Chapter 3
I wake to the sound of coughing. My heart lurches as I realize it's Lexi. She's sitting up beside me in the gray pre-dawn light, shoulders quaking as a ragged cough wracks her small frame.
"Lex? Hey, you okay?" I sit up, rubbing her back. Her forehead is pressed against her knees as she tries to stifle the noise.
She nods weakly, but her coughing fit continues for a few more seconds before subsiding. She takes a shuddering breath and looks at me with watery eyes. "S-sorry," she whispers, voice hoarse.
I frown with worry. Lexi doesn't tend to get sick – we've been lucky, and she's a tough kid – but the nights out here can be damp and chilly. And yesterday's acid drizzle probably didn't help even with the poncho.
"Don't apologize." I feel her forehead with the back of my hand. She's a bit warm. Not a full-blown fever, I think, but definitely not great. "You feeling ill? Sore throat?"
She shrugs, then admits, "Throat's scratchy. And I'm kinda cold."
I pull the blanket tighter around her and give a reassuring smile. "We probably overdid it yesterday. You sang in the morning chill, then ran around in the rain." My guts twist with guilt; I should've been more careful with her. "Today, you're resting. No arguments."
"But—" she starts, and I raise an eyebrow.
"Nope. Big brother says rest, doctor's orders," I insist, trying to lighten the mood with a playful tone. "We can skip any jobs until you feel better."
Lexi opens her mouth to protest – likely about lost income – but a little sneeze changes her mind. "Okay," she croaks.
The camp is still mostly asleep around us. The neon glow has given way to early morning gloom. I rummage in my bag and produce the water bottle, letting Lexi sip. She grimaces as it goes down her raw throat.
I don't like that cough. It could just be a minor cold… or something worse like the smog flu that goes around. Many homeless end up with respiratory issues because of the air quality down here. We can't afford to ignore this.
I mentally weigh our options. We have some credits now – enough to maybe get proper medicine or at least lozenges. Or I could try to find a free clinic or one of those corporate-run aid vans.
Then I recall the billboard we saw: Aurora Enterprises Free Clinic, District 3. That's not too far via mag-lev, and if they run a mobile clinic, maybe they have a schedule of where it goes. Perhaps I can find it. Free medical care for Lexi would be a godsend.
The System decides to interject in my thoughts, "Logical plan: Seek medical attention from charitable source. Cost-efficient and increases survival odds for dependent. Approved." It almost sounds not-sarcastic, as if Lexi's health has triggered its pragmatic side.
Glad you agree, I think wryly.
I gently shake out the blanket and pack up our things. Lexi coughs a couple more times as she stands, and I notice she's shivering despite wearing both her dress and jacket. I only have my hoodie, but I wrap it around her too, zippering it up like an oversized robe. She looks like a little brown-eyed owl peeking out of a fuzzy cocoon.
"Stay close, and if you feel worse tell me right away," I instruct. She nods, leaning into me.
We set off through the waking slums. Dawn is creeping in, and with it comes the routine sounds of a city rousing: distant traffic hum, vendors unloading crates, babies crying in cramped apartments above. I hold Lexi's hand firmly. She's quieter than usual, not even commenting on the morning sights. That worries me.
At the tram station, I decide not to risk another turnstile jump with Lexi feeling weak – if she stumbled or we got caught, too risky. Instead, I bite the bullet and buy two tickets with our physical credits. 4 credits gone, but at least we can ride easy.
The mag-lev whisking us to District 3 is half-empty and blissfully warm. Lexi slumps against my side, eyes closed. I think she dozes a bit on the ride. I keep an arm around her to steady her, and catch our reflections in the window. She really doesn't look well – a bit pale, dark circles under eyes. It sends a spike of fear through me.
Quest Prompt: Suddenly an alert pops up:
[Quest: Get Medicine for Lexi – Find treatment or medicine for your sick sister. Reward: +10 XP, ??? Credits]
The triple question mark catches my eye. Unspecified credits? Or maybe some other reward. The System typically values money, so maybe it'll reimburse what I spend or something?
Still, seeing it formalize my sister's care as a quest… It both reassures me (the System acknowledges helping her as worthy) and irritates me (of course I'd do it without any reward).
"You'd be useless to me if your sister perished, after all," the System says, as if reading my reaction. Its tone is almost defensive. "And this obviously qualifies as a 'good deed' – altruism is usually defined as helping others without personal gain, and you clearly care for her more than yourself. So yes, I'm bound to assist, blah blah. Don't make this weird."
I actually let out a soft chuckle at that, drawing a curious glance from a commuter across the aisle. Not making it weird, I think, amused. But thanks.
It doesn't reply, but I sense it withdrawing awkwardly. If it had a physical form, I imagine it would wave off my thanks like, "whatever, just doing my job."
At District 3's hub, I guide a groggy Lexi off the train. The free clinic was advertised, but where exactly is it? The billboard suggested maybe a roving location. Perhaps they have a presence near the station to catch more foot traffic.
We exit into the station plaza – a much cleaner, more orderly place than the slum markets. Here there are actual queues for things, people with tidy clothes, and even a couple of city police in bright blue standing around casually (as opposed to storming around like in lower districts). I feel a bit self-conscious; we look obviously out-of-place and bedraggled.
In the corner of the plaza, near a fountain, I spot a large vehicle that looks like a cross between a bus and a van, colored a soft white with green stripes, and the Aurora Enterprises logo on the side. Bingo.
A small line of people has formed – some working-class folks, a few mothers with children, and notably a couple of homeless-looking individuals too. A banner on the side of the vehicle reads "Mobile Clinic – Free Health Check & Basic Medicine."
I gently squeeze Lexi's hand. "There, that must be it." She nods weakly.
We shuffle to join the line. Volunteers in simple white jackets move around, checking on people. The line moves quickly; they seem efficient.
Soon, it's our turn at the intake table, manned by a petite woman with a tablet. "Hi there," she says kindly. Her eyes take in our appearances, lingering on Lexi's drooping stance. "How can we help today?"
"My sister's sick," I say. "Cough, maybe fever. We don't have any money for the big hospitals… someone said this was free?"
"You heard right," the woman smiles. "Basic care is free here. Let's get her looked at." She gestures and another volunteer, a tall man with a gentle expression, comes over.
He crouches to Lexi's level. "Hey sweetheart, not feeling too good?" She musters a tiny head shake. "Let's get you inside, okay?" He offers her a hand, and she takes it, looking to me for assurance. I nod that it's okay and follow as we're led into the van.
Inside, the vehicle is impressively equipped. It's been converted into a mini clinic on wheels – there are two curtained off exam areas, cabinets with medical supplies, and even a small diagnostic console humming softly. I'm instantly on guard seeing all the tech, but the atmosphere is calm and reassuring.
They direct Lexi to sit on a padded bench. The volunteer man (maybe a nurse or medic) introduces himself as Dale. "I'm going to check your vitals, okay Lexi? This is just a scanner, it won't hurt." He passes a handheld device over her forehead and chest. It beeps and displays readings I can't decipher.
He nods to himself. "Low-grade fever, elevated heart rate… likely an upper respiratory infection. Probably viral." He then takes out a stethoscope to listen to her breathing. "Deep breath in… and out…" I watch anxiously, but Dale smiles. "Lungs are clear, that's good. Probably just a common cold starting."
Another voice chimes in from the front of the van, hidden behind a curtain partition. It's female, brisk yet warm. "Any signs of pneumonia, Dale?"
Dale turns. "No Dr. Zhang, just a mild fever and throat inflammation."
The curtain swishes open and a young woman steps into our section. I immediately notice two things: the streak of dyed pink in her dark hair, and the sleek cybernetic prosthetic arm at her left side, exposed since she's rolled up her sleeves. She's dressed in a simple gray shirt and jeans under a white volunteer vest, a stethoscope around her neck. Her presence radiates confidence and empathy all at once.
She must be Aurora Zhang – as in Aurora Enterprises. The CEO's daughter who runs these clinics, if I recall rumors correctly. What's someone like her doing personally at a street clinic? Yet here she is, checking on patients herself.
Aurora gives Lexi a friendly smile. "Hi there. I'm Dr. Aurora Zhang, but you can call me Rory if you want. Let's see about getting you better." Lexi manages a shy grin at the informality.
Aurora – or Rory – quickly scans Dale's notes on the tablet. Then she addresses me, perhaps noting my protective hovering. "Looks like your sister has a little cold, nothing too serious. We'll give her a dose of kiddie cold medicine now and some to take with you. Plenty of fluids, rest, and she should be okay in a few days."
I exhale, relief washing over me. "Thank you, Dr. Zhang."
She waves a hand. "It's what we're here for." As Dale goes to fetch the medicine, her eyes study us a moment. "You two aren't from around this district, are you?"
My posture stiffens slightly. I always worry someone will call CPS or something if they sniff out our situation. "Uh, no ma'am. We're from down by, uh, Old Stack 17." No point lying; our accents and clothes betray us.
She nods knowingly. "You came all the way up here for the clinic. Smart move." Then she smiles, and it's genuine and warm. "You did the right thing, bringing her. A lot of folks wait too long. You're a good brother."
Her words catch me off guard. We rarely get praise from strangers, especially not someone of her status. I feel my face flush. "I… I just want her to be safe."
Aurora's eyes flick to Lexi, who's sipping some syrupy medicine now under Dale's guidance, then back to me. "What's your name?"
"Jet," I reply automatically, then add, "Well, Jonah, but everyone calls me Jet." Realizing she introduced herself by first name, I mirror, "And this is Lexi."
Aurora extends her right hand (the one that's organic) to me and we shake. My hand's rough and calloused; hers is firm, with a few faint scars. Not exactly the soft hand of a spoiled heiress – interesting.
"Good to meet you, Jet." There's something in the way she says it that feels weighty, like she might remember it. "How old are you two? If that's okay to ask."
"I'm eighteen, Lexi's thirteen." No point hiding; she could probably guess.
Aurora nods again thoughtfully, but doesn't pry further about our circumstances. Maybe it's obvious. Instead, she turns to Lexi. "Lexi, honey, how's that medicine taste? Grape flavor okay?"
Lexi licks her lips. "It's okay. A little too sweet," she rasps.
Aurora chuckles. "They always make it too sweet. But it'll help your throat, promise."
Suddenly, Lexi reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out her little notebook. In her scratchy handwriting, she shows a page to Aurora: the word "Aurora" is scrawled there among others, with a child's attempt at definition next to it ("Roman goddess of dawn; also lights in sky").
I freeze, slightly mortified, but Aurora's face lights up. "Is that my name?"
Lexi nods. "It's a pretty name. I collect words… and Aurora's one of my favorites."
Aurora's smile softens, and for a moment I see not a doctor or an heiress, but just a young woman touched by something innocent. "Thank you. My mom named me after the dawn. She believed each day is a new chance for hope."
There's a gentle silence in the van as Lexi scribbles that down – clearly adding something to her notes like "new chance for hope." I rub her shoulder, endeared and also proud.
Aurora clears her throat softly and addresses me again. "We have a small care package for patients – would it be alright if we send you off with some extra things? Some nutrient bars, bottled water, maybe a blanket?"
My pride flares for a second – we're not beggars, I want to say. But practicality smashes it down. Lexi needs whatever can keep her comfortable right now. "That… that would be really kind, thanks."
Aurora signals to another volunteer to assemble that. She then taps a quick note on the tablet. "If Lexi isn't improving in three days or if she gets worse – high fever, trouble breathing – bring her back or to any clinic, okay?"
"Absolutely," I promise.
As we wrap up, she gently ruffles Lexi's hair (earning a tiny giggle), and then offers me a card. "This has our mobile clinic's schedule. We rotate through districts – tomorrow we'll be near District 8's market, the next day down in 5, and so on. If you two need anything, or if you want to help out sometime, come by." Her eyes hold mine a moment. "We're always looking for good hearts and hard workers on the crew."
I take the card, stunned. Did… did she just sort of offer me something? The card indeed lists times and locations, and at the bottom has her name and a contact comm code.
"I… thank you. We'll keep that in mind," I manage. My brain's frazzled from the unexpected kindness.
We say our goodbyes and step out of the van, Lexi clutching a small bag of supplies the volunteers handed over (containing two protein bars, a water bottle, throat lozenges, and a thermal blanket – I half-expected something subpar, but these are quality items, likely from Aurora's funding).
The morning sun has broken through smog a bit, casting a weak ray over the plaza. I feel almost lightheaded from how well that went. Lexi's already looking a bit perkier from the medicine.
As the mobile clinic begins packing up to move to its next site, I take Lexi's hand and we walk slowly back toward the mag-lev. She's the one who speaks first, voice still raspy but carrying awe. "Jonah, she was so nice. I didn't think… I mean, a corp lady being that nice."
"I know," I reply quietly. It overturns a lot of what we experience daily. Maybe not all those with money are heartless. But Aurora Zhang is clearly exceptional.
"Hmph," the System scoffs privately to me. "She's an anomaly. Don't extrapolate this to all wealthy people suddenly being saints. Likely she's a bleeding-heart do-gooder acting against her corporate interest." A pause. "Though I suppose her competence is… noteworthy."
Is that a hint of grudging respect from the System? Wow. I think she's amazing, I admit inwardly. She helped Lexi and didn't look down on us.
The System is silent for a beat, then mutters, "Yes, credit where due. And speaking of credit – tally time."
As we board the train home, a quest completion pops up:
[Quest Complete: Get Medicine for Lexi – +10 XP, +5 Credits]
Interesting, 5 credits. Maybe it gave me back some of what I spent on tickets, or symbolic. Either way, I see my XP is climbing. That quest reward plus the little bit earlier might put me at around 19 XP or so total.
"Did it talk to you?" Lexi asks softly once we're seated, noticing my momentary distant look.
"Yeah," I whisper. No need to hide it now from her. "It's just confirming we completed our mission of getting you medicine. Gave a little reward too."
Lexi smiles and leans against me. "Good. Tell it I said thank you, if it likes that."
I laugh under my breath. She says thanks, System, I relay playfully.
The System makes a faux gagging sound. "Ugh, sentiment. This one's even more saccharine than you." But I detect no real malice. It's almost… fond exasperation? Hard to tell with it.
The ride back is smoother since we have tickets. Lexi dozes on me again, the medicine likely making her sleepy. I'm fine with that – rest is what she needs.
By the time we reach our neighborhood, it's midday and her fever's gone down a bit. Still, I decide today we will take it easy. We have those protein bars now and some bread left, so food is covered.
We head to a relatively safe spot I know – the public library. It's one of the few quiet places where they won't usually kick out a couple of street kids as long as we behave. Plus it's warm and dry inside.
Lexi lights up when I suggest it. She loves the library; that's where she's gotten some of her beloved words. It's a bit of a walk, but she insists she's up for it. I keep a slow pace.
The library is an old concrete building squeezed between taller developments. It's mostly digital archives now, with old-school books considered vintage. People don't come often, making it a perfect hideout.
We slip in and nod politely to the bored librarian droid at the entrance. In a corner, Lexi curls up with a physical book of folk tales while I flip through job postings on my device quietly.
The System stays mostly quiet, perhaps content we are in low-activity mode. I catch myself almost missing its snark – how messed up is that? I guess I've grown used to the banter, like having an invisible friend/enemy. But I'm glad it's letting Lexi rest without fuss.
After an hour or two, Lexi falls asleep on a cozy chair, book open on her lap. I drape the new thermal blanket over her. She looks better already, some color back in her cheeks.
I step outside to stretch my legs and to let her sleep. Outside, the weather's cleared into one of those rare pale blue skies, the smog temporarily parted by the earlier rain. Sunshine in the slums – what a concept. I lean against the library wall, soaking in a bit of warmth.
"Status update available," the System speaks up suddenly. "Would you like to review your progress, Host?"
I haven't formally checked since yesterday. "Sure," I murmur, trusting no one's near enough to hear.
The translucent screen appears:
Jonah "Jet" Walker – Level 1
XP: 19/100
Credits: 11 (digital wallet) + 25 (on hand)
Strength: 5
Agility: 6
Endurance: 5
Intellect: 5
Perception: 5
Charisma: 5
So between the courier quest, scooter fix, Lexi quest, etc., I'm at 19 XP. Not bad for a start. Credits – I have 11 in the mysterious e-wallet (10 from first quest +5 from Lexi quest minus maybe something? Actually it gave 5 not 1, so maybe it's 15; wait it shows 11, maybe I spent 4 on tickets which came out of e-wallet because I used thumb?), and 25 physical from Mr. Chen's job (20 he gave, plus 5 tip as quest recognized).
So total 36. Enough to sustain us a while if careful, but far from a stable home fund. Still, seeing those numbers instead of zero is encouraging.
No stat changes since the +1 Agility, which is fine. But I wonder: do I get to allocate points when I level? The story bible implied possibly a stat point or two on level up.
I ask the System: Leveling up gives me stat points to spend, or is it automatic?
"Upon leveling, you will receive a set increment to overall ability and yes, usually a point or two to allocate as desired," it answers. "Don't worry, I'll guide you… lest you put everything into Charisma or some nonsense."
I chuckle. What's wrong with Charisma?
"Money talks louder."
I shake my head. Classic System. But money doesn't soothe a throat or share a laugh. It has its uses, sure, but… well, I won't win that debate with it now.
As I re-enter the library, I notice a familiar figure by the front desk – it's that young boy we saw at the Aid Station line yesterday, the one who peeked at us. He's alone here, browsing a rack of comics. Skinny, maybe 9 or 10 years old.
Suddenly, I hear raised voices from outside. Peering through the door, I see a couple of rough teens – maybe the same age as the one who tried to mug the girl? – loitering at the corner. They're laughing and tossing something back and forth… it looks like a small backpack. And I see the boy's face through the window – distraught. That must be his bag they snatched.
My jaw sets. Seriously, what's with bullies today? I glance at Lexi, still sound asleep. She'll be fine here for a minute.
Quietly, I step out. The two teens are taunting the little boy, who stands a few meters away on the sidewalk, eyes pleading. One teen is a stocky girl with a buzz cut, the other a tall boy with tattoos on his arm – likely gang initiates messing with easy prey.
"Come on, jump for it!" the girl sneers, holding the bag up high. The boy sniffles, trying not to cry.
I walk up behind them. "Hey, punks. Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"
They spin around. The girl clutches the bag to her chest, glaring. "Mind your business, old man," she spits. Old man? I'm eighteen! But I suppose compared to them I'm an adult. The tall boy squares up, noticing I'm a bit taller than him but lean.
"That your brother's bag?" I ask them calmly, gesturing at it.
"What if it is?" the boy sneers. "You his hero or something?"
I sigh. Always the hard way. "Listen, just give it back and go. No drama needed."
The girl smirks. "Or what?"
At that moment, the library door opens and – oh no – Lexi steps out, blanket around her shoulders. She must have woken and seen this. She stands in the doorway, and I see recognition flash in the bully girl's eyes.
"Hey, I know that runt," the girl says, pointing at Lexi. "She sings for coins at the station sometimes. You two some kinda street performers?"
The tall boy chuckles. "Maybe we should charge an entertainment tax."
Lexi glares despite her pallor. "Leave him alone, you meanie!"
I quickly move so I'm between the bullies and Lexi. The situation is precarious now. I don't want Lexi exposed to a fight, especially sick.
The tall boy lunges forward suddenly, trying to grab me by the collar. I twist away and use his momentum to shove him past me. He stumbles into the wall. The girl drops the bag and swings a fist at my head. I duck – she clips my ear, but I manage to grab her arm and yank the bag free.
I push the girl back and pick up the bag, tossing it to its rightful owner. "Run!" I tell the boy. He doesn't hesitate, clutching it and bolting down the street.
The bullies, seeing their prey escaped, turn their ire fully on me. The tall boy rushes with a furious yell. I plant my feet and remember some stance a self-defense volunteer once taught at a shelter – I manage to pivot and elbow him in the gut. He wheezes, stumbling.
The girl jumps on my back with surprising ferocity, clawing at my face. I grunt as her nails scrape my cheek. Lexi screams, "Jonah!"
I reach up and manage to pry the girl's arm enough to flip her off my back. She lands on her butt, cursing.
At this point, a couple of passerby adults are noticing. One shouts, "Oi, break it up!" The bullies see the attention and decide it's not worth it. The boy, still catching his breath, yells "Screw you!" and they both run off, the girl spitting in my direction as a goodbye gift.
I stand there panting for a moment, adrenaline coursing. That was messy but… we did it. My cheek stings; her nails drew a bit of blood. Could've been worse.
Lexi is by my side in an instant, worry etched on her face. "You're bleeding!"
I wipe the small trickle with my sleeve. "Just a scratch." I look her over. "Are you okay? I told you to rest inside."
She looks down guiltily. "I'm sorry… I woke up and you were gone and I got scared."
I can't be mad at that. I gently hug her. "It's okay. Just… next time stay back. I had it under control."
We both know that's partly true, partly bravado. I had it mostly under control.
A movement draws my eye – the little boy I helped is peeking from around the corner, holding his bag. He gives me a shy wave and a bright grin, then scampers off for good.
I catch myself smiling as well. And sure enough:
[Quest Complete: Defended the Weak – +8 XP, +5 Credits]
My XP now reads 27/100. Climbing nicely. The System is quick with a quip: "You seem to attract trouble. Might I suggest investing in some armor? Or at least thicker hoodies."
I mentally check in: You mean you can't magically grant me bulletproof skin yet?
"Not yet. Try leveling up a few dozen times," it retorts. "In the meantime, maybe avoid taking on gangs while escorting a sick child." There's a hint of reproach.
It wasn't exactly planned, I think defensively. But I can't just watch that and do nothing.
No reply, just a sense of exasperation simmering.
Lexi tugs my sleeve. "You really need to stop finding fights," she scolds softly, mirroring the System's sentiment uncannily. "Even if it's the right thing… one day you'll get hurt bad."
I sigh, leading her back inside the library to gather our things (time to head back to camp anyway). "I'll be careful. I promise."
She just shakes her head, then leans into me. "You can't help it. You're my hero," she says quietly.
My heart melts. "I'm just your brother, Lex."
She smiles. "Same thing."
We decide to take the rest of the day truly easy. Back at our overpass camp by evening, we share a protein bar (well, I let Lexi have 75% of it). Her fever is gone, just a mild cough remains. I'm confident she'll be fine by tomorrow or the next day.
As night falls, Lexi falls asleep early, snuggled in both our blanket and the new thermal one – she's never been so toasty, and she drifts off peacefully.
I stay up a bit, reflecting. Only two days with this System and life already feels… different. Still full of struggles, but now I have an edge, and a sense of incremental progress.
I think about Aurora's card, tucked safely in my bag. Maybe tomorrow if Lexi's well, we'll swing by their next location and I could even lend a hand there. Helping at a clinic probably counts for good deed points, and maybe Aurora could set me up with more steady odd jobs or something. Just a thought.
I'm learning that beyond just earning, this System is encouraging me to be more, well, me – the part of me that wants to help. And though it grumbles, it does reward it. That's a powerful loop. One I intend to exploit.
As I lie down beside my sister, the System speaks softly, almost like it's musing to itself, "Your efficiency today was suboptimal. However… net outcome satisfactory."
Is that its way of saying "good job"? I smile in the dark. Good night to you too, oh great and grumpy System.
I close my eyes. The last thing I hear is a faint hmph in my mind, and I sleep, wondering what new quests tomorrow will bring.
Chapter 4
Sunrise finds us atop a squat rooftop, chasing the last signal bar on my handheld. The day dawned with a rare stroke of luck: a local street vendor, Ms. Felicia, needed help unloading crates of produce at the crack of dawn and paid me with a generous portion of soy porridge and grilled veggies. Lexi and I ate our fill for breakfast – a warm, savory meal that lifted our spirits and gave her strength.
Now Lexi insists she's feeling much better, and her rosy cheeks and playful energy seem to back it up. Still, I want to keep her out of anything too strenuous today. So I promised her a more relaxed morning: checking out what's happening in the city via my handheld (news, job posts, anything interesting) while enjoying the rare elevated view from the roof I found. It's a flat top of a two-story building adjacent to the market, accessible via a fire escape I maybe kicked open. Up here, one can see the warren of alleys and the skyline of Mega-City-Theta rising beyond – glinting spires and hazy outlines of megatowers above the perpetual smog line.
Lexi sits cross-legged on the ledge next to me, humming one of Mom's lullabies under her breath as I scroll through the cracked screen. She's writing something in her notebook – likely noting down words she overhears from below, where the market's coming alive with multi-lingual chatter.
The System is idle so far, probably calculating where next to poke me. I decide to poke it first. Status? I think, curious if anything changed overnight.
It obliges:
XP: 27/100, still level 1. No new changes. That defense quest gave a nice chunk but I've got a ways to level 2.
Credits: 16 digital now (it added the 5 from defending that kid to the e-wallet) and 25 physical still in pocket. 41 total. It's growing slowly.
As I contemplate our next steps, I see a new gig listing on the board: "Warehouse Night Shift Labor – one week contract, corpsec clearance required." No thanks, we can't commit to something like that, nor would they take a scrawny homeless teen with no ID.
Another entry: "Street Cleanup Crew Volunteers – Sponsored by Aurora Enterprises, 5 XP bonus via city civic app, meals provided." XP bonus? That's new – the city gamifies volunteering? Well, that's separate from my System XP, but interesting cross of worlds.
Lexi peers at the screen. "What's that about Aurora?"
I explain it to her and she grins. "That's Rory's company. See, she even does city cleanups." Clearly, Lexi has a new hero.
I tuck the device away. "We could go help, but I don't want you over-exerting. Maybe in a couple days when you're 100%."
Lexi pouts a little – she's bored of resting – but nods.
I stretch and look out over the alley below. People are milling, vendors hawking breakfast buns and congee. The smell wafts up, mixing with the usual sewer steam. I spot a trio of kids kicking a battered soccer ball around debris, laughing. A small scene of normalcy amidst the chaos.
That's when I spot him – the older teen from two days ago who tried to mug that little girl. He's across the street, shuffling aimlessly, eyes hollow, as if looking for another mark or maybe just coming down from a bad high. He has a fresh bruise on his cheek and walks with a limp. Perhaps someone else gave him what-for after our encounter.
I point him out quietly to Lexi. "That's the guy who tried to rob that kid I helped."
She scowls down at him. "Jerk." Then, unexpectedly, "He looks… sad."
I examine him again. She's right – under the edgy anger, he looks utterly miserable. How old could he be? Maybe 19 or 20, but malnourished and filthy so he looks older and younger at once. On a whim, I open my bag and take out one of the protein bars from Aurora's care package.
Lexi sees what I'm thinking immediately. "Are you going to give him that? After what he did?"
I pause. My gut says yes – if he's that desperate, maybe a bit of kindness could change his day, even his path. Or he could throw it back in my face. But I recall Aurora's motto about each day being a new chance.
"Be right back," I say, tucking the bar in my hoodie pocket and swinging off the roof via the fire escape.
The System, silent until now, throws in its two cents: "What is this, redemption outreach? By all means, feed the addict who tried to stab you. Very wise." Its sarcasm is scalding.
I'm not expecting anything. But maybe he needs it. I retort.
"Charity toward an enemy. You continue to baffle." But notably, it doesn't forbid me. It just sounds… perplexed.
On ground level, I quietly approach the teen. He notices me, eyes narrowing, recognition flickering. He tenses as if expecting a fight.
I hold my hands up in peace. "Not here to bust you up. Here." I slowly pull out the protein bar and extend it. It's still sealed.
He blinks, distrustful. "What's this?"
"Food," I say simply. "You look hungry. It's yours if you want it."
He eyes me, then the bar, then me again. "Why?" he mutters, anger and confusion warring in his voice. "After I—" He cuts off, can't even say it.
I shrug. "Must suck to be starving. Believe me, I know. Just take it."
For a moment, I think he might actually throw a punch – his body language is chaotic, unsteady. But then he almost crumples. He snatches the bar from my hand, but the fight has drained out of him. "I don't need your pity," he says, voice cracking. He means it to sting, but it comes out weak.
"Call it whatever you want, man. Just take care." I step back to leave.
He rips open the wrapper and devours the bar in two bites, like a feral cat afraid I'll grab it back. My heart squeezes at the sight – despite his misdeeds, he's just another victim of this city, chewing like it's the first food he's had in days.
While chewing, he mumbles something I barely catch: "…thanks." It's low and ashamed.
I pretend not to hear to preserve his pride. With a nod, I turn and head back to the fire escape. Lexi's watching from above, her expression one of wonder.
As I climb up, sure enough:
[Good Deed Recognized: Showed mercy to an enemy. +5 XP, +5 Credits]
The System commentary follows, "Well, color me surprised. The algorithm actually flagged that as worthy. You and your bleeding heart." It tries to sound annoyed, but I sense a grudging acceptance: this is who I am, and the System has to live with it.
"Proud of you," Lexi whispers as I rejoin her on the roof. She squeezes my arm.
I ruffle her hair. "He might still be a jerk tomorrow, but at least he isn't as hungry today."
She nods sagely, then coughs lightly – a reminder to me to wrap things up and get her out of the morning chill.
By now, my XP sits at 32/100. One-third of the way to level 2. I'm itching to hit that milestone just to see what leveling up feels like, but I know – steady and gradual.
We descend from the roof and decide to meander toward District 8's market, where the Aurora cleanup event is supposedly happening midday. Lexi insists she's up for it, and I reason we can just observe or lightly help while also maybe scoring another free meal there.
The journey is pleasant – Lexi is in good spirits, pointing out little things like a new mural someone painted overnight (a colorful phoenix on a drab wall) and humming tunes.
As we walk, the System unexpectedly speaks up in a non-sequitur: "Your current funds are sufficient to purchase a used holophone or a month's rent in a low-tier capsule motel."
I nearly stop in surprise. It's giving suggestions? I doubt a motel would rent to me without ID and more deposit, I think back. And a holophone? Why?
"Communication. Networking. If you plan to better your situation, having a functional comm device is crucial. That ancient handheld is laughably out-of-date."
It's not wrong. My handheld is basically a mini tablet with limited capabilities. A holophone would give me reliable net connection, calls, maybe even AR overlay which could synergize with the System?
You realize we have nowhere to set up a phone plan, I reply. No address, etc. Prepaid phones exist but pricey.
"There are ways. Black market SIMs, identity spoofs. I could assist with that, given funds." The System almost sounds eager, like it wants a better interface to the world. "Consider it a priority purchase when feasible."
Huh. Interesting. It wanting more connectivity might hint at its capabilities if given net access. I'll keep that in mind.
District 8's main avenue comes into view, and sure enough, there's a crew of volunteers in neon vests picking up trash and scrubbing graffiti. They have an open tent with the Aurora Enterprises logo where they're handing out gloves, trash bags, and refreshments to helpers. It's moderately crowded – about two dozen people, a mix of ages.
We hang back at first, just watching. Lexi tugs my sleeve. "Can we help a little? I feel okay, really. And… and Rory might be here."
She scans the crowd hopefully. I do too, but I don't spot Aurora. Likely she can't attend every single event personally. Still, the cause is good.
I smile. "Alright. But take it easy. We'll fill like one bag and then rest."
She nods eagerly.
We approach the tent to sign up. A chipper young man gives us gloves and bags. "Thank you for volunteering! Food and water over there if you need, courtesy of Aurora Ent. Did you register on the civic app for XP points?"
"Uh, not exactly," I say. No phone to do so, but the System's giving me my own XP anyway, ha.
"No worries, your efforts still count! Have fun!" He clearly is in cheerleader mode.
So we join the others along a littered alleyway and start picking up bottles, wrappers, broken glass. Lexi hums as she works, and I make sure she avoids any sharp stuff.
It feels good, honestly, doing something like this with her. Neighbors peek out windows and some give thumbs up or thanks. Community positivity is a rare currency.
About an hour in, our bag is nearly full and Lexi's starting to puff a bit. I declare that's enough for today. We deposit the trash bag at the collection point, and a volunteer scribbles our names (well, whatever names we gave, I just said Jet and Lexi Walker) in some ledger for records.
"Take a break, kids," an older lady volunteer urges, handing Lexi a bottle of lemon water. We sit by the curb, sipping and resting. It's warm today, sweat sticking my shirt to me, but it's a good honest sweat.
The System is uncharacteristically silent. Perhaps nothing to complain about here, since cleaning is efficient and has corp backing. Or maybe it's analyzing how to credit me.
As if on cue:
[Community Service Completed – +3 XP]
Only 3? Well, it wasn't exactly a dire heroic act, just civil duty. Fair enough.
Lexi leans her head on my shoulder. "I'm glad we did this," she says softly, watching sunbeams reflect off the now cleaner street.
"Me too," I reply, and I mean it.
At that moment, a clapping sound draws our attention. To my delight (and Lexi's glee by the way she bolts upright), Aurora is here after all. She's standing by the tent, addressing the volunteers as the event wraps up. She must have arrived while we were down the alley.
"…thank you all for your hard work!" Aurora is saying, her voice carrying clearly. She's dressed in casual coveralls marked with paint and dirt – looks like she was personally scrubbing graffiti somewhere. Even smudged with grime, she has an aura of approachable leadership. "District 8 looks brighter because of you. And remember, our mobile clinic is coming here next week if you know anyone in need…"
She spots me and Lexi sitting together, and her face breaks into a smile of recognition. She waves, and we wave back. Aurora wraps up her speech and starts coming our way, but she's intercepted by a couple of local community folk wanting to shake her hand, so she politely engages with them first.
Lexi is practically vibrating. "She saw us! She's coming!"
"Calm, Lex, calm," I tease, though I'm a bit excited too.
Eventually, Aurora makes her way over. "Jet, Lexi! I didn't expect to see you here so soon." There's genuine pleasure in her voice.
"We wanted to help a little," I explain, standing up (a bit self-conscious of my sweaty, shabby appearance). "And Lexi's feeling better today."
Aurora crouches slightly to be eye level with Lexi and inspects her like a concerned aunt. "Color's back in your cheeks, I see. No more fever, right?"
Lexi nods. "I'm okay. Thank you for the medicine and everything."
Aurora pats her shoulder gently (her cybernetic hand, I notice – it moves with incredible dexterity, almost lifelike except the subtle servomotor sound). "I'm so happy to hear that." She then eyes our gloves and the empty lemon water. "Did you two work on the cleanup? That's wonderful. Make sure you get something to eat."
"Oh, we did earlier," I mention the provided snacks and she nods approvingly.
A sly smile forms on Aurora's face. "You know… If you're interested in more than a little help, Jet, we could use an extra hand regularly. I have a few young volunteers around your age, they get a small stipend for consistent help."
I blink. Is she offering me a job? Even a small stipend is something. And volunteering with her crew could be amazing experience (and probably a fountain of System quests and XP if I'm helping people more).
"I—I'd love to," I stammer, trying not to sound too eager. "I just… is it okay that… uh, I'm not exactly…" I gesture at my ragged clothes and by extension, our homeless status.
Aurora's expression softens with empathy. "It's okay. We're pretty flexible. It could be as simple as you meet us where we set up, lend a hand, and in return we ensure you and Lexi are taken care of. No strings other than a bit of honest work."
Lexi squeezes my hand, silently urging me to accept. Like I'd need convincing.
"That sounds… amazing," I finally say, voice a little choked with gratitude. "Really. I—I can do a lot. I can lift and carry, I know basic first aid, I can run errands—"
Aurora laughs kindly, stopping my rambling. "I know you can. I've got a good feeling about you." She straightens and hands me another business card – this one different from the one I already have. "This is for my assistant, Reina. We coordinate volunteers through her. Text her when you can, or just be at the next event and we'll sort it out. Okay?"
I take the card with both hands, like it's precious. It kind of is. "Okay. Thank you, Rory." I try out the nickname she offered. It feels friendly.
Aurora beams and bumps my arm lightly. "Thank you, Jet. People like you remind me why I do this." There's an earnestness in her eyes that flusters me a bit.
Meanwhile, Lexi is grinning ear to ear, watching this exchange like it's her favorite drama come to life. She clearly senses something; I shoot her a look to not blurt anything embarrassing.
A volunteer calls for Aurora's attention with some issue, and she sighs apologetically. "Duty calls. I'll see you two soon, alright?" She gives a little wave and strides off to handle it.
As soon as she's out of earshot, Lexi practically pounces on me in excitement. "Jonah, you got a job! A real one! With Aurora!"
I can't stop the broad smile on my face. "It's… it's more like regular volunteering with benefits, but yeah. It's a start."
"She totally likes you," Lexi adds impishly, eyes sparkling.
I flush. "Shush. She's just nice to everyone."
But my flush betrays that I did feel something… a connection or at least an admiration flowing both ways. I recall the story bible notes about Aurora maybe seeing something in Jonah. Guess they planned that dynamic.
I decide to focus on the pragmatic. "We should celebrate," I say, changing subject. "Maybe get something special for dinner tonight since we have some coin."
Lexi hops. "Can we get those teriyaki noodles at the night market?"
"Sounds like a plan, little sis."
As we head out, I mentally check in with the System. It's been silent. Possibly calculating risk/reward of me entangling with Aurora's stuff. Or maybe pleased at the prospect of steady income.
After a moment, it pipes up dryly, "Congratulations on acquiring an unpaid internship with fringe benefits. Try to leverage it for networking and future gain."
I laugh internally. Of course you see it that way. Don't worry, we'll profit one way or another.
"If her program provides regular meals, that's already ROI positive," it concedes.
I get the feeling the System is also relieved – me working with Aurora's outfit could mean more stable conditions, which aligns with survival.
The afternoon fades to evening. Lexi and I indeed splurge on teriyaki noodles from a street cart – the savory-sweet flavor exploding on our tongues. We eat sitting on a curb, watching neon signs flicker on one by one.
Lexi sighs happily after finishing, leaning against me. "This almost feels like normal life."
I wrap an arm around her shoulders. "We're getting there. Bit by bit."
I glance at my status. XP now at 35 after presumably some little reward from the volunteering (the 3 XP). Slowly but surely.
We wander back toward our sleeping spot under the overpass, the city settling into its neon-lit nightlife around us. For once, we're not scrambling for a meal or a safe corner – we feel okay.
As we round a corner, I spot someone unexpected: the little girl I saved on Day 1 – the one with the apples. She's sitting with an older woman on a blanket, selling small flower bracelets made of recycled plastic. She looks clean and fed, and she recognizes me at once, her face lighting up.
She tugs the woman (her grandmother, I later learn) and points. They both smile and wave at me. The granny mouths "thank you" – word must have gotten around the market about what I did.
My heart swells. Lexi squeezes my hand knowingly. I wave back, and as we continue on, that feeling of meaning, of purpose, surges within me.
It's a good day to be alive, I think.
Ding! comes the mental chime.
[Daily Kindness Achievements: 3 acts – Bonus +5 XP]
Oh? That's new. A small cumulative bonus for multiple deeds in a day. The System is full of surprises.
"Positive reinforcement loop: engaged," it remarks. "Keep up the productivity, Host."
I grin into the twilight. Today was full of small but meaningful victories. And according to my interface, I've ticked up to 40 XP total now, almost halfway to level 2.
Tonight, as we bed down under the overpass, Lexi drifts to sleep with a contented sigh, Mr. Whiskers plush tucked under her arm. I wrap the blanket securely and stare up at the underbelly of the mag-lev track overhead.
In my mind, I speak to the System quietly so as not to wake Lexi. Thank you for sticking with me so far.
It's not something I expected to say, but I feel it. This partnership is weird, but it's helping me bring out the best in myself.
The System is quiet for a long moment, then replies in a softened tone (for it, anyway), "Don't misunderstand. I'm here because I'm… obligated. But…" There's a crackle, almost like it's choosing words carefully. "Your progress is… acceptable. Keep it up, Jet. We have a long way to go."
I smile in the dark. Yeah, we do. Goodnight, System.
No reply, but I sense a presence, companionable if not exactly warm, hovering in the back of my mind as I fall asleep.
Tomorrow's another day in Mega-City-Theta. But for the first time in a long time, I feel like our dream of a stable home and a better life isn't just a far-off fantasy. It's within reach, inch by inch – and I'm going to grasp it.
Level 2, here I come.