen years old, but according to this
CHAPTER 5
“Just sell five years.” The words hung in the air.That would pay the debt. That would save his father. That would leave money leftover for food, for a new bike, for a heater in the winter.Five years.Evan was only nineteen. He had plenty of years. If he lived to be eighty, what was the difference if he died at seventy-five?He looked at the man in the suit. The man looked like a devil selling water in a desert.Evan shook his head and walked away, but the number stayed in his mind. Fifty thousand.Room 304 was small. It had no window. There was only one bed and a machine that beeped with a slow, steady rhythm.Beep... beep... beep.His father, Arthur, lay on the bed. He looked very small. His skin was gray, like old paper. There were tubes in his nose and a wire attached to his chest.Evan walked to the side of the bed. He pulled a metal chair close and sat down."Dad?" he whispered.Arthur’s eyelids fluttered. They opened slowly. His eyes were cloudy. It took him a moment to focus
CHAPTER 4
The rain in the lower city did not wash things clean. It only made the dirt wet. It turned the dust into gray mud that stuck to boots and tires.Evan pushed his bicycle through the mud. The bike was not new, but it was fast. It had a frame made of blue metal that shone even in the dark. He had built it himself from scrap parts over three years. It was his freedom. It was the only way he could travel to the upper levels to look for work.Today, it was just money.He stopped in front of a shop with a blinking yellow sign. The sign said: GRIX’S GOODS – WE BUY ANYTHING.Evan took a deep breath. The air smelled like burning plastic and old oil. He pushed the bike through the door. A bell rang above his head.Inside, the shop was full of junk. There were piles of old clothes, broken toasters, and screens with cracked glass. Behind a tall counter sat Mr. Grix. He was a large man with grease on his chin and a robotic eye that zoomed in and out with a soft whirring sound."I don't need wheels,
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