Dan’s mind raced, questions piling up faster than he could organize them. But he stayed silent. He wanted to experience everything for himself, not spoil things with too many preemptive details. Instead, he looked around at the faces of the others—some eager, others hesitant, but all captivated by the prospect of stepping into a world where their fate was entirely in their hands.
The large wooden doors creaked open, and the group collectively tensed, leaning forward as if about to be let into paradise. Claire motioned for them to enter. Dan found himself jostling along with the rest, heart pounding in his chest. He was ready for this—for the adventure, the danger, and everything that came with it.
Dan’s group had all finally congregated into a space so large and empty that it resembled a hangar for a commercial aircraft. Claire, at the front of the group, began to speak again. Her voice carried unnaturally in this room, even for one as large as this.
“As I stated outside, each of you has been selected for a reason,” Claire repeated, “now before we move ahead, I need you to stand on one of the numbers you see beneath your feet.”
Dan blinked, glancing down as bold numbers began to materialize, seemingly being etched by invisible hands onto the floor beneath them. There was no clear pattern to any of them, however—no logical order to how they appeared. Some were close together, others scattered randomly across the room.
He hesitated for a moment, eyeing the two closest to him: a large, blocky 12 and a sleek 28. Something pulled at him, an instinct that urged him to keep moving. As he stepped past number after number, his gaze landed on one that piqued his interest—47. Next to it stood a nervous-looking woman. He recognized her as one of the people who had given him a dirty look outside. She had caramel skin, complemented by long black hair, which she’d split into two braids and pulled over her shoulders. Her equally black eyes stared straight forward, though Dan could tell she had noticed him approaching. She was attractive, standing just a bit taller than him. He did his best to be respectful, but couldn’t help admiring her widely-curved hips.
Without another thought, he stood on 47. He wasn’t sure what it was that drew him here, the number didn’t mean anything to him. All he knew was that it felt right. The floor beneath his feet became oddly cool and solid, as if it was confirming his choice. Claire watched as the remainder of the group settled on their chosen numbers.
“Now,” she said, pacing slowly in front of them, “Most of what you receive will be the same as everyone else, including the other groups, though it will all be based on the style preferences you provided in your tests. However, each of you will also receive one additional item, one uniquely chosen to fit you. This is where that little ‘trait’ we were searching for comes in. You all have exhibited extraordinary leadership capabilities. Each for different reasons. It doesn’t matter what your trait is; what matters is that we will need people like you to aid our other residents who will surely go… astray at times. This world is near perfect, but alas, it is not. As much as we’d have liked to create a perfect world, there is one thing that we could not control in its development. You. You are all still human beings, all with flaws and personalities that will conflict. We have accounted for that. I want to assure you all, and make it very clear that we are not designating you any official positions of responsibility. Aside from your own nature and your individual item, you will start at the same level as everyone else. You will live your lives as you wish, just as we promised. Some of you may not want this gift, and may very well never lead. That’s perfectly fine. You still get your additional gift, and you’re welcome! This is all simply a precautionary procedure.”
More mumbling passed through the group for a brief moment, before Claire continued. “As for that gift—since you’ve all been determined leaders, based on different aspects of your personalities, no two of you will get the same thing. It’s designed for you—based on your skills, your instincts, and what you’ll need moving forward. Here, ladies and gentlemen, is your starting point. Get to it, wranglers!” She finished abruptly, letting the weight of her words sink in.
Dan felt his heart race in his chest, his mind buzzing with possibilities. A leader? What would he receive? Would it be a weapon, a tool, something more abstract? And how could something so unique be tailored to him when the numbers seemed random? Did they somehow know what number he’d pick? Was the number even important, or had it called to him in some way? The air around him seemed to hum with anticipation as he waited. His eyes flicked to the others, each standing on their own number, for what seemed like eternity, but what was in reality less than a few seconds.
A low rumble vibrated through the floor. Dan looked down, startled, as the ground in front of him began to shift. Slowly, a section of the floor slid open, and before he knew it a two-foot by four-foot table was rising up to meet him. The surface gleamed and on top, neatly arranged, lay an assortment of tools and weapons—each item meticulously placed, waiting for him to claim.
Dan glanced around again, seeing the same thing happen for the others. With a solid clunk the tables locked into place, leaving each person to collect their gear. No two sets of items looked alike, just as Claire had told them. Dan scanned the objects on his table, overwhelmed with joy.
The first thing that caught his eye was a finely crafted, waxed bedroll. Its forest green color stood out against the rest of the gear, rich and deep like pine needles after rain. The straps were tough, embossed leather the color of mocha, with intricate patterns etched into the surface, and the buckles gleamed like freshly polished bronze, shining in the light as though they’d been freshly polished.
He picked it up, feeling the weight and quality in his hands. The waxy surface shimmered, clearly designed to repel water and weather. Without hesitation, Dan unrolled it, checking its length. It had exactly enough space for all of the remaining gear; the pockets and straps all crafted to perfectly fit everything that lay on the table.
They really thought of everything…
Dan carefully set the bedroll, still opened, onto the floor. He reached for the first items he’d be packing, practical yet plain in appearance. A small, cast-iron pan sat near the edge of the table—solid, heavy in his hands, the kind of tool that would last a lifetime.
Practical and deadly.
Next up was a steel canteen, simple but functional, with a matching cup that fit neatly onto the bottom. Its heft surprised him at first. It was already filled with water. He sniffed at it and when he decided it was safe enough, he sipped. It was fresh. Very fresh. Taking a couple of heftier, glugging drinks Dan clicked the cup into place with a muffled snap. He slid the set neatly beside the pan, making sure it was secure.
A single set of utensils: a fork, knife, and spoon followed. Like the other necessities, they were plain but dependable, with no unnecessary flourishes; just the bare essentials. He tucked them in alongside the other items, noting the reassuring weight of the gear he was assembling.
Lastly, there were enough rations to last a week, neatly wrapped in thick paper, and a coin purse filled with various coins. He inspected the money, noting copper, silver, and just a bit of gold, the values of which he had yet to find out. There was nothing glamorous about any of these items, but that was exactly how he liked it. He was sure Lucid knew that already, having spotted much more elegant equivalents on the tables nearby.
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Those look far too valuable, thereby making you all look valuable to rob.
After securing the basics, Dan’s eyes landed on something a bit more striking. A pair of spurs gleamed in the light, their golden color catching his attention immediately. He picked them up, feeling the surprising weight in his hands. Despite their rich appearance, they were as tough as titanium, built to last. The stars of the spurs had five points, sharp and bold, not unlike the stars on the American flag. He turned them over once before tucking them into the bedroll with care.
Next, his gaze fell on his new pistol holster. The leather was the same as the straps on his bedroll, embossed with the same intricate patterns, clearly made to match. It was sturdy but elegant, crafted with precision. Dan lifted it, running his fingers over the familiar texture. This time though, instead of setting it aside, he strapped it around his waist, tightening the buckle until it fit snugly. The holster felt like it belonged there, settling against his side with a sense of purpose.
The revolvers were another sight to behold; silver and polished to perfection. Their handles were made of fine, light-colored wood, carved with intricate swirls that formed ravens on each side. The craftsmanship was beyond anything he’d expected, each curve of the carving flowing seamlessly into the next. He turned the pistols over, appreciating the balance in their weight, before sliding them carefully into the holster. These weren’t just weapons—they were art, and they fit into his growing collection as naturally as if they had always belonged to him.
FInally, Dan’s gaze shifted to the last item on the table: a beautifully bound leather journal. The cover was just as dark and smooth as anything else he was given, also with intricate embossing along the edges. A thin cord wrapped around the journal, holding it closed by a small, gold clasp shaped like a raven. The craftsmanship was as fine as anything he had ever seen. He flipped through the blank pages, half-expecting to see something, anything, that would explain its significance. But nothing. No words, no instructions. Just empty paper, thick and slightly yellowed, yet smooth as glass. Something about the journal felt alive, as if it was waiting for him to make the first move.
Instinctively, Dan looked around the table for a pen or pencil, eager to test it out, but there was nothing. He cursed as a small wave of disappointment hit him. He stared down at the open journal once more, lingering on the first page, still curious about its use. Then, just as he was about to close it up and place it within the rucksack, something strange happened: a faint shimmer crossed the surface of the paper. Dan blinked, watching as words slowly began to materialize, seemingly written by a ghost. Brief, cryptic, but undeniably clear: Lead with purpose, or others will lead you.
“Hooooly shit,” Dan exclaimed under his breath. He looked over at the table belonging to the rigid woman. Her gear’s style had a Victorian flair—polished brass buckles, leather straps, and lace trim that reminded him of another world entirely.
Huh, fascinating, he thought before deciding to break the ice.
“Can you believe this?!” He gestured his journal, then turned it over in his hands—running his fingers over the embossed leather. “I’ve been dreaming about this for months. Everything is better than I imagined. Especially the ‘move’ into this place. I really thought the transition would feel… weirder.. I guess?” He chuckled, flipping through the blank pages once more.
The woman, still nervous, surprisingly smiled. She adjusted the brim of her hat before replying.
“Yeah, they really nailed the details.” Her voice was steady, but Dan noticed a slight tremble in her hands as she opened a small, ornate compass. She had the air of someone who was just told to act natural. “It’s everything I was hoping for, I guess.”
“You don’t seem very excited.” He motioned to the group—all talking loudly, admiring their new gear. “Nervous?”
Her smile faltered, just for a moment, before she tucked the compass away into her coat. Her cheeks flushed.
“No, I’m happy. Really. It’s just…” She trailed off, adjusting the straps on her bag, avoiding the question. “Leaving everything behind… It’s a lot to process. I don’t think it’s strange to feel this way. In fact I think it’s pretty normal to find this difficult.” And with that, she sharply cut her words off in agitation.
Dan frowned, still sensing something unsaid, but recognizing that he was being impolite to a complete stranger said, “sorry, yeah, I get that. Totally…” then hastily added, “but we’re free now, right? Isn’t that what this is all about? A fresh start at something amazing?”
Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and for a brief second, her expression softened—guarded, but honest. She gazed back down at her compass, and sighed.
“Free. You’re right.” Her nerves showed once again, despite her attempt to hide them. Not wanting to pry any further, Dan pretended not to notice. When their eyes met again, she snapped the compass shut with an unsettling familiarity. As though she’d had it her entire life. Did the program give some people items they had in their previous lives? That wouldn’t be suspicious, he supposed.
“It’s beautiful,” Dan said awkwardly, pointing toward the compass, trying to keep the conversation going despite the tension. Even though Nancy was guarded, there was something about her that he really liked and he hoped he hadn’t just ruined any chance at a friendship with her.
“Thanks,” Nancy replied, forlorn, then turned back to her packing with more haste than before.
Shit.
Dan stepped back to his table and quietly secured his bedroll then strapped it to his back. Silence hung between them, leaving him deflated. He pried too much, he knew. He glanced at Nancy now and then as she packed, the weight of the moment building. Pressure built up in Dan’s chest as he wrestled with himself, debating whether he should try to fix the awkward tension that had just settled between him and Nancy. The air felt thick, and each heartbeat echoed in his ears, amplifying his uncertainty about how to bridge the gap that had formed. He knew that he was being selfish in his desire to resolve things, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that it would be in bad taste to leave their first conversation hanging in the air like this. The thought of walking away without addressing the tension gnawed at him, a reminder that connections—however fragile—were worth nurturing.
Finally, he took the shot: “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I know I can be a bit much. I just…” Nancy glanced over at him, her brow furrowing as annoyance and exasperation flashed across her face. “I get excited… and it feels good to share that with someone. And that’s selfish behavior, so… Just, I’m sorry. And I’ll leave you alone from here on out.” Dan finished by giving her an affirming nod before turning to his things, waiting to leave.
A few moments later, Nancy’s voice rasped beside him.
“God damnit, Nancy…” She turned to Dan, “Okay… No. You didn’t do anything wrong. I understand why you’re excited—anyone would be.” She paused, her gaze drifting away as if searching for the right words. “I’m just… in a different situation than most. I didn’t exactly choose to be here. This was my last option.”
“You didn’t choose to be here?” Dan’s voice softened to a near whisper. He stopped himself from prying any further, not wanting to push it. “I’m sorry it had to be that way for you. But, hey… we’re here now, and this may be too much at this point, but, if you’re open to the offer, I’d like to make it up to you with a drink. No obligation, no… anything really. But you can find me at the saloon after this is all over.” Nancy hesitated at first, then nodded wordlessly.
“Great, and don’t worry,” Dan added quickly, a small grin tugging at his lips. “I’m not trying to hit on you or anything. We can talk, or not talk; hell, you can leave right after you’re handed the glass—whatever you’re comfortable with. But if you do decide to hang back with me, I’ll just make it look like we’re together so no one else bothers you. How’s that sound?”
Nancy seemed like she wanted to say something more, but after a pause, she simply replied, “Yeah… that’d be nice. Thank you.”
“Great!” Dan said, still smiling, the tension between them easing slightly. I’m saying “great” too much… cool it. “Let’s get through this first, and then we’ll get a seat together in the far corner where, surely, no one will already be.” Nancy offered him a small, appreciative smile before turning her focus back to her pack. The weight of their earlier conversation still lingered, but the moment felt lighter now, less strained.
