Chương 4: Chapter 3: The Graveyard Shift

Berkeley's mornings were chaotic in their own earthy, coffee-scented way. Students zipped past on bikes and scooters, caffeinated and frantic. Gideon and Max waded through it together like two boulders in a stream. A group of students nearly clipped Gideon as they swerved past. Max grabbed the back of Gideon's hoodie and pulled him out of the way.

"Dude. Eyes up," Max said.

"Huh? I was thinking."

"You're always thinking. That's the problem." Max nudged him with an elbow, a small grin tugging at his mouth. They walked through the campus courtyard, passing stressed undergrads, clubs tabling with cheap candy, and someone loudly playing a saxophone for reasons unknown. Max bumped his shoulder a few minutes later.

"So? You gonna tell me what your professor said about your paper?" Gideon's smile slipped out before he could hide it.

"He said he wants to submit it to an undergraduate journal." Max whooped loud enough that half the courtyard looked over.

"That's awesome! Good shit, man." Gideon flushed as Max thumped his back hard enough to almost send him flying into a passing student. They bought lunch from a food truck, Gideon choosing something sensible and nutritious, Max something fried enough to violate several state laws, and sat on the steps watching campus life rush around them. Max nudged him again.

"We're really doing it, man. College. Together, just like we imagined." Gideon exhaled, looking at the old stone buildings glowing under the slowly rising sun.

"Yeah. We really are." They had claimed a table on the third floor of the Moffitt Library later that day, surrounded by silent students and the smell of overworked printers. Max struggled through a biology assignment, brows furrowed, while Gideon annotated his notes from a lecture earlier in the morning. Max groaned and rubbed at his temples.

"Why does mitochondria have to be so annoying?" Gideon didn't look up.

"Because. It hates you personally."

"Feels like it," Max muttered. He tossed his pencil onto the desk and stared at the paper before him like it might attack him. Gideon took the paper and looked over it for a few moments. He scribbled quickly in his notebook, tore the page out, and slid a diagram toward Max as he returned the assignment paper.

"Here. Look at this. You're mixing up the aerobic and anaerobic pathways again." Max stared, then sighed.

"Thanks man. You're a lifesaver."

"I know." Max smacked him lightly with his notebook. Gideon just grinned at him. They worked there for hours until the sky began to darken, then wandered back to their apartment under the glow of streetlights, talking about nothing and everything all at once. That night, their cramped apartment buzzed with the hum of electronics. Max lay sprawled across the couch, controller in hand, while Gideon sat cross-legged on the floor with a keyboard.

"Left!" Gideon barked.

"I am left!" Max snapped.

"Not left enough!"

"You're the worst backseat gamer on earth!" Max yelled as their characters died a fiery death. Gideon smirked.

"At least I didn't run directly into the grenade." Max lowered his controller and gave him a flat look.

"Say that again, and I'm unplugging your keyboard." Gideon stared straight at him.

"That again." Max narrowed his eyes.

"Clever little shit," he muttered under his breath with a soft laugh as they started a new match. They ended the night sprawled on opposite ends of the couch, half-asleep. Gideon watched Max doze off, noting the steady breathing, the relaxed posture. His closest friend, the closest thing to home he had here. He got up and grabbed a blanket, covering Max with it before heading to his bedroom to change for work.

A few minutes later, he left the apartment as quietly as he could, keys tucked in his fist so they wouldn't jingle, and stepped out into the cool night waiting beyond the door. To him, it was just another shift after just another night. He didn't know it was one of the last quiet nights they'd share. The sun had barely scraped over the Berkeley skyline, bleeding pale gold across the convenience store windows.

The glass rattled each time an early commuter sped down the street, but inside, the world felt muffled, heavy, half-asleep. Gideon sat slouched behind the counter, elbows planted on cheap laminate, a battered paperback propped open in front of him, laptop sitting closed nearby. His unruly brown hair fell into his eyes, shadowing the deep fatigue carved under them. Three nights of back-to-back graveyard shifts had hollowed him out.

The fluorescent lights did him no favors, washing out his already pale skin and giving him the look of someone halfway between college student and ghost. He rubbed his face, yawned into his wrist, and tried to remember when he'd last slept more than four hours at a time. The bell above the door jingled.

"Hey, Gid. How's it going tonight?" Max filled the doorway like the store was too small for him. He was a wall of a man at six foot four, shoulders broad enough to block the rising light outside. Months of warehouse work had built him into something solid, muscle packed into his arms and chest in a way that made every shirt fight for survival. His stubble had thickened into something almost beard-like, and dust clung to his jacket.

Despite his size, he carried himself with a kind of quiet awkwardness, gaze flicking away as though unsure whether he was taking up too much space.

"You're off at eight, right?"

"Yeah. Can't wait to rediscover what my bed feels like. Tonight refuses to end." Max snorted and dropped a bottle of orange juice on the counter.

"Yeah, well… you look like shit, if that helps."

"Compliment accepted." Gideon scanned the bottle and handed it back.

"Coming from you, that's rich. You look like you tried to bench-press a forklift." Max tapped his phone to the card reader. It beeped.

"Maybe I did." He cracked a grin, brief but bright enough to shift his whole face.

"Someone's gotta move the heavy stuff. Not like you could lift more than a mouse."

"Keyboard warrior," Gideon said.

"Deadly online, useless in real life." He flexed his thin arms in a mock show of strength.

"One day you're gonna throw out your back from typing too fast," Max shot back. Their laughter carried softly through the quiet store. It was comfortable and familiar. They'd been this way since they were six. Even here, in a tiny Berkeley convenience store at dawn, they fell back into their familiar rhythm without effort. Max reached back absently and rubbed at his wrist. The motion was small, but it was stiff. Gideon noticed immediately.

"Sit," he said. Max blinked.

"What?"

"Sit," Gideon repeated, already pulling out the chair behind the counter. Max hesitated, then sighed, walked behind the counter and dropped into it.

"It's nothing, man."

"Yeah, right. Show me." Max rolled his sleeve up. A dark bruise was already blooming beneath the skin, swelling just enough to be obvious. Gideon swore under his breath and disappeared into the back, returning with a cold pack wrapped in a towel. He pressed it gently against Max's wrist.

"Hold that there." Max hissed.

"Okay. Yeah. That hurts."

"What happened?."

"A box shifted from a stack and fell. I caught it weird, tweaked my wrist a bit. It's fine," Max said quickly.

"I can still work."

"Sure. I assume you didn't file a report, right?" Gideon asked. Max's shoulders tightened.

"Nah, bro. I didn't want to make it a whole thing." Gideon leaned against the counter, arms crossed.

"You didn't answer the question." Max stared at the floor like a scolded child.

"They were already behind. The supervisor was stressed. I didn't want to slow everything down."

"And if this turns into something worse?" Gideon asked.

"If it starts tingling, or you lose feeling, or it doesn't heal right?" Max shrugged with one shoulder.

"Then I deal with it."

"With what money?" Gideon asked quietly. That got Max's attention.

"I just don't want to be a problem," Max said after a moment. Gideon crouched in front of him so they were eye level. He reached out and flicked Max right between the eyes.

"Ow."

"Hey, dumbass. You filing a report is the system working the way it's supposed to," he said.

"You're not making trouble. You're documenting that you got hurt doing your job. If you don't, and this comes back on you later, they'll say it didn't happen there. Trust me, companies don't care about you. Any opportunity to fuck you over, they'll take it, especially if it saves them money." Max frowned.

"I'm not trying to sue anybody."

"I know," Gideon said.

"This isn't about that. This is about protecting yourself." A pause.

"You don't have to make a scene," Gideon continued.

"Just facts. Date. Time. What you were lifting. Who was nearby. That's it." Stolen story; please report. Max looked down at his wrist again.

"What if they get pissed?"

"Then they get pissed," Gideon said.

"And you're still covered. If they retaliate, that's a different problem. One we can deal with." Max looked up.

"We?"

"Yes, obviously." The silence stretched for a moment.

"…Okay," Max said eventually.

"I'll report it."

"Good," Gideon said. He pulled open his laptop and opened a blank Word document.

"You talk, I type. I'll email it to you so you can send it to them later." Max groaned.

"You really don't let things go."

"Yeah man. I grew up watching my parents document everything," Gideon said.

"As much as I dislike their world, they're successful, and they wouldn't be doing all that if it wasn't important." Max nodded slowly.

"Alright, yeah, I get it. Let's do it." They filled out the report together. Gideon typed while Max talked him through what happened. When it was done, Gideon read it once, changed a few words, nodded, and turned the laptop back towards Max.

"Boring," he said.

"Perfect." Max leaned back.

"Guess it's good I've got you watching my back."

"That's just what you do for a friend," Gideon replied. Max grinned.

"Ten more minutes," Gideon added, checking the clock.

"Then the diner. Your treat." Max opened his juice.

"Only if you don't fall asleep into your omelet again."

"That happened once."

"Twice." Gideon rolled his eyes and yawned into his fist. Outside, four young kids were walking down the sidewalk, backpacks bouncing. They cut through the gas station, on the way to their bus stop. Gideon barely noticed. Then came the sound. Screeching filled the chill morning air. Tires screamed against the pavement. A car fishtailed around the corner far too fast. Gideon and Max watched as it careened toward the gas pumps outside. Max's voice went serious.

"Gideon." The headlights sliced across the lot. The car didn't slow. It sped into the lot, clipped the curb, spun out of control, and sparks showered from underneath. The kids froze, panic in their eyes. Gideon moved without thinking. He vaulted the counter, sprinting before thought could catch up. Max following close behind him.

"Move!" Gideon shouted at them, but the children stood paralyzed by fear. The car slammed hard into Pump 2. Metal screamed as the pump bent sideways. Gasoline erupted in a glittering spray, drenching the concrete, the air suddenly thick with fumes. Gideon reached the nearest boy and shoved him toward the curb. The boy stumbled but stayed upright.

"Move, move, move!" Max grabbed a girl by the waist and spun her out of the path of the geysering gasoline. The third kid tripped and fell as he finally began to react. The unconscious driver of the car slumped over the wheel as sparks continued to shower the area. Flames sparked along the gasoline trail. Max scooped up the fourth child effortlessly, throwing the girl over his shoulder.

"Run!" he barked. Gideon lunged for the fallen boy, grabbed his backpack and shirt, and hurled him toward the others with desperate strength. The boy landed awkwardly but rolled. His friends dragged him to his feet and ran. The flames were nearly at the pump. They were too close now. They were out of time. Max saw it just as Gideon did, and dropped to the ground and spread himself out over the little girl. She struggled against him, but Max was immovable.

Gideon threw himself beside him, curling his body around the child under Max. The fire reached the pump. Gideon met Max's eyes. The pump exploded. Light. Heat. Sound. Then everything vanished in a blooming roar. When Gideon opened his eyes again, he saw only white. Endless, blinding white. He staggered upright out of habit, though there was no floor beneath him. His balance held only because the world, if it could be called that, allowed it. There was nothing here. No surface. No edge. No horizon.

Just a colorless expanse so absolute it felt like standing inside a blank page. He tried to speak, and the sound was swallowed immediately, so utterly consumed by a silence so dense it pressed against him like invisible stone. Then he heard something. A soft chime, clear as glass tapping glass, echoed in his head. A figure appeared, about three feet tall, its outline humanoid but vague, like someone had sculpted a person from light and then forgotten to fill in the details. It pulsed gently, neither warm nor cold.

The tiny being lifted its hands towards Gideon. A rectangular pane of glowing script suddenly shimmered into existence in front of Gideon, floating at eye level. It looked absurdly familiar, like the clean interface of a game menu. [Welcome, Gideon.] [You have been Chosen.] The words pulsed once, then shifted. [Prepare to make your selections. Ready?] A single prompt blinked under the words: [Proceed] Gideon swallowed hard. His pulse hammered in his chest.

He turned in a slow circle, but the screen rotated with him, always in front of his eyes, refusing to be ignored. He looked past it and found the faintly glowing figure still there. Watching, maybe. It was hard to tell with no features, but the feeling of being observed was unmistakable. He focused on the figure again and moved closer. He needed answers. He didn't know how he did it, but the screen floating before him disappeared.

"What… what is this?" he whispered when he got close to the figure.

"Where am I? Am I… am I dead?" The figure tilted its head with uncanny smoothness. The answer didn't come as sound. It struck inside his skull, a voice cold and measured, devoid of emotion.

"Yes. You are dead. This place is passage." The finality of it hit like a hammer. Panic surged sharp and immediate, threatening to scatter his thoughts. Gideon caught it and locked it down behind slow, practiced breaths. Panicking wouldn't change what had already happened. The being in front of him had no reason to lie to him, so Gideon decided, for now, to believe him.

"You will be placed elsewhere," the voice continued. Gideon swallowed.

"Elsewhere? What does that mean? Another… plane? Heaven? Hell? Something else?"

"A new world," the being replied.

"A living world, but not the one you know." His chest tightened.

"Why? Who are you?"

"I am an Adjudicator. I govern passage. Change. I manage choices."

"That's not exactly an answer." The figure remained still. His mind suddenly snapped back to the heat and light and sound tearing the world around him apart. To Max's face set in grim resolve. And the kids. His voice cracked despite himself.

"The children. The four kids. Did they make it? Did they survive at least?"

"Yes," the Adjudicator answered immediately.

"The four survived. They sustained injuries, but they lived. You and your companion successfully shielded the final child from the blast." Relief slammed into Gideon like a physical force. He felt his knees weaken. Good. Good, they lived. He hadn't died for nothing. He clung to that for a moment, grounding himself in it. Then the voice continued.

"The System registered this act. Due to your selfless actions, you were marked."

"Marked," Gideon echoed. The figure kept speaking, "That mark grants you a second chance at life." The panic stirred again, quieter now, edged with disbelief. Gideon forced it down and let cold logic take the wheel. A situation existed. That meant it could be navigated.

"A second chance," he said slowly.

"So this is… something like reincarnation?"

"Yes." Gideon's mind surged forward, grabbing at the first practical questions it could find.

"How does it work? Am I going to be reborn as a baby?"

"No."

"Then what," Gideon pressed, words coming faster now.

"Do I wake up in a new body? Am I… teleported into the new world as I was?"

"You will be placed into a new body," the Adjudicator replied.

"You will awaken within it."

"At what age?" Gideon asked immediately.

"Do I start from scratch, or do I just appear somewhere?"

"You will not be returned to infancy," the Adjudicator said.

"You will awaken at a stage deemed viable based on your selection here." Gideon latched onto the next thing.

"And what about my memories? Do I keep them?"

"Yes."

"Everything?" he demanded.

"Earth, school, Berkeley, Max, all of it?"

"Yes." His throat tightened.

"Do I get to choose where in this new world I end up? What time period? What language the people speak? What kind of place it is?" No response. Gideon swallowed and tried another angle.

"Do I get any kind of warning about what I'm walking into? Dangers, monsters, diseases, anything?" Still nothing. He stared at the Adjudicator.

"You're not answering all my questions." The reply came, as flat as ever.

"You have been told all that you are permitted to know." Gideon's jaw flexed. He wanted to argue. He wanted to demand more. But he could feel the limits of this exchange like walls he couldn't push through. He changed tactics instead.

"Can I go back to Earth?"

"No. That door is closed to you forever." The words hit him hard. No ambiguity there. No ability to second guess or interpret another meaning. He appreciated it in a way, although his heart was threatening to beat out of chest. He closed his eyes, breathed once, then opened them again. Earth was apparently gone to him. Wanting to go back would not make it so.

"All right," he said.

"Then tell me this. Will I ever come back here? To this place."

"This is not a destination," the Adjudicator replied.

"It is a threshold. You will not return unless the System requires it."

"And if I die again?" Gideon asked. The question came out smaller than he wanted it to.

"What happens if I die in this new world?" A pause. Not silence, but the sense of rules being consulted.

"Death remains death," the voice said after a moment.

"The System may register it. The System may not. I do not speculate." So that was it. One more chance. No guarantees. Gideon nodded once.

"And Max?" he asked quietly.

"My friend. Is he… here? Somewhere?"

"Your companion's fate is not for you to know," the Adjudicator replied.

"Paths diverge. Some cross again. Some do not."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Gideon whispered.

"Is he alive? Is he dead? Did he get sent somewhere else? Did he—" He cut himself off before he started to spiral. The Adjudicator didn't answer. Gideon sighed, and turned his attention away from the figure. He was surprised to see the screen before him once again, but chalked it up to magical mumbo jumbo. As he looked at it, he saw only the steady, patient pulse of the word [Proceed] hovering in front of him. Gideon stared at it until his eyes burned.

He couldn't go back. He couldn't change what had happened. He couldn't force answers out of something that operated on rules he didn't understand. What he could do was move forward. He exhaled slowly.

"Fine," he murmured.

"Fine. Let's get this over with." He pointed at the screen.

"Proceed." Nothing. He tried to tap it, and his hand passed straight through the glowing pane.

"Oh, come on," he muttered. He tried everything he could think of.

"Proceed. Start. Begin. Activate. Go. Confirm. Open sesame." He felt a bit silly at that last attempt, but figured it was worth a shot. Still, nothing happened. He glared at the prompt.

"Seriously?" He imagined punching it.

The moment the thought formed, the screen shimmered and shifted. Gideon froze.

"…Okay," he muttered.

"Mental input. Great. Nothing weird about that at all." He took another deep breath to steady himself.

"Just go with the flow, I guess." The text rearranged itself quickly and smoothly. [Race Selection] A list populated beneath the header. Gideon mentally scrolled, and the options unfurled downward. And downward. And downward. Human. Elf. Dwarf. Halfling. Orc. Dragonkin. Dozens upon dozens of races followed, some familiar from games, others completely alien to him. He kept scrolling until the very bottom, where one option sat apart from the rest. [Randomize Race: +1 Unique Perk, +5 Stat Points] He raised an eyebrow.

"That's ominous. Tempting. Probably stupid…" He trailed off, attention shifting past the screen again. The Adjudicator stood in the same place, still and patient.

"Hey, Adjudicator. If I pick something normal, like Human, what happens?" Gideon asked.

"And this Randomize option at the bottom. Can you tell me more about that?" The voice answered him instantly.

"Choosing a specific race grants you only its racial bonuses and two Stat Points to apply as you see fit. Randomize selects a race from the list for you at random, granting its regular bonuses, and awards five additional Stat Points as well as one randomly assigned Unique Perk."

"Unique Perk meaning…?"

"A Perk unique to the world to which you will be sent."

"Right," Gideon muttered, mentally facepalming.

"Of course. Should've guessed." He shifted his gaze back to the screen, and stared hard at the list. The safe option was obvious. Familiar and predictable. A clean starting point. A body he would be familiar with. But, randomizing his race meant seven Stat Points total. And a Perk he'd never get otherwise. In a world that apparently came with a System and an Adjudicator and choices that felt like game menus, that kind of advantage could be the difference between surviving and not. He ran the math.

By his estimation, if he chose random, he had a thirty-ish percent chance of getting something survivable, based on what he recognized. Maybe more. Maybe less. He had no way to know for sure. He had always chosen safe paths. Always picked the predictable option. Always avoided risk whenever he had the option. He sighed, knowing his decision was already made.

"New life," he murmured.

"New me. What's the worst that could happen?" He winced as he spoke the words, but it was too late now. He mentally selected Randomize Race. The white world around him brightened slowly, swelling until he could no longer make out the Adjudicator's small form. Within seconds, the bright glow swallowed everything. Gideon had to shield his eyes as the light continued brightening. Then, suddenly, and without warning, it all collapsed into black.