The city choked under the weight of the night's rain. Puddles mirrored the hazy glow of neon signs, their light blurred by the silhouettes of abandoned buildings.
A young man sprinted through narrow alleys. Each step sent a dull splash through the grimy water, slick with oil stains and flickering red reflections. Rain lashed his face, mingling with beads of sweat. He didn't look back. He knew no one was there, yet he felt piercing, cold stares—like steel boring into his back. His heart pounded in rhythm with the echo of his footsteps, thrashing in his chest as if trying to escape before he could. His hands clenched into fists—not from the cold, but from something deeper, a fear that clawed at him invisibly.
A sharp turn. A tight passage between rusted containers. A slick staircase upward. A few more steps, and a heavy door met him with a dull thud against the wall. He slammed it shut, pressing his back against it, sliding down to the cold floor. Outside, the rain whispered its melancholic song, now muffled, like the echo of a distant storm.
He was home. Or at least, in the place he called home. But his heart still hammered.
Gasping, he whispered,
"Okay… no more… ha…"
He stumbled to the elevator and pressed the button for the fifth floor. As the doors closed, his thoughts spiraled.
Thoughts: How did I manage to miss the damn bus? Had to run all the way here… All because of that old geezer, whining about my module being "substandard." What did he expect, shopping on the black market? Damn it! If I had the money, I'd never deal with people like him. I'd be working as an engineer in some company, or at least as a handyman, like my old job…
The elevator's arrival chime snapped him out of his thoughts.
He silently fished out his keys as he approached apartment number 13, sighed, and unlocked the door.
Shedding his soaked jacket and draping it over a chair by the radiator, he powered on his computer.
Thoughts: Guess I should eat something… You can't even get decent food on that market. I'm already regretting moving to this city from my hometown. What's wrong with this place? Why's everyone so obsessed with modules and enhancements? Can't people live without them? I don't have a single module or implant, and I'm doing fine… Who am I kidding? I just can't afford proper enhancements. And I'm not sticking that black-market junk in my body—not even the stuff I make myself. Good materials cost good money.
He lingered by the computer for a moment before heading to the kitchen. Pulling a square packet from the cupboard, he muttered,
"Here it is! 'The tastiest food of all time!' Instant noodles…"
He snorted, a bitter smirk crossing his face, the kind worn by someone who'd long since lost hope.
After preparing the noodles, he carried them to the table where his computer sat. Opening his black-market seller profile, he scanned the latest reviews.
Thoughts: Let's see… Three stars, four stars, three stars, and… one star!?
His blood boiled at the sight of the rating.
"For what!? I don't make mistakes. I always test the enhancements before selling them—not on myself, but I test them! Alright, let's see the review… Damn it, it's that old geezer. 'Behaved rudely to the customer! His goods are worthless! Stay away from this guy!' That old…"
Staring at the review, he twitched his leg in frustration, his face a mask of anger and resentment.
Thoughts: Screw it! Screw the black market! I'd rather work for some company—doesn't matter what job—as long as it's far from people like him. I'm deleting this account.
He opened the settings, hovered the cursor over "Delete Profile," hesitated, then clicked.
Thoughts: Now I just need to find a site to post my resume… Here we go. Registered. Time to fill out the form.
Resume Form
Name: Arvin
Surname: Holt
Desired Position: Handyman
Age: 20
ID Number: 93579275
About Me:
I'm Arvin Holt, a responsible and hardworking professional with experience in various handyman services. I quickly adapt to new tasks and excel in both team and independent work. Stress-resistant, punctual, and committed to seeing tasks through to completion. Skilled in tackling unconventional challenges and executing assignments efficiently.
Work Experience:
3 years
Handyman, TechServ — an international company specializing in logistics and technical maintenance.
• Performed various repair and technical tasks.
• Ensured uninterrupted equipment operation.
• Maintained order at work sites.
References from Previous Employment:
(Attached file)
Submit Resume
Thoughts, Arvin: Let's double-check… Looks good.
Clicking "Submit Resume," Arvin leaned back in his chair, relaxing.
Glancing at his cluttered desk, he mused,
Thoughts, Arvin: What about my tools? Sell them? Nah, they might come in handy someday…
Arvin's room was a chaotic haven, a mess to outsiders but a perfect system to him. In the corner, by his cluttered desk, stood his trusty "assistant"—a mechanical frame resembling the skeleton of a failed robot. Artificial joints bore soldering scars, and thin wires ran like veins to microchips on its chest. It had no eyes or voice, just a soulless shell for testing, but Arvin had long since given it a personality in his mind—silent, patient, and never complaining, unlike people.
His desk was a treasure trove of tools, each a fragment of another world. At its center sat optical vision lenses, disguised as ordinary glasses but glowing faintly green when activated, revealing minute details from micro-cracks in plastic to invisible laser markers. Nearby lay miniature plasma soldering tools, their needle-like tips precise but temperamental.
A scratched-up darget scanner, branded with the faded logo of some long-forgotten company, could analyze material structures in seconds—when it felt like working. A magnetic manipulator, resembling a glove with metallic filaments stretching from wrist to fingertips, let Arvin lift and rotate tiny components without touching them, like an invisible hand.
And then there was his trusty multi-tool, part screwdriver, part scalpel, with retractable tips for every occasion. Stained with oil and dust, it remained reliable.
Rising from his chair, Arvin approached his workbench.
"Time to build those remote-controlled mechanical arms," he said with a grin. "If I get a job, I won't have time for this later."
He picked up the plasma soldering tool, smirking.
"Let's see, buddy, can you handle another day… or are you gonna blow up like last time?"
The room filled with the soft hum of tools as work began. For Arvin, this wasn't just a craft—it was his life.
Midnight. The work was done. Amid the chaos of wires and tools, a pair of mechanical arms stood on the desk—not mere metal limbs but the embodiment of Arvin's engineering obsession.
Their uniqueness lay beyond their design. Arvin didn't plan to control them manually. He'd built a custom neuro-interface—a sleek helmet lined with intricate sensors that read neural impulses and translated thoughts into precise movements. Motion sensors, thin as a second skin, wrapped around his wrists and fingers, capturing the slightest muscle twitches and syncing with the helmet for flawless control.
But the arms' true purpose ran deeper. The nanomaterial Arvin worked with was volatile, reacting unpredictably to biological tissue. A single touch could trigger a chain reaction or structural collapse. The mechanical arms, immune to this flaw, could handle the material with perfect stability.
Exhausted, Arvin removed the helmet, ran a hand through his hair, and gazed at his creation.
"There you are… my extension. Let's see what you can do."
He donned the helmet again. The mechanical fingers twitched, then smoothly clenched into a fist. Arvin smiled.
Suddenly, a notification pinged from his computer's speakers.
Removing the sensors and helmet, he approached the screen.
Thoughts, Arvin: What's this? A job offer? Already? It's midnight—aren't offices closed? Whatever, let's see…
He sat down, clicked the email, and read aloud:
"Hello, Arvin Holt. Your application caught the attention of Core Dynamic Systems. After reviewing your resume, we're impressed by your experience in technical maintenance and equipment repair.
If you're interested, we offer you the position of Technical Specialist. Your responsibilities will include monitoring equipment performance, system diagnostics, and repair and maintenance as needed.
The salary is 10,000 credits per month, plus bonuses for resolving major malfunctions.
If you're open to this opportunity, please visit us tomorrow at 9 a.m. Sincerely, HR Department, Core Dynamic Systems."
Attached: A map with the workplace location… Not far from here.
Arvin stared at the screen, then leaned back in his chair.
Thoughts, Arvin: A legit job this fast? And that salary… Back in my day, I barely scraped 2,000–2,500 credits a month. Suspicious, but the company seems reputable. Hmm, probably worth checking out. Could be a scam, but the email looks official—not like some shady con.
He stood, powered off the computer, and muttered,
"Alright, we'll figure it out in the morning. For now—sleep."