Shattered City: (A litRPG/LitFPS book) (Call of Reality Book 1) Read online

  Shattered City

  Call of Reality, Volume 1

  Aidan Colyer

  Published by Aidan Colyer, 2019.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  SHATTERED CITY

  First edition. January 6, 2019.

  Copyright © 2019 Aidan Colyer.

  Written by Aidan Colyer.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1.

  Chapter 2.

  Chapter 3.

  Chapter 4.

  Chapter 5.

  Chapter 6.

  Chapter 7.

  Chapter 8.

  Chapter 9.

  Chapter 10.

  Chapter 11.

  Chapter 12.

  Chapter 13.

  Chapter 14.

  Chapter 15.

  Chapter 16.

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18.

  Chapter 19.

  Chapter 20.

  Chapter 21.

  Chapter 22.

  Chapter 23.

  Chapter 24.

  Chapter 25.

  Chapter 26.

  Chapter 27.

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29.

  Chapter 30.

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  Chapter 1.

  The line at the Jobcentre moved at a snail‘s pace. Roland shuffled forward with the others. He clutched his tattered notebook as he stamped his feet trying to warm himself. He had been coming here every day for the last three months. His previous employer had cut him loose as they had finally managed to catch up with their competition and buy an AI-based packing system. The job before might as well have been temporary. His contract only lasted for a few weeks before he was replaced by a generation three android.

  He tried to calculate how long the city‘s worker stipend could be eked out over the month. Last month he was forced to cut his meals to two a day to get by. He was lean now and it wasn’t from working out. That was a waste of his energy. An autocab hovered by its repellers splashing an icy puddle up the legs of his faded jeans. He glared at it for a moment before shuffling forward once again.

  The neon light from the Jobcentre sign flickered overhead adding a surreal clarity to the near twilight the city lived in.

  Ever since the second industrial revolution work had dried up for any not highly qualified. Roland was one of those. He got by at school but didn’t make the cut for the state-funded higher learning. The neo-Luddites furiously pushed back scrambling AI memory banks and inserting false trolley problem data in vehicles. The military made short work of them and the government later introduced a statutory income to everyone who lived in the city. At first, it worked but each year inflation outstripped the increases. There were few companies who still used physical labour. By physical labour, they really meant unqualified people. The more the technology advanced the fewer jobs were available to humans.

  Roland mulled over his life choices wondering where he could have been if he had managed to hit the percentile level needed for the higher status jobs. A few more terms tutoring in physics and he might have earned it. He finally reached the door to the office. the edge of the frame shone light blue and buzzed from heavy use. He pulled up his sleeve to scan his implant as he entered. Without that he wouldn’t get a single penny and those two meals a day would seem like the days of luxury.

  Inside the line split into 10 different queues. Roland checked the overhead boards and the number on his chip display before heading to queue number eight. Thankfully, this seemed to be the fastest moving line. Either they had a lot of basic jobs or they had none at all. It didn’t matter to him. There was no way that he could change the outcome and make a difference to his prospects. The floating hard light screens showed platitudes from the city politicians promising retraining schemes and workfare schemes. He glanced at the repeat count on them. It was in the thousands for every video. He turned to look at another set of screens which listed stock market charts. Every single one of them was doing well. The scrolling headline was a record high for the tenth year in a row. He scowled. He had worked for one of those broker companies a few years back. They had laughed at him and called him humanbot. They even refused him a name badge to save money. He hadn’t lasted long, and he never thought he would.

  The desk was close now. He could hear the usual angry arguments and the snap of plastisheet documents as those in the same position as him shed their remaining anger at those behind the desks. It wouldn’t be long before those people were on the other side of their desks either. Looking right he could see the tenth desk was being converted already.

  Roland was up next. He stepped backwards to let the angry woman who had been in front of him storm off. Approaching the desk he looked at the forlorn expression on the clerk‘s face. The forced smile greeted him and he sat in the faded plastic chair. Sliding his plastisheet record onto the desk he flashed back an equally empty smile.

  “Any jobs for me today?” Roland asked the last vestiges of hope trying to swim to the surface.

  The clerk scanned his record and reviewed the information on a hard light screen to their side.

  “I’m afraid that there are no jobs for your skill class today Mr Mellors.”

  The hope subsided before it had even broken into any true emotion.

  “None at all?”

  “I’m afraid not.” They looked closely at the screen, “I have some bad news for you as well.”

  The hope turned to fear and rose further.

  “Your skill level means that with a lack of work for three months your stipend will once again be reduced.”

  “Why?” Roland replied his heart dropping.

  “New city regulation 3986F states that anyone who does not qualify for work after three months gets a reduced stipend if above level E,” the clerk said with about as much emotion as the machine that would soon replace him would have.

  “But you are the ones not giving me work?” Roland bit back. His face warming up as his anger rose.

  “If we do not have jobs available we can’t give them to you. There are private means of getting work. Perhaps you should peruse them if you wish to raise your stipend again.”

  Roland scowled at the clerk.

  “I’ll see you in the line.” Roland scowled as he grabbed his plastisheet record and stood up. The chair tipped and clattered to the floor. He ignored it as he stormed out of the building. The air felt colder, but he suspected it was just the lack of heatsinks inside that made him feel that way. He shoved the documents inside his coat and stuck his hands in his pockets. Looking both ways for autocabs he crossed the road. The other side of the street bustled with life. Most of it living behind glazed eyes and 40-yard stares. A rainbow of flickering neon-lit his way as he trudged towards his flat. He stopped walking when he arrived at the district crossroads. He stared along the boulevard. Translucent neon lights shone across Teflon coated microsilk dresses and fibresteel suits. Laughter and music rose and fell as doors to bars and restaurants opened and closed. He narrowed his eyes as he watched people spending credits without a thought. Pulling his hand out of his pocket he opened it. He was clutching the last of his credits for this month. It wasn’t many but he could buy a beer in an upscale bar. One that didn’t have door droids at least.

  He considered the way into his district and watched the lights blinking t
heir staccato ambience across the fetid puddles and ragged garments of his block. He looked back at the bright lights and laughter then spun on his heel and walked towards them.

  As he drew closer people turned to give him looks. His clothes didn’t look that bad. They were just older and not high fashion. That was enough in this district. He scanned the numerous bars and boutiques. Every single one of them had door droids. He carried on hoping that security would be laxer the deeper he got into the upscale streets.

  After 30 minutes he realised that would not be the case. He stopped and decided to walk home. As he retraced his steps, he realised that he would have to go through that sense of embarrassment again. Looking around, he ducked into a side road and headed down it hoping he could turn into another one soon. The buzz of the main thoroughfare lessened the further he went. As he checked the establishments, he noticed one that didn’t have a door droid. Trying not to look too obvious he angled towards it. He kept his cap low and stared at the pavement right in front of him until he came to the door. Without hesitation, he pushed it open and entered. He looked up and realised where he was.

  It was a recruitment office. Just his luck. He walks for the best part of an hour and ends up in another job centre.

  Roland looked around seeing several people eyeing him. He shuffled to the side and studied the signs. This wasn’t any old recruitment centre it was a military recruitment centre. Roland felt panic setting in as his muscles went rigid. He wanted a job but dying for the elites who created this mess really didn’t appeal to him at all. There was a line in the sand he drew on these sorts of issues. He glanced to the door and then shuffled his way towards it as he pretended to read the hard light screens. The ubiquitous screens were placed liberally around the office which helped. As he glanced at one showing a smiling youth in a synthsteel combat uniform a shadow fell across him. He looked up.

  “Can I help you, sir?”

  He stared at the chiselled features of a soldier with a smile that looked like it had been carved from marble.

  “No, thank you,” Roland stammered and searched for a way past the recruiting officer.

  “Come now, son. You wouldn’t be in here if you didn’t want to at least see what we had available.”

  “Well, actually I walked in here by mistake.”

  The officer glanced at the service crest etched into the glass of the windows and then back at Roland.

  “I doubt that. I noticed you have a pack of documents in your jacket. Your portfolio I guess.”

  Roland peered down at his jacket not seeing his documents poking out. He stared at the recruiting officer and caught their eyes focusing in and out. Their faint purple glow shone from the underside of the peaked cap they wore. X-ray vision. Great. There was no way out now.

  “Oh yes, I err.”

  Roland stuttered as he pulled the documents from his inside pocket. He flattened them and handed them to the recruiter. The purple light changed to green, and the eyes focused on the sheets.

  “Hm well, I might be able to do something with you. Follow me.”

  The recruiter moved away towards a desk at the back of the office. Roland followed more to keep his documents in sight than because he wanted to join the military. The officer sat at the desk and called up hard light displays. One faced Roland, and the other faced the officer. The display was blank until the recruiter looked the documents over several times. An image of the documents appeared on the screen. The recruiter tapped at a few of the buttons on his side of the desk. The image morphed until it showed a form. His data populated the form. Options turned green and others turned red. A counter appeared at the side of the screen. It started with a high number and scrolled down. As Roland watched it fluctuate the recruiter spoke again.

  “Could you scan your chip here please?”

  He held out a small device that was nondescript. Roland scanned his chip, and the form scrolled once more. Other information joined the numbers at the side and then scrolled up and down in a dance of algorithm output. It finally settled on 10 for every number.

  “There is good news for you. You are eligible to join us.”

  Roland went cold. There was no way he could say no and not have it recorded. There was no way he wanted to say yes either. Saying no would cut his entire stipend and he wouldn’t be able to say yes to anything else even if he wanted too.

  “What as?” Roland asked frowning.

  “Why; as a standard soldier of course. Thankfully you are category D. Category E and you would only be eligible for menial support tasks.”

  “I assume I can decline the offer,” Roland said.

  “That would be your choice. Remember you will have your stipend removed until you find another job. If you refuse that is.”

  It was as Roland had feared. It left him with a choice that wasn’t a choice. Join the military or starve to death. Military it was then.

  Chapter 2.

  Roland glanced over the documents laid out on the screen. The recruiter pushed a small pad across the table. Roland stared at it.

  “What is that for?”

  “They require you to scan your ID chip before we can begin the full sign-up process.”

  Roland pulled up his sleeve and then hesitated before scanning his chip. The device made a single high-pitched beep and then a green light flickered on.

  “Excellent. Now, if you follow me, I shall have you work through the tests to decide if you are what we need at the moment.”

  “What if I am not?” Roland asked as he got up to follow the recruiter.

  “Well, you will go on the list until there is a position for you to fill or until we have helped you reach the required level. From what I have seen of your records this should merely be a formality though Mr Mellors.”

  The Recruiter reached a door at the back of the office and scanned his chip. The door slid open, and the recruiter stepped back gesturing for him to enter. A strange hazy field obscured Roland’s view past the doorway. He sucked in a deep breath and stepped through the field. The door slid closed behind him while he looked around. He found himself in a fancy elevator judging by the polished surfaces. A light flashed on and a blue field scanned through the elevator. Roland stood still waiting. The light reached the wall opposite the door and then stopped. A sequence of beeps echoed around the enclosed space followed by a green light set on the wall that blinked on. Roland looked at it and then the elevator moved.

  Roland turned towards the doors waiting to find out where it would take him. His stomach dropped as it shifted from upward motion into sideways motion. The elevator moved swiftly but smoothly stopping quicker than Roland thought it would. The doors opened as soon as the elevator had settled and revealed the same haze he had seen before he entered. He stepped through it into the room beyond. The doors hissed as they closed behind him while he tried to get his bearings. A large counter split the room down the centre. It separated him from a series of booths all of which had a hazy field concealing their contents. Two recruiters stood behind the counter waiting. These soldiers wore uniforms that were more practical and less parade dress as the guys downstairs had looked. They both looked at him as he approached.

  “Good evening, sir. Please scan yourself here.” The one to the right said gesturing towards a device similar to the one downstairs. Roland did as they asked him and noticed a hard light screen appear above the counter. The second soldier scrolled through the information before nodding to the first.

  “If you would like to come with me Mr Mellors, we will find you a booth.” He lifted a piece of the counter that didn’t look like it should move and stepped back. Roland walked through and stopped on the other side as the soldier replaced the piece. He walked along the corridor between the booths until he found an unoccupied one. He opened a glass door and let Roland in.

  “Please sit at the desk and wait for further instructions that will appear on the screen.”

  Roland turned to thank the soldier, but they had already shut the door.
The glass shimmered and then the hazy field fell across the outside of the booth. Warily Roland approached the desk. It had a simple brushed steel design. A similarly brushed steel seat sat in the centre of the longest side.

  As he sat in the seat, a hard light screen appeared in front of him.

  “Good evening Mr Mellors. This test is to make sure that you will be adequate for our needs. Please scan your chip on the side of the terminal box.” Roland jumped as the voice came out of nowhere. The box on the table that projected the screen was small but had the same device he had encountered before prominently built into the side. He once again scanned his chip wondering how many times he would have to do that before he got more information.

  “Thank you, Mr Mellors. Now, look at the screen.”

  Roland stared at the screen and waited. His records scrolled by just too fast to read but slow enough for him to recognise what they were. When they reached the bottom, a message box popped up on the screen. Click yes to proceed candidate.

  Roland clicked the yes button without hesitation. His records disappeared from view as six boxes appeared on the screen. The boxes formed a grid three across and two high. The categories were: Basic commands, Training test, Record exchange, Physical exam, Practical test, and FAQ. He considered them for a second before reaching for the screen to touch the sixth box. Just before he could touch it the voice piped up again.

  “Please touch the box labelled basic commands please.” Roland shifted his hand and clicked the box that had been highlighted.

  Roland's selection enlarged to fill the entire screen. Multiple-choice questions scrolled into view and filled the box.

  “A short video will precede each question. The video will explain the information and you will then receive a prompt instructing you to answer the correct option by clicking on the requisite choice.”

  At a glance, Roland wondered what the actual point was. These answers seemed super simple. The first question read shooting at the enemy. Its answers were: shoot, do not shoot, ask for clarification. He reached out and pressed the small icon above the question. A prompt appeared on the screen.