A new window flickered into existence, its faint blue glow casting sharp shadows across the basement walls. The text was clear, unyielding, like a command carved in stone.
---
*Task:*\
*Walk 3,000 steps.*\
*Perform 10 push-ups (knee-assisted).*\
*Go up and down the stairs 5 times.*\
*Reward: Stamina recovery, passive perk unlocked.*
---
Charlie stared, his jaw slack. "Are you kidding me?" he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck where a faint itch had returned. Walk 3,000 steps? Push-ups? Stairs? His body wasn't built for this. The thought alone made his legs ache, and his mind screamed for the comfort of the couch. "Who's doing this to me?"
A voice—calm, mechanical, and distinctly not his own—answered in his head. *I am the System. You have triggered activation through sustained emotional distress, latent physical potential, and contact with the Light. Congratulations, Charles.*
Charlie blinked, his sweat-damp face twisting in confusion. "System? What the hell are you talking about? I took a shower, that's why my skin's better, not some… sci-fi nonsense!"
A faint chime rang, and a translucent screen materialized, filled with glowing text. *The System is a biomechanical augmentation framework designed to optimize your physical and mental capabilities. Your current status is suboptimal.*
"Suboptimal?" Charlie's voice rose, indignant.
*You are overweight, Charles. Your physical condition poses significant risks to your long-term survival. The System offers structured improvement to achieve optimal health and evolution. Do you accept?*
Charlie waved his hands, as if he could swat the voice away. "Hold up. I didn't sign up for this! I don't even know what you are!"
*Prior consent is not required. Your actions initiated the process. Participation is voluntary, but declining will maintain your current trajectory.*
The screen shifted, displaying a stark image: a couch buried in junk food wrappers, a gravestone looming nearby. Text followed: *Projected lifespan: 38 years. Cause of death: cardiovascular failure or mobility-related trauma. Declining the System will accelerate this outcome.*
Charlie's mouth went dry. "You're saying I'll die because I'm… fat?"
*Your condition statistically shortens your lifespan. Engaging with the System will reverse these effects and unlock your potential.*
The words hung in the air, heavy as the weight Charlie carried. He stared at the screen, its glow pulsing faintly in the dim basement. Three thousand steps felt like climbing a mountain. Push-ups were a distant memory from gym class failures. And the stairs? He'd nearly fallen just yesterday. Effort was his enemy, something to avoid at all costs.
But then he thought of the stares, the snickers, the way Katie Rogers' laughter had pierced him in the cafeteria. He thought of the fall in the factory, the Light that had burned through him, and the System's cold prediction: 38 years. A flicker of something—fear, maybe hope—stirred in his chest.
In games, Charlie never backed down. He'd platinumed every title he owned, even the brutal ones. Dark Souls had broken him a hundred times, but he'd conquered it, cursing and sweating through every death. If he could do that, maybe… maybe he could do this.
He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. "Fine," he said, his voice low but firm. "I'll try."
Charlie shuffled forward, each step hesitant but deliberate. The System's window tracked his progress, a soft chime marking each movement.
*Steps: 12/3,000*
The first few laps around the basement were manageable, but by 500, his legs burned, his breath came in ragged gasps, and sweat stung his eyes. He slumped against the wall, chest heaving. "This is stupid," he growled, glaring at the couch. Its sagging cushions beckoned, promising rest, escape.
But the memory of the Light flared in his mind, bright and unrelenting, followed by the System's blunt words: *You are fat, Charles.* If he could beat impossible bosses, he could take another step.
"I'll do it," he said, louder, as if to convince himself. He pushed off the wall and kept moving.
---
Charlie collapsed into a chair after hitting 3,000 steps, his body trembling like he'd run a marathon. His lungs burned, his shirt clung to him like a second skin, and his legs felt like they might never work again. "Why is this so hard?" he whined, tilting his head back. "System, I'm dying here!"
The screen reappeared, scrolling text across its surface:\
*Every step is a victory.*\
*Pain is the forge of progress.*\
*Failure comes only when you stop.*
Charlie squinted, wiping sweat from his eyes. "Oh, come on. Can't you give me a boost? A cheat code? Anything?"
Silence. Then his stomach growled, loud and insistent, conjuring images of leftover pizza and macaroni in the fridge. His mouth watered, and he waved at the screen. "Forget it. I'm done. If I'm gonna die at 38, so be it."
The screen froze. New text appeared, sly and pointed:\
*What if, in 40 years, games surpass your wildest dreams—graphics so real they shame today's best? What if a stronger body earned you discounts, opportunities, respect? What if transformation unlocked a life you can't imagine?*
Charlie's fatigue faded, replaced by a spark of intrigue. "Lies," he muttered, but his voice lacked conviction.
*The world values health and effort. Self-care is universally attractive. With commitment, you can reach 100% potential—a version of yourself even you cannot hate.*
Charlie's face flushed, anger mixing with doubt. "I'll never be attractive!" he shouted, pounding the chair's armrest. "This world's shallow, and I hate it!"
The System's response was calm, unyielding:\
*Attractiveness is subjective. Effort reshapes perception. Continue, and you will see.*
Charlie glared at the screen, his chest heaving. "I hate you," he growled, but he hauled himself up, legs wobbling. "Fine. Push-ups. Let's get this over with."
He lowered himself to his knees, arms trembling as he attempted the first push-up. "One… two… ugh, you suck, System… three…" He collapsed after five, panting. "Done! Task complete, right?"
*Incorrect form. None counted.*
Charlie's eyes widened. "WHAT? I DID FIVE!" he roared, his voice echoing.
A knock came from upstairs. "Charlie!" Marge called, exasperated. "Stop screaming! I don't care what game you're playing, keep it down!"
"Sorry, Mom!" he yelled back, his face burning.
The screen flickered, and an augmented reality projection appeared—a slimmer, struggling version of Charlie performing a push-up. The form was shaky but correct, knees grounded, back straight. Charlie groaned. "This is dumb. I hate this."
He tried again. The first push-up barely cleared an inch, his arms shaking violently. He collapsed, gasping. "Impossible!"
*Incorrect form will not count.*
"I KNOW!" Charlie snapped, dragging himself back into position.
---
Thirty grueling minutes later, Charlie completed ten proper knee-assisted push-ups. His arms were jelly, his body slick with sweat, and he sprawled on the floor like a beached whale. "I… hate… you… System," he wheezed.
The screen updated:\
*Progress toward 100% Potential: 0.0003%*
Charlie's jaw dropped. "HELL NO! Screw this! I'll die before I finish this!" he shouted, flinging his hands up.
*Task completion grants rewards, including monetary compensation and passive perks to accelerate progress.*
Charlie paused, his eyes narrowing. "Money? Perks?"
*Effort today builds rewards tomorrow.*
"Enough with the quotes," Charlie muttered, hauling himself up. His legs trembled as he eyed the stairs, dreading the final task.
---
The five laps up and down the stairs were torture. Each step felt like climbing a cliff, his muscles screaming, his breath ragged. By the end, he collapsed at the bottom, limbs splayed. "I need… food," he gasped.
The System chimed:\
*Tasks complete.*\
*Reward: Stamina recovery, passive perk unlocked.*\
*Pumped Perk: Excess fat burns 20% faster. At low body fat, muscle gain increases by 20%.*
Charlie blinked, stunned. "Seriously? Why not just make me thin now?"
*Instant transformation violates balance. Effort is required.*
Charlie sighed, too tired to argue. "Balance. Right."
A new task flashed:\
*Task: Shower and cleanse thoroughly (0/2 consecutive days).*\
*Reward: Improved skin clarity.*
"Oh, come on!" Charlie groaned, clutching his chest dramatically. "I'm exhausted!"
*Stamina has been restored.*
"My body still hurts!"
*That is psychological. Shower. Failure will result in disciplinary measures.*
Charlie froze. "You'll shock me or something? That's illegal!"
*Report me to the authorities, then.*
Charlie grumbled, dragging himself toward the bathroom. "Can I eat first? Please, oh mighty System?"
*No. Nutrition guidance follows the task.*
"You're controlling my food now?" Charlie's voice rose, indignant. "That's too far!"
*The meal will satisfy.*
Charlie glared at the screen, muttering curses as he shuffled to the bathroom. "This better be worth it."
---
Steam filled the cramped bathroom as Charlie scrubbed himself clean, the warm water easing his aching muscles. He stepped out, toweling off, and glanced at the mirror. His skin looked clearer, smoother, the reward from his earlier shower amplified. He waited for the System's chime, but nothing came.
"Where's my reward?" he snapped, glaring at the air.
The screen reappeared:\
*Task requires two consecutive days for reward activation.*
Charlie's eyes widened. "WHAT? I showered twice!"
*Read carefully. Two consecutive days are required.*
Charlie threw his hands up, groaning. "I hate you so much," he muttered, but deep down, a spark flickered—a stubborn, unfamiliar determination to keep going.