A young man named Josiah Chukks, with striking purple hair, stood in front of a World Populated Nation (WPN) building. The structure towered above him, all glass and steel, reflecting a crowded city that never seemed to sleep. He clutched his bag tightly, fingers digging into the worn fabric, and took a deep breath before stepping forward.
His chest rose and fell once. Twice.
"You got this, Jo. This is the only way," he muttered to himself, his voice barely louder than the traffic behind him.
He pushed the doors open and walked inside. The lobby was wide and painfully clean. People moved with purpose, heads down, eyes fixed on screens or papers, like ants marching in straight lines. Josiah hesitated for a second before approaching the reception desk.
"I'm looking for Mr. Adam," he said the moment he reached it.
The young lady behind the desk slowly raised her head, eyes scanning him from his purple hair down to his shoes. She stared at him, or rather, the boy.
"Mr. Adam.... what is your business with him?" she asked, chewing her gum loudly, the sound sharp in the quiet lobby.
"I want to volunteer myself."
Her eyebrows lifted slightly.
"For what job position, young man?"
"To leave the planet."
The words hung in the air. The chewing stopped. The gum rested between her teeth as she leaned back in her chair and looked him over from head to toe, this time slower, more deliberate.
"Are you sure about what you just said? This is a serious matter. No pranks or shitty business," she said, her tone losing its casual edge. She needed to be reassured. No one had ever walked in and volunteered for something like this.
Josiah nodded, a small smile forming on his lips. It was calm, almost relieved, like he had finally said something he had been holding in for a long time.
The lady let out a brief sigh, pushed her chair back, and stood up. She grabbed her tablet from the desk.
"Come. Follow me," she said, already turning away. Josiah followed.
On this planet, people reproduced far more than they died. Birth rates skyrocketed while death rates fell, and the result was a world packed too tightly with human life. Cities grew upward and downward, homes shrank, and breathing space became a luxury. Living conditions worsened as resources stretched thin.
To solve the crisis, the government approved a special organization tasked with finding a solution. That organization was WPN. Its CEO proposed a radical idea, one that terrified some and inspired others. Teleport willing volunteers to another world and let humanity breathe again. And today, the very first volunteer was a young boy who had simply walked in and offered himself.
"What is it? Can't you see I'm in a meeting?" Mr. Adam said sharply when he noticed his receptionist, Tracy, standing outside his office through the transparent wall.
He noticed the boy beside her and stood up, straightening his suit as he walked over.
"Who's this? Wait, wait don't tell me this is another child of mine," he said, rubbing his chin. It was not the first time someone had tried to pin an offspring on him.
"No sir," Tracy said quickly, lowering her voice. "This is Josiah Chukks. He says he wants to volunteer… to leave the planet."
The moment the words left her mouth, Mr. Adam froze. His hand came down on Josiah's shoulder, firm but not gentle.
"Are you sure, boy? No one is forcing you to do this."
"Yes sir. This is my decision. No family pressure," Josiah replied without hesitation.
"Did he fill and sign all the documents?" Adam asked, eyes still fixed on Josiah.
"Yes sir, he did."
"Cancel all my meetings," Adam said. Then he looked at Josiah. "You follow me."
Josiah nodded and followed Mr. Adam into the elevator. The doors slid shut, and before Josiah could brace himself, the elevator dropped. It did not rise. It fell. The speed stole the air from his lungs. His stomach lurched violently as the numbers flashed downward. Panic surged through him as he grabbed onto Mr. Adam's arm, fingers tight, knuckles white. Mr. Adam did not flinch.
Josiah screamed the entire way down, his voice echoing off metal walls until the elevator finally slowed and stopped. The doors opened.
Two people waited outside, a man and a woman dressed in white lab coats. The cold, sterile smell hit him immediately.
"Get the boy a bucket or something before he pukes on my floor," Adam said.
The woman quickly grabbed a takeaway container from a nearby table and handed it to Josiah. He barely had time to take it before he vomited into it, his body folding in on itself. When he was done, shaking and breathless, he handed it back.
"Thank you," he said softly.
The woman grimaced and tossed it into a trash can.
"Ready the portal," Adam instructed.
The two scientists moved toward a massive circular machine embedded in the floor. Lights blinked to life as the hum of power filled the room.
"While they prepare, may I ask why you're volunteering?" Adam said, his voice calm, almost curious.
"Just five words. I hate this world," Josiah replied.
"You said four," Adam said, his expression tightening.
"How old are you to hate the world so much?"
"16," Josiah answered. "This world sucks. Too many people make it sucker. I didn't ask to be brought into this world, but I was. The people who brought me here didn't take care of me. They tossed me to my grandparents so they could live their lives and keep populating the planet.
"My grandparents raised me. Bought my first game. Took care of me when I was sick. Now my granny is sick, and there's no family to look after her or pay for her treatment. My grandpa was retired, but now he has to work again just to cover medical bills.
"I want to repay their kindness. I want them to be happy."
His voice cracked. His eyes filled with tears, but he did not look away.
"And you think disappearing from this world will make them happy?" Adam asked.
"It's the only way," Josiah said. "I can't bear seeing my grandma suffer knowing there was a way to help."
"Sir, the portal is ready," the woman announced.
They instructed Josiah to stand in the middle of the circular machine. The floor beneath his feet vibrated softly.
"Being the first to be teleported is a great honor, Josiah Chukks," Adam said. "If this is successful, others will join you. I'm sure many people are willing to save their loved ones for 20 million dollars."
"20 million?" Josiah asked. "I thought you said 5o."
He remembered the news. The billboards. The promises of donating 50 million to the family of who volunteered.
"Come on, boy," Adam replied. "This is the real world. At least be happy your grandmother will be safe and get to live many more years. The government doesn't pay us enough, so you have to be smart to survive in a world like this."
The man in the lab coat pulled a lever. Lightning sparked around the circle, crawling like living veins of light.
"If you're lucky, you'll end up on a better planet where humans like us don't exist," Adam said. "The real problem isn't overpopulation. It's humans themselves. I was like you once. I hate the world too. At least you were raised by grandparents."
Lightning struck Josiah's body. Pain exploded through him. He screamed as the energy tore through his veins, burning, crushing, worse than the pneumonia he had suffered as a child. His vision blurred as the machine roared.
"The only way to survive in any world is to be powerful and wealthy. Plus smart," Adam said calmly. "I hope you learn to love the world you find yourself in."
"Goodbye, Josiah Chukks."
And with that, Josiah vanished into thin air.