Consciousness returned in jerks, along with a dull ache in my wrist. I opened my eyes and the first thing I did was look at my arm. The metal ring gleamed dimly, as if nothing had happened. Traitor. The remnant of the electrical discharge still pulsed in my head, and the ice-cold compound the chip had injected into my neck was solidifying in my veins.

  I tried to sit up. The room was small, bathed in soft evening light. A foreign place.

  Suddenly, footsteps sounded outside the door. The bathroom door opened, releasing a cloud of steam, and a man walked into the room, yawning lazily and scratching the back of his head. He looked about thirty or a little older. Noticing that I had come to, he stopped.

  "Oh, you're awake, kid? You're a total mess, of course," he walked over to the table, not showing an ounce of aggression. "Found you in the lobby, lying right in the middle of the hallway like a dead body. You're lucky it was me. If someone else had stumbled upon you, you could have kissed your clothes and money goodbye. By the way, we're roommates now."

  He held out his hand to me, but I didn't even budge. Questions swarmed in my head: why did this piece of iron on my arm shock me? What kind of junk are they pumping into me?

  The man, not getting a handshake, didn't take offense at all. He walked over to his bag and turned around.

  "Listen, kid... how old are you anyway? Actually, forget it, I already know. Arkgrim, fourteen years old. Sorry, while you were out cold, I looked through all your things. But strictly for the purpose of helping, got it? You never know, you could have been high or epileptic."

  He smiled, raising his hands in a placating gesture. Thirty-two years old, maximum thirty-three—my brain calculated his age instantly, although I had no idea how I was doing it. No one at the hospital told me I would have to share the apartment with someone else.

  "Listen, Arkgrim," he sniffed. "You must be hungry as a wolf. I made some food here, so come to the table."

  The moment the word "food" reached my ears, it was as if a bottomless black hole opened up inside me. My stomach cramped with such a spasm that I almost howled.

  "Food..." I wheezed. "Faster."

  I bolted from my spot. In two jumps, I was at the stove where a pot stood. The smell of boiled rice hit my nostrils, driving me crazy. To hell with everything. Without waiting for plates or utensils, I shoved my hand right into the scalding hot mass.

  "Hey! What are you doing?!" the roommate yelled.

  A sharp thwack on the top of my head with a spoon made me recoil. I froze, clutching a handful of steaming rice to my chest. My mouth was stuffed full, my cheeks puffed out. I glared at him from under my brows, like a cornered animal ready to defend its prey.

  "Who eats with their hands, you idiot? You'll scald yourself!" The man looked at me with genuine bewilderment, but didn't let go of the spoon. "Are you completely feral or what?"

  I slowly chewed and swallowed. The heat of the rice, which should have burned my skin, was barely felt—only a blissful feeling of satiety.

  The roommate sighed, took the pot from me, and deftly transferred the remaining rice onto a clean plate.

  "Here, take this. And take a spoon. Eat like a human being, it hurts to watch."

  I took the plate. The metal spoon felt like a strange, uncomfortable tool to me, but I forced myself to scoop up the food little by little. The rice was simple, bland, but to me, it was better than any delicacy.

  The roommate sat opposite me, resting his chin on his fist. He carefully watched as I methodically annihilated the portion.

  "Listen, kid... you are really weird," he said quietly. "Are you alright overall? You know, in the head?"

  I froze for a second, feeling the bracelet on my wrist begin to vibrate ever so slightly again, warning of an emotional spike. Looking at his face, I just slowly nodded.

  The roommate thoughtfully drummed his fingers on the table.

  "Listen, I read in your discharge papers... Severe concussion, amnesia, and all that. Do you really not remember absolutely anything? Completely empty head?"

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  In response, I only nodded silently, intently scraping the remaining grains from the bottom. And then, without any shame, I held out the empty plate in his direction and gave him an expressive look. Like, "continue the banquet, meatbag."

  "More," I dropped concisely.

  The roommate snorted, but took the plate.

  "Alright, Arkgrim, listen here. Since we are sharing a room, we have to split the chores equally. Fair?"

  I lazily leaned back in my chair, almost tipping over with it.

  "Why are you so boring, old man?" I rolled my eyes. "We just met, and you're already being a buzzkill. What chores are you even talking about?"

  He started folding his fingers, listing them off with the look of a strict warden:

  "Laundry, cooking, cleaning. And grocery shopping."

  I lazily shifted my gaze to the ceiling, studying some crack.

  "You know what, old man..." I paused for dramatic effect. "I have a counter-proposal. Let's have me do nothing. Deal? A brilliant plan, if you ask me."

  The roommate's face contorted instantly. His eyebrows shot up somewhere near his hairline.

  "So I feed him, take him in, and you give me this... Why you little brat!"

  "Alright, alright, what are you yelling for?" I waved my hands, smirking. "I don't even know if I can cook. Maybe in my past life I was a world-class chef, or maybe my scrambled eggs explode. Do you want to test that? Same with cleaning—what if I'm allergic to dust and having a conscience? And besides..."

  I put on the most innocent and important face possible:

  "I am a temporary figure here. Just passing through from oblivion to a bright future. So be more polite to your guest, old man. The service here is a solid three out of ten."

  Clink!

  Another sharp thwack with the spoon landed on the top of my head.

  "Ow! Stop hitting me already!" I rubbed the bruised spot, pouting indignantly. "That's a cold weapon! I'll report you to child protective services! For the cruel treatment of amnesiacs!"

  "I'll show you protective services right now," the roommate grumbled, but I noticed a smile hiding in the corners of his lips. "Get up, 'guest'. At least carry your dishes to the sink before I format your memory again."

  I got up with a sigh, grabbing the plate. Alright, one-zero in favor of the old man. But I will definitely hide that spoon from him someday. Purely out of principle.

  I set the plate aside, and the "old man" immediately got down to business.

  "Listen, Arkgrim, let me at least show you the local store. So you can buy groceries yourself, instead of just annihilating them."

  I figured: well, the task isn't exactly higher math. I'll go, I won't fall apart.

  We stepped out into the hallway. The roommate immediately headed for the stairs.

  "Our elevator often doesn't work," he threw over his shoulder. "More precisely, it never works at all. So get used to walking. The tenth floor is excellent training for your calves."

  "Oh, maaaan!" I groaned. "Are you serious? Tenth floor? What are we, in the Stone Age?"

  A picture flashed in my head for a fraction of a second: I simply take a step and end up on the first floor. The space before my eyes trembled familiarly, but the bracelet on my wrist immediately beeped a warning with a red light. The recent pain echoed freshly in my memory.

  'No thanks, I'll take the stairs,' I thought, suppressing the instinct.

  We started to descend. I followed the roommate, lazily counting the steps, and involuntarily caught myself watching how he moved.

  "Listen, old man," I spoke up. "You're quite trained, I see. No shortness of breath, no wasted movements. Do you do something serious?"

  He snorted, without turning around:

  "Just this and that... I work here and there. Physical labor builds character, you know. And you, kid, what school are you from?"

  'School...' The word echoed with a dull ring in my head. I had absolutely no memory of what 'studying' was. I fished out the crumpled piece of paper they had given me at the hospital from my pocket.

  "Uhh... It says here: Arkgrim, Seventy-Second School. Where is that even?"

  The roommate thought for a second.

  "Hmm, the Seventy-Second? No idea. Probably somewhere a couple of kilometers from here. You're lucky you won't have to drag yourself across the whole city."

  As we walked, he continued to brief me on survival in the concrete jungle:

  "The main rule: no noise after ten PM. Our neighbors are high-strung, they'll start complaining immediately. Actually, it's better not to interact with them at all. The crowd here is specific, everyone is angry. This high-rise, you see, wasn't built for high society. Just a regular anthill."

  We finally descended and stepped out onto the first floor. The store turned out to be right in the same building, in a small annex. Inside, it smelled of old plastic and household chemicals.

  "Right, we're completely cleaned out at home," the 'old man' muttered, grabbing a basket. "We need milk, potatoes, rice..."

  "Oh, meat! Look, meat!" I abruptly lunged forward and literally buried my hand in the chest freezer, fishing out a hefty, icy chunk.

  The roommate let out a short laugh.

  "Hey, roll your lip back up. Meat is only if it's on your dime. It costs an arm and a leg these days."

  I looked at the price tag. Twenty dollars a kilo? This chunk was about three kilos. Total: sixty bucks. I remembered that I had five grand in greenbacks on my card, which was issued to me as a "victim." Pfft, pennies.

  "Yep, we're taking it!" I declared decisively.

  I walked up to the checkout, pulled out my black card, and casually tapped it against the terminal. A short, approving beep sounded. Done.

  The way back up to the tenth floor felt like an eternity. But the thought of steak gave me strength. At home, I raided the kitchen again, waited until the 'old man' whipped up something from the groceries, and stuffed myself so full it became hard to breathe.

  I had no strength left to argue, make sarcastic remarks, or explore the apartment. I simply crawled to my bed and collapsed onto it right in my clothes. The world around me blurred, turning into a thick, dark fog. The last thing I felt was a pleasant heaviness in my stomach and the cold metal of the bracelet, which, fortunately, kept quiet tonight.