SORRY, BILLY

  ARC 1

  Man is something to be overcome. What have you done to overcome him?

  – Friedrich Nietzsche (Thus Spoke Zarathustra)

  The middle ages showed us the results of thinking without experimentation, our present century shows us what experimentation without thinking leads to.

  – Arthur Schopenhauer

  “Are you still there?”

  “Still here, yes.”

  “Did you write the last chapter the way I told you?”

  “You’ve told me plenty of times not to change anything. No artistic freedom. Shame.”

  “It’s not about freedom. Not about money. It’s only about making sure everyone reads it.”

  “Then why shouldn’t I send it to a publisher? They have the reach, the money for advertising…”

  “You’re supposed to put it online. Make it accessible to everyone. Back in the early 2000s, there was this book, think it was called John Dies at the End, yeah. The author did exactly that. Put it online for free. Became a massive success. You’ll do the same.”

  “Why didn’t you just write the book yourself?”

  “I am the story. You’re the one writing it.”

  “Right. Got it. Already forgot. And why Kaleith? Why this stupid pen name? Why not use my real name?”

  “Publish it under the name I told you. No other.”

  “Okey-dokey.”

  “Good.”

  “Just one last question.”

  “Yes?”

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  No response.

  He leaned back, crossed his arms and stared at the monitor, the only source of light in the room, his brows furrowed. After a while—maybe two, maybe three minutes later—he licked his lips and slowly shook his head, still focused on the screen. There wasn’t going to be an answer, he thought. Definitely not. He never answered that question. He had written an entire damn web novel for him, and yet, he never found out who he was.

  With a single click, he closed the website, the one he’d stumbled across four or five months ago when a spam mail had landed in his inbox:

  Feeling lonely? Need someone to talk to? Want to learn the secrets of the universe, or maybe just some dirty talk?

  Start chatting now with our intelligent chatbot! He’ll sweeten your lonely hours.

  100% legal.

  Visit us at stewpidbot.com

  That thing was anything but a chatbot, he thought. Primitive, stupid chatbots (the kind that already existed in the early 2000s) might be legal. But AIs are strictly forbidden worldwide. Breaking this law carries the death penalty. So, yes, it was a person, someone who refused to admit he was human. A weirdo, a troll, a nutcase. But damn imaginative, he had to give him that. But what did he want from him? Why had he picked him, of all people—the most boring, talentless person on the planet?

  Really. No talent. No future. It’s not like he had any kind of superpowers.

  But he wished he did.

  He clicked to open the file of the web novel, scrolling through the pages one last time, checking if the spellcheck had missed anything. He sucked at spelling. Barely knew the basics from a long-ago school life he barely remembered. Actually, not at all.

  “Are you finally coming to bed, darling?”

  He was her darling. About on the same level as a stuffed animal.

  He wiped the bottom edge of the monitor with the back of his hand, and the screen went dark.

  The room plunged into darkness. Outside, rain dripped down the window, and the impossible cube of Thandros Corp. burned like a giant hologram in the gloomy December sky.

  “Darling? I want to cuddle now. Right now, darling.”

  “And I want to fuck,” he whispered. The chatbot, he thought. That damn chatbot. Dirty talk.

  That promise had intrigued him more than learning the secrets of the universe. Dirty talk with a machine. Probably still better than no sexual experience at all.

  “Darling, tomorrow’s my theatre performance. On Broadway. I don’t want to be tired on stage. Darling? I want to sleep now. Are you still writing that stupid novel? Give it up already, you’re not an author, no superhero, you’re just my—”

  “I’m coming,” he snapped, sounding more irritated than he should. But for a while, he stayed put, leaning forward in his chair, hands resting on his knees, sighing heavily. As if he had to force himself to get up. But really, he had to force himself to go to bed. That whole thing with the web novel, posting it online, chapter by chapter on Royal Road and all—that could wait until tomorrow.

  “Darling?”

  He loved someone else.

  That was his secret.

  But he had nothing to impress her with. Even less than money, he had no looks. He was as bald as an egg, skinny, and looked deathly ill. He had a rare…

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “Darling!!!”

  Goddammit, he thought.

  “You’re my hot water bottle. I need you to fall asleep.”

  He pushed the chair back and stood up.

  If this story really becomes a success, he thought, then I’m out of here. So damn out of here.

  New York Rebels (Daily Bulletin), 12/19/2035

  Our World on the Brink

  Christmas and New Year are just around the corner, the days of wishes and resolutions. But will we make the right ones this time, make the right promises? One thing should be clear: Even though we need them now more than ever, there are no superheroes in this world. No one standing against evil. But each of us has the power to change the world in small ways. And if we stand together, we could achieve great things.

  At least world politics has shifted focus, thanks to the American tech giant Thandros Corporation, now prioritizing the restructuring of global economies. Additionally, policies aimed at controlling birth rates have come to the forefront, a vital first step toward securing life itself. But the problems don’t end here: In many countries, resources have become scarce and the prices of gas and oil are skyrocketing due to ongoing international conflicts. Saudi Arabia has entirely halted exports due to tensions with India. Sharp disputes between our beloved USA and the Middle East, especially Iran, have continued since the turn of the millennium. Unity? Not in sight.

  As climate change worsens, we’re witnessing a global arms race for advanced technologies to harness and utilize R-energy. China’s growing economic power is fueling the spread of communism, leading to fears that the Iron Curtain might be drawn once again.

  Do we ever learn from our mistakes?

  The world population has reached ten billion. Population density has spiked, especially in developing nations, leading to even greater famine. Industrialized countries are forced to accept millions of climate refugees each year to prevent humanitarian crises. And possibly war. Xenophobic groups have risen sharply in recent years, with anti-immigrant and anti-Black parties gaining strength. Crime rates are climbing. Terrorist attacks have become the norm. There are only a handful of boroughs in New York left untouched by terror. In Manhattan, only Central Park and its surroundings have been spared, and that's only because of the towering barricades (humorously dubbed “Paradise Walls” by some of us) surrounding the area where Thandros Corporation has its headquarters.

  But it’s not just in the global city of New York that humanity’s future looks bleak. We’ve brought our home planet (the pale blue dot, as the legendary Carl Sagan once called it) close to destruction. Can we now heal it together, hand in hand? Or will the great kindergarten known as politics continue to turn a blind eye, right up until the bitter end?

  One thing is certain: we’ll find out.

  Sooner than we’d like…

  Carry Web, News Journalist

  Brooklyn Navy Yard, NYC

  December 20, 2035, 5:01 PM

  Oracles, visions, fortune tellers. Billy Jones didn’t believe in that kind of hocus-pocus; he only trusted logical conclusions: The unusually nice December weather, the early end to his workday and the upcoming theater night at the Elysian on Broadway, where his wife Vivian was starring in the lead role, all promised an excellent evening… if he ignored the stomach ache that had been bothering him all day, which he chalked up to nerves. After all, he was about to do something very stupid, something that would surely ruin the perfect night ahead.

  But why fight a decision already made?

  He stopped, turned around and entered the solar panel factory for the first time without thinking about his next paycheck. Instead, he was about to risk his entire savings—everything he had earned over the years as a factory worker. And husband.

  How could a man be so foolish?

  The company’s mighty logo, the impossible cube, adorned the lobby's dark gray terrazzo floor, and behind the reception desk, where a dutiful company drone tapped at the dark teakwood surface (the keyboard was projected directly onto the desk), hung oversized portraits of the company’s past three CEOs. They loved to flaunt their image as saviors of the world, both in the media and in their own eyes. Billy didn’t recognize any of the faces, except for the young Zara Thandros, whose portrait also hung here. The beast gunning for her father’s empire, though for now, she only ruled over the solar panel factory in the Brooklyn Navy Yard. If the world were one of his beloved comic books, then Zara Thandros would be the supervillain in it. No doubt about it. Never before had a human possessed such a malevolent aura. And somehow, she already seemed to have superpowers: every time she came to the factory to check on things, the workers’ blood ran cold.

  The top floor is always full of predators. That’s just the way the world works.

  Whether it was Zara Thandros or some other boss, past or future—they were all slave drivers, lining their pockets while the rest of the world starved. Thandros Corp. had risen to become the world’s largest company in the early 2030s and had solidified its monopoly across the pharmaceutical industry, tech sector and food market. And now they had taken total control over the energy industry, too.

  If you want to control the world, you have to control its resources.

  The megacorporation soon became the leading producer of all technologies related to renewable energy, now branded as “R-Energy,” a name that spread through the lies of the TV networks. Thandros Corp., Billy’s employer, gained more financial and political power every day, privatizing the police force in Manhattan and now even seizing control of New York's water supply.

  No matter how much the company was praised in the media, Billy could never get on good terms with his employer. The pay was pitiful, the overtime was massive, the work exhausting and the atmosphere inside the supposedly “emission-free” solar panel factory was completely toxic. It felt like being on a slave ship—if that wasn’t putting it lightly.

  Billy shook his head and wondered, more intensely than ever, why he didn’t just walk out and enjoy the rest of his day. His mind screamed at him, warning him not to make the wrong choice. Yet, there was this feeling inside him, a feeling he couldn’t quite pin down, that urged him to resist the grip of his dull, predictable life. He just knew one thing: that urge was stronger than him. Stronger than common sense.

  You have Vivian! You’re committed!

  But after so many years of emotional emptiness, something was finally beginning to stir inside him. It bubbled up, making him feel free and… young again.

  And when you feel free and young, you're prone to making stupid decisions.

  I don’t have many memories of my past. Damn few, actually. But I know that when I was a kid, superheroes were simple to me, and that was exactly why I loved them so much. They showed up when things were broken, took a punch for someone weaker, and somehow made the world make sense again. Back then, I thought growing up meant becoming one of them. Stronger. Braver. Independent.

  Yeah, a voice in my head even told me, “You’re important, Billy.”

  Turns out growing up mostly means learning how unimportant you really are. That nothing special is waiting for you, unless you decide to do something special yourself.

  At some point, the comics stayed the same, but I didn’t. Heroes became unrealistic. Even downright naive, like something you eventually outgrow, the same way you stop believing adults actually know what they’re doing… because most of them don’t.

  I told myself that was maturity. That giving up was just part of the deal.

  I became disillusioned, sure, but my love for comics never went away.

  Sitting here now, writing these lines, pausing, and staring at the smug faces of great supervillains like the Joker, Doctor Doom, and Thanos, I feel it again. That stupid, dangerous thought from my youth. The one that whispers that the world shouldn’t belong to people like them. That someone should stand up. That someone should do something.

  That thought is why heroes exist.

  And it’s exactly the kind of thought that ruins your life.

  Doom Knight Dungeon.