Prologue

Tiff tried her best to keep her face neutral. If she showed too much interest, she’d get flagged as a tryhard, or worse, a nerd. Not that there was anything wrong with either. It was just that, as a new 16-year-old in her third year of high school—only three weeks into the school year—those labels made one stand out for all the wrong reasons. And the last thing Tiff wanted was to stand out. She was content to skirt by, invisible to the world around her.

A world where jocks tormented nerds mercilessly. The strong had always picked on the weak when people were young and dumb. Those plain and mundane stereotypes quickly lost their power and meaning once everyone graduated. In fact, not that very many people in Tiff’s class or even age range would understand, but the dynamics of power usually reversed once the teens entered the working world. The once weak, helpless, unfortunate souls sometimes became presidents and managers of influential companies. They often took dark joy looking down on their old tormentors after the second-rate athletes finished their short, usually unfulfilling, and poorly managed careers. Then, reality hit—they still needed to work for another 20 to 30 years. Payback was often ruthless, compounded with heavy interest.

Tiff often wondered if that was one of the reasons most bad guys were reedy, spindly little figures that might blow away in a stiff breeze, while relying on inventions or henchmen, while the heroes were big, beefy, mountains of muscle that tended to punch their problems away.

According to Mr. Hendricks, their teacher for Introductions to Powers and System Startup, that was a common misconception and stereotype. History had shown that just as many Villains had strength-based perks as Heroes often had technology- and “softer arts”- based perks, like energy manipulation or even flying.

But that was, sadly, irrelevant to most kids for the first month or so after they encountered the “mandatory elective” called Introductions to Powers and System Startup. Such a name was, of course, too much of a mouthful and was instantly shortened to IPSS. Obviously, no teenager in their right mind called it that either, most often opting to call it PISS instead.

Such an unfortunate name, Tiff sighed to herself as a snicker burst out somewhere to her left. Sadly, she couldn’t devote any more concentration to the front of the room where Mr. Hendricks was droning on, as her attention span was already shot. She was looking forward to going home for multiple reasons, not simply because she was addicted to the latest video game she stumbled across in the Summer Sale. Part of her simply wanted to escape any unwanted attention sent her way from things completely outside of her control.

“-ties into whatever requests the System makes of us-“

RIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGG!!!!

“-and that’s the bell,” Mr. Hendricks sighed and took a deep, steadying breath as any perceived attempt at paying attention was abandoned in favor of scrambling for backpacks before a mad rush to the door. Ever the optimist, he decided to get a few more words in before his students fled.

“Remember, there’s a test on Friday, but it’s all basic, general stuff, as not everybody has Awakened yet. Once January rolls around and everybody has, we’ll start getting into the real meat of how the System works.”

Several groans rang out at the mention of tests, despite how eager and excited every single person in the room was to start working on Quests. That, however, did not stop the burning sensation Tiff felt as all the eyes suddenly swiveled her way, silently judging her.

In their class of 32 kids, Tiff was the only one who hadn’t Awakened yet. Awakening only ever happened after a person turned 16, and her birthday was September 3rd, just a few weeks ago. She just barely made the deadline for her year of schooling, where kids born later were held back a year and, by extension, older than their peers in their grade.

But just because everyone else already had access to their Systems didn’t mean they knew what to do with them. It was expected, encouraged sometimes, that as soon as a child “Awakened” and gained access to the System, they’d play around with it. However, despite the tempting allure of potentially unlimited power, most kids instinctively understood that messing around with the System before they truly understood how it worked was a bad idea. Mostly due to the fear of potentially screwing up the rest of their lives.

Such occurrences were incredibly rare when a child could actually ruin themselves before adult supervision could kick in and properly guide them, but historically, it did happen. Those were the outliers, the very rare few, and in some cases, such kids were going to head down the path less traveled regardless of any amount of foresight or guidance.

Most of those were kids who Awakened to something more than the standard “Common Citizen”, which was what 97% of the world woke up to as a level 1. Getting pre-assigned a Class upon awakening was incredibly rare, even more than getting pre-affixed with an Affinity. Despite the common childhood dreams of becoming astronauts and firefighters, very few children woke up as Heroes. Most were of the neutral or common variety and had to work their way up from there. Only the very lucky started out as “Sidekicks” day one.

“Miss VanDyne, a moment of your time, please.”

Tiff groaned to herself and caught a few looks of pity thrown her way from her fleeing classmates. Nobody wanted to stay late after class, especially if the teacher singled them out. The only thing keeping her from devolving into an anxious puddle was the fact that she had been held back and asked the same exact question every single day since school started. She marched to the front of the class to Mr. Hendricks’ desk and spoke up before he even had a chance to open his mouth.

​“Not today,” Tiff chirped, trying to appear upbeat and not anxious as she peered up into the man’s questioning face. It wasn’t that he was an incredibly tall individual; Tiff was just short. At 16, she still had a chance to gain a little bit more height, but as she hadn’t had a growth spurt for years, it was unlikely she’d go any higher than her current petite size of 5 feet even. Mr. Hendricks gave her a lopsided smile and nodded. He, too, was tired of asking the question over and over again, but at least both parties understood it wasn’t done out of any nagging, pestering, or complaining. The question was simple, almost clinical, kept brief, polite, and professional.

​“Don’t worry. It’ll happen. Sometimes it just takes time.”

Funnily enough, she wasn’t worried until he mentioned it, and now she was starting to feel that pit form. What if she didn’t Awaken? What if she were the only one to never receive the System? She shook her head and cast away those unwanted thoughts. Literally everybody, no matter how weak and inconsequential, was part of the System.

The unasked question was, as always, “Did it happen today?”

Slightly paraphrased, of course.

Some days it was, “Have you Awakened today?”, and others, “Has your System come online?”

Every time, Tiff’s answer was some variation of “no” and “not today.”

Nobody was more eager to finally get access to the System than her, but she knew she wasn’t the only one tired of hearing the same thing over and over again. Mr. Hendricks did have a valid reason for asking her, though; since she was the last one in his class to awaken, he couldn’t start the full curriculum for the year. It didn’t really matter to him when his final student joined the rest of them; he’d gladly wait until the semester rolled over if need be. The poor girl’s classmates would not be so understanding.

Fortunately, all of the students had some grace to give, both having gone through exactly what Tiff was going through themselves, and the sole fact that this was the beginning of the school year and they still had a case of summertime laziness. Anything that delayed their coursework was a welcome setback. Until they realized they’d just have to play catch-up later, but that thought wouldn’t hit most of them until sometime in October.

“Remember, if you have any questions at all, feel free to ask.”

Tiff nodded amiably, shouldered her cumbersome backpack, and marched out the door. The question itself was harmless, but Tiff and Mr. Hendricks both knew that if she truly did have questions about having her system come online, there was very little he, or anyone, could give her in the way of information. Despite all the advances of humanity, how brilliant some of their best minds were and how marvelous their inventions were, they knew next to nothing of the System they shared their lives with. They knew they could summon up their Stats and Quests by willing them internally, not just shouting them out loud, and what some of the vague, cryptic descriptors it shared with them meant. And that was part of what this class would teach them, once they were all on a level playing field.

What they did not know was exactly when any given individual would finally “unlock” their Status. The most they could say was that some time after their 16th birthday, anywhere from several breaths after the exact moment their age ticked over, to several weeks (the record was nearly a full month). For Tiff, it had been less than 14 full days since she had her birthday, less than 2 full weeks. The people around her were getting antsy, but it wasn’t time to worry.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Besides, Tiff thought about it as she was herded in a line so much like cattle heading to a stable, as she joined the others taking her school bus back home. Some people say it’s good luck to Awaken late. The longer it takes, the stronger you’ll be!

That was, of course, completely unfounded. There was no tangible evidence to support either way on the relationship between one’s eventual Status and how long it took to Awaken it.

Just as well, because it kept Tiff from worrying about the other side of that argument. The one that claimed it was bad luck to Awaken late, and she would end up weak and useless because the System didn’t know where to put her and it was trying so hard to find somewhere that would actually fit.

The ride home was blessedly uneventful. Tiff kept to herself, occupied with her thoughts, scrunched against the window of a seat roughly in the middle of the bus as kids around her shouted incoherently at each other and threw wadded-up balls of paper. She’d been hit with one once before, not intentionally, as somebody had actually apologized (if that’s what a hastily muttered “oops, sorry” as the ball was retrieved could be called), and she was dismayed to learn that it was somebody’s balled-up homework sheet.

It hadn’t been filled out yet, and Tiff wasn’t sure whether that made it better or worse. She took solace in the fact that it probably wasn’t some poor kid’s chemistry sheet or something because not only was the worksheet empty, those kinds of notes were like gold to the rest of humanity that weren’t living calculators.

Tiff distracted herself by imagining what it would finally be like to be a part of the System herself. No matter how much she heard about it from people she knew and respected, from experts studying the System itself, nothing could prepare her, or anybody, for experiencing it themselves. Integration was something entirely unique, a phenomenon shared by everybody and yet so deeply personal that it could only truly be understood after undergoing it.

Would she become a standard Citizen, like the majority of her peers? She watched as her fellow students slowly dwindled as they trickled off the bus at their various stops. More than half a dozen buses serviced her high school alone, and she’d been seeing the students on this particular route for years now, so she knew them well enough to tell when one or more of them got uncharacteristically excited or depressed. They were also uncontrollable chatterboxes. She knew, whether she liked it or not, that not a single one of them was anything other than the expected “common” (unaffiliated on the Alignment scale) Citizen.

Or maybe she might become a bus driver? Tiff glanced at the hardened middle-aged woman who drove their bus, who looked like she could go a few rounds with a professional wrestler and might come out on top. It was clear to anyone with eyes that the woman had a class, but Tiff didn’t know if anyone had ever had the courage to ask what it was. Nothing said a person needed to spend their life doing what the System told them to. She could be a Bodyguard for all Tiff knew, who just so happened to want to drive school buses.

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