Chapter 1: Routine Shadows

The clatter of plates and the hum of hurried conversation filled the cramped diner. Gaona moved briskly behind the counter, balancing trays with a precision honed through countless shifts. Despite his exhaustion, his movements had a certain rhythm—one born from necessity rather than passion. His boss’s voice barked out from the kitchen, sharp and relentless.

“Table three is still waiting for their coffee! Get moving, Gaona!”

Cooking short orders was Gaona’s usual role—a repetitive, unremarkable task he had come to accept as routine. Yet today’s chaos turned his already monotonous job into an overwhelming juggling act. Today, however, he was forced to fill multiple roles—busboy, server, dishwasher, and cook. With half the staff absent—some sick, others simply disappearing without notice—Gaona found himself stepping into every role the diner required, stretching his limits. The diner always seemed to be on the verge of falling apart, much like everything else in Civic Sector Delta.

Gaona didn’t complain—what would be the point? Complaints wouldn’t undo the chaos or fix the fractures in a life he’d long accepted as unremarkable. Complaining wouldn’t change the situation, and it wouldn’t make his paycheck any bigger. He focused on the task in front of him, weaving between tables with practiced precision, his tray balancing precariously with cups of coffee and plates of food.

His life was predictable, monotonous even. The same routine, the same faces, and the same tired longing for something different. But what could he expect? This was life inside the biodome, where survival was a privilege and dreams were a luxury.

The City Outside

The biodome’s glow painted the city in a pale imitation of sunlight, its towering translucent walls both a sanctuary and a silent reminder of what had been lost. Built after the catastrophic events of the Seven Dragons, the dome was humanity’s last refuge—a controlled environment meant to protect what little was left of the population.

Gaona’s district was one of the poorer ones, filled with dilapidated buildings and endless reminders of a world that had been lost. The streets were crowded, yet lifeless, with people trudging through their days as if waiting for something—anything—to change.

And then there were the Archons.

Walking among the humans were the mechanical companions—some sleek and polished, others clunky and utilitarian. They were machines, tools designed to assist and serve, but they were also a constant reminder of humanity’s reliance on technology. Most people couldn’t afford one, especially not in Civic Sector Delta. The only Archons here were either outdated models or owned by the wealthier few who had chosen to remain in the district for reasons unknown.

End of the Day

Gaona finished his shift well past midnight, his body aching from the nonstop work. He walked home through the dimly lit streets, his head down to avoid eye contact with the occasional passerby. The air inside the dome was clean but stale, lacking the natural scents of the world that had existed before.

His apartment was small and cluttered, with bags of trash and recyclables piling up in the corners. He didn’t bother cleaning. What was the point? No one visited him, and he had long since stopped caring about appearances.

He dropped his bag by the door and collapsed onto the worn-out couch. Dinner was leftovers from the diner—a cold sandwich and a few fries he had managed to sneak out without anyone noticing. He ate in silence, staring at the cracked screen of his tablet as it displayed an old, familiar game.

When he finished eating, he set the plate aside and pulled up his email. Most of it was spam—ads for products he couldn’t afford or notifications about bills he couldn’t pay. But one subject line caught his eye:

“The Archon Lottery: Your Chance at a Brighter Future!”

He clicked on it out of curiosity. The government-run lottery had been heavily advertised recently, promising one lucky winner an advanced Archon companion—fully integrated and customizable. It was meant to symbolize hope, a reminder that even in the darkest districts, there was still a chance for change.

Gaona scoffed. It was a nice thought, but he didn’t believe it. The lottery was probably rigged, designed to favor the upper districts where people didn’t even need help. Still, the idea lingered in his mind as he closed the email.

He stared at the ceiling for a while, the faint hum of the biodome’s ventilation system filling the silence.

Dreams of Sparks

When sleep finally came, it was restless. Gaona dreamed of faint, flickering sparks—glimpses of light in a vast, dark void. The shapes they formed were incomprehensible, shifting and fading before he could make sense of them.

He woke up with a start, the image of the sparks still vivid in his mind. For a moment, he felt a strange sense of hope, like something new was just on the horizon. But as the reality of his surroundings settled in, the feeling quickly faded.

Tomorrow would be another day, another endless cycle of work and survival. But somewhere, deep down, the idea of the Archon Lottery remained, a tiny spark in the back of his mind.

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