Luminaria City pulsed like an urban heart in the middle of a party. Fast cars, stylish youth, and neon lights set the rhythm of the night.
Lucien Voss adjusted the collar of his black shirt as he stepped out of the Uber. His silhouette stood out among the bustle: tall, firm gaze, and a natural elegance that didn't need to flaunt itself. He wasn't a millionaire. Not even rich. But he looked the part.
That was enough.
He crossed the entrance to the house where the private party roared with electronic music. Someone greeted him with enthusiasm:
—Hey, Voss! You came alone again?
—As always —he replied with a faint smile, the kind he used to keep everything to himself.
—You're such a damn ninja, bro. No one knows anything about your life. Still living off what your folks left you?
—Something like that…
A lie. The only thing his parents left him was a forgotten grave and a last name that barely meant anything. He had been living alone since he was sixteen. Now, at twenty-three, he survived thanks to his work as an online translator for corporate documents. Nobody knew. And that's how he liked it.
That night, he had a single drink. Talked to three people. Turned down a model who tried to pull him into the bathroom. And as always, he left without making noise.
Back at his apartment, he sat at his desk. The clock read 3:17 a.m. He opened his laptop and logged into his translation platform. One urgent assignment: a 19-page legal contract.
He sighed. He was about to start... when something happened.
The screen flickered.
Then, it went black.
And a message appeared in white letters, no sender, no window:
[RECORD SYSTEM ACTIVATED]
Welcome, Lucien Voss.
Your existence has been selected.
From this moment on, every meaningful action may be recorded.
Each record will be rewarded according to impact, difficulty, and resonance.
Lucien froze.
A virus? A game?
The cursor blinked. A new line appeared:
Enter your first record.
—What the hell…? —he muttered.
On impulse, he typed:
"I refuse to live like a mediocre man."
He hit Enter.
Nothing happened at first. Then another line appeared:
Record accepted.
Reward: $2,000 USD deposited into a new account. Digital card sent.
Influence Level: Minimal. Exposure Level: 0%.
Record Rank: Initial.
Lucien blinked. He opened a new tab. Logged into his digital bank.
There was a new account. In his name. With $2,000 available.
His heart pounded.
He went back to the previous tab. But it had vanished. The laptop looked the same. The legal contract was still there.
—This can't be real…
Then he received an email.
From: [email protected]
"You now hold the power to define your life through words.
Don't waste your records. Don't repeat them. Don't lie.
Warning: each one reveals something about you to the world."
Attached: a digital Blackbox card, already activated with the stated funds.
Lucien stood up abruptly. He walked through the apartment. He didn't shout. He didn't smile. He just thought.
What did this mean? Was it real? A trap? A trick?
He checked the balance again. Still there. Two thousand dollars.
Not a fortune. But for someone like him, used to calculating every expense, it was... a beginning.
—What if I use this wisely? —he murmured. —What if I don't go crazy?
The next morning, he ordered breakfast delivery. A decent one, from a restaurant he usually only saw in pictures. Not luxurious. Not flashy. Just... dignified.
He ate while checking his assignments. Finished the late-night contract, submitted two other minor jobs. Made another $84.
Then, without ceremony, he opened the notes app on his phone and typed:
"The rules of the world no longer apply to me."
Record accepted.
Reward: Temporary membership to an executive coworking space in Luminaria City. Duration: 1 week.
Rank: Philosophical. Exposure Level: +0.2%
Lucien raised an eyebrow. Nothing spectacular. But useful.
He grabbed his coat. Pocketed the phone. And walked out.
He knew not everything had changed.
But deep down, something had.
And for now, that was enough.