Wearing an N95 mask, dark sunglasses, and a Seagulls ballcap, Jack walked up to the counter and handed the scan card with his chosen lottery numbers to the young, attractive cashier. She was the same cashier that had complimented him on his disguise the last time he bought a lottery ticket.
"Ooh, it's tall, dark, and mysterious, back for round two," she asked playfully.
He nodded, but kept silent.
As the machine was printing his ticket, she grabbed a scrap of paper and scribbled something on it. Then, when the machine finished, she put the scrap of paper together with the ticket and handed them to him.
As he turned to leave, she waved and said, "Good luck!"
As he got into his car, he looked at the scrap or paper. He didn't need to look at it to know that it was her name, phone number, and e-mail address, but he had looked at it in the simulation and he was determined to repeat everything as close as he could to what he did in the simulation.
While his parallel self was going through the simulation, his physical self was watching the clock and taking notes. And now, while his physical self was driving back home, his parallel self was watching the clock and reading the notes so he could hit every light at the same time, make every turn at the same time, adjust his speed so that he drove next to the same cars on the highway, and arrive home at the same time. Once inside, he did his best to repeat the same motions as well, and once he sat on the couch, T.V. on, waiting for the drawing to start, he sat still and did nothing.
After the longest twenty-three minutes of his life, the drawing started. Both in the simulation, and now he didn't move, didn't speak. And Madison, seated next to him, did the same, nothing. They couldn't see any way their actions in Stetle could possibly affect the drawing happening on the other side of the country, but they were not taking any chances.
"Sixty-two," called the official after the first ball dropped.
It was the same as in the simulation.
"Twelve," said the official.
Again, the same.
"Seventeen."
So good so far. During their last attempt, the first four numbers had matched, so this wasn't unexpected.
"Thirty-two."
Four matches. This was as far as they got last time. He was still calm.
"Three."
As soon as he heard the number, a jolt went through him. That was five matching numbers. Even if the Redball didn't match, they had a lottery ticket worth one million credits!
As the official walked over to the Redball machine, he realized he wasn't as tense as he had thought he would be at this point. A million credits didn't go as far as it used to, but it was still a lot of money. So, even if they didn't win the grand prize, he could still consider this a success. One million, even after taxes, was more than enough to pay for college, and much more.
The official started the Redball machine and loaded the balls. Then, after giving a short spiel to build tension, pulled the lever and a red ball dropped out of the machine into the tube. As the camera view changed to show the ball, the official read the number.
"Fifty-nine."
Madison clutched his arm and squealed while bouncing up and down. They had done it. They had successfully predicted the winning lottery number. He looked at the little piece of paper sitting on the coffee table in front of him. This little slip of paper was worth one point five billion credits over twenty years. Or, since he planned to take the lump sum payment, six hundred and fifty million credits. He felt anxiety bloom within him as he thought about how fragile the lottery ticket was to be carrying so much financial weight. He needed to put it somewhere safe, like a safe deposit box.
What he was going to do with all that money? He sort of knew how to collect it, though he would need to talk to a lawyer first to make sure his idea would work. But he had read horror stories about what happened to people after they won the lottery. Suddenly, they would find they had way more "friends" and "family" than they ever knew about. Their phone would blow up with calls from salespeople, scammers, and charities, real and fake, all wanting money. And to him, worst of all, from that point forward, they could never trust the intentions of anyone they met.
He could probably deal with the "long lost" relatives, and the annoying people begging for money. Just hire security. But the thing he feared the most was being unable to make normal friends. If people knew he won the lottery, then how could he tell if they were interested in him, or just after his money? The only people that wouldn't be after his money were people with even more money, and he had no idea how to connect with or relate to those kinds of people. At least not yet.
He did want to live a baller life. The idea of driving around in a supercar, like the Bugatti Chiron, or lounging on a yacht in the Mediterranean was appealing. But what he wanted more was genuine friends. People that liked him for who he was, and not what he had.
So, he planned to try to hide his wealth, or most of it, at least until after he graduated college. Sure, he might give in to temptation and splurge on some of the finer things in life. He definitely was buying a new car. And a new laptop. And a new phone. And maybe some new clothes. He could explain all that as being from the settlement. But he'd need to hold off on the baller life until later.
And, worst-case scenario, he had Madison. She was his forever and while their friendship was strained at the moment; he felt reasonably certain that she would atone, like he asked. And maybe he would find other people who would want to be soul bound to him. Though, if Madison was any indication, it was possible that only unusual people would want that.
He checked the time on his phone. It was well past bank hours. He'd have to wait until tomorrow to secure his lottery ticket. The idea of it just sitting there out in the open made him nervous, so he found an empty mint tin and put the ticket inside. The mint tin would at least protect the ticket from water damage.