Alpha Fluid

A cup of coffee to start a fresh morning — that was a luxury reserved for people with office jobs. I'd landed in prison over one botched game update and couldn't even buy a McMuffin. Coffee was the last thing on the table.

"...Forget it."

Seven a.m. Outside, an AI sparrow would have been chirping beyond a holographic window right about now. I'd been hunched over the workbench since the small hours, and now I held the finished product in my hands, sunk in something close to rapture.

"Could you keep it down? I'd like to enjoy the fact that I actually made something myself for a little longer."

I shut Crazy Clock up and stared, dazed, at the substance glittering inside the flask under the workbench's incandescent bulb. It looked like a fruit cocktail — a riot of colors I had no business producing with my current tech, capital, or materials.

Completing Crazy Clock's previous Primary Objective had unlocked a higher-rank crafting recipe, though, and I'd managed, just barely, to brew it from the ingredients I'd gotten for free at Vladimir Borshch's shop. If this technique ever got out, the materials I'd planned to buy cheap would rocket into the stratosphere. But EFD's main story hadn't even started yet. Nobody knew what this was worth. Nobody knew the source technology. I alone would reap the full benefit.

Pleasure without responsibility. A monopoly without competition. I was starting to understand why megacorps that held certain technologies clenched their teeth and wiped out every rival they could find.

"Yeah, thanks. Without you, making this would've been impossible."

Commonly known as Alpha Fluid.

This bizarre liquid was the first item in the Fluid Series — a line of consumables that permanently enhanced a user's physical capabilities, once and only once. In EFD, it was typically a crafting item that veteran-tier players unlocked through quests, and everything after it demanded even harder quests and rarer materials. Naturally, the ingredients for even this first drug were rare as hell. I'd only managed the synthesis with Crazy Clock's help.

A reward like this really was worth risking my life for.

The Fluid ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Series changed how you played from the outset, depending on which physical faculty you chose to boost. Picking an off-meta stat first didn't turn you into a ruined character, though. Keep playing long enough and you'd naturally get your hands on Beta, Gamma, Delta, and Omega Fluid, for a total of five permanent upgrades. There were only five faculties you could enhance to begin with, so anyone who put in the time to unlock the full series ended up with the same set of bonuses. That kind of balancing only worked because EFD was a cooperation-based game, not a PvP slugfest.

"I know."

I turned that over for a moment. Strength and Reflexes were already more than enough. Cardiopulmonary Endurance wasn't bad either. This body was excellent to begin with; with the right gear and consumables, I could cover those without breaking a sweat.

Which narrows it to Cognition and Sixth Sense…

The veterans who first unlocked the Fluid Series in EFD usually went for Strength and Cardiopulmonary Endurance. Those were the intuitive picks — they juiced the character's raw performance and paid off in farming, combat, and extraction alike.

"I've decided."

The hesitation didn't last. After ten years in EFD, I didn't need to think about which faculty would help me most right now.

"I enhance Sixth Sense."

"Honestly, I'd rather boost Cognition. I can cover that well enough as I am, though, so it can wait. Sixth Sense is a straight loss the later you unlock it."

Cognition Enhancement, put simply, sharpened your eyes and ears. You saw better in the dark. You picked up faint sounds from farther away. You collected more environmental information than whoever you were up against, which made it the optimal stealth build. I still put Sixth Sense ahead of it, and the reason was simple.

Sixth Sense intervenes in random encounters in real time and changes the outcome.

In game terms, it meant better loot, more of it, and more often when you farmed. It also installed a built-in alarm — a random ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠chance to notice enemy aggro you hadn't clocked, or an approach you hadn't seen coming. Players who boosted Sixth Sense from the start walked away from the same farms with a little more than everyone else, and they lived longer because they spotted threats early. That was why the later you enhanced it, the more you left on the table.

"A real man takes it in one shot!"

I didn't give myself another second to hesitate. I tipped the bizarre, many-colored liquid down my throat in a single swallow. Sweet at first, then bitter, then sour, and finally a taste so hideous I had no name for it — it put my taste buds on the rack. Only for a moment. The Alpha Fluid hit my stomach, vanished into my bloodstream, and sharpened my Sixth Sense as if it had been waiting for the invitation.

No status window popped up to announce the change. I just… felt it. There were no side effects, either. The Fluid Series had always been a one-click, one-and-done enhancement. The EFD developers were not the kind of idiots who slapped a nerf patch on players for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠having too easy a time in a PvE game.

"Boss, we oughta head to chow."

"The other cells are already up and moving."

"If we're late, we'll have to wait."

My cellmates called from beyond the curtain around my personal workbench. I shoved my things into a rough kind of order and stepped out. Nobody knew what I'd been doing in here, or what I'd used to do it. Even if some rat had snuck into the cell, there was nothing useful to find.

I walked with my cellmates to the communal cafeteria, same as any other morning, sat down at a table, and was in the middle of a jaw-cracking yawn when a voice slammed into my eardrums.

The speakers hadn't made a sound in two weeks. Their sudden bellow brought every convict's head up from his tray. Not an AI voice, either — a real human running the broadcast. Had some major holiday snuck up on me? Christmas, maybe?

Come to think of it, I don't even know what season it is.

It hadn't been that cold during the trial, so spring or autumn. Not that it mattered. Outside was nothing but smog; there was no way to tell the time of year even if you'd wanted to. While I was turning that over, the man on the other side of the speaker pressed on, unhurried.

A bad feeling hit me all at once. Was this how it felt when Thanos snapped his fingers to wipe out half the universe?

"The hell is he talking about?"

"They're pinning it on us again?"

"Do these government bastards even have a conscience?"

"They were happy enough to take our money when it suited them…!"

"No wonder the guards have been acting cagey lately."

"They've been stingy about sending us to the General Duty posts we wanted. Don't tell me this is why. Shit."

I wasn't the only one who'd gone cold. Hundreds of convicts packed into the wide cafeteria started muttering among themselves, watching one another out of the corners of their eyes.

A bomb, dropped into the middle of the convict population with no time to brace. The blast radius was enormous. A beat of silence — and then a backlash so violent it was nearly a riot.

"Hey, you sons of bitches! You can't just do that!"

"If you suddenly cut General Duty slots, what the hell are honest convicts like us supposed to live on?!"

"Protection money, living expenses, Human Rights Guarantee Period extensions — you know how much we have to cover, you bastards?!"

"You think we're doing this because we like it?!"

Anyone listening would have thought the prison was force-marching every last one of them into Special Duty. All they'd announced was a policy to shrink General Duty participation and raise Special Duty's share, and this was the result.

Is the story about to start?

I chewed a mouthful of well-grilled bulgogi and looked around. Some convicts were taking the sudden change in stride, the way I was. Others were raging as hard as the rest of the hall. I already knew how this scene ended, though.

Before long, except for a handful of petty criminals lucky enough to walk free, the vast majority of violent offenders with any real time left on their sentences would be converted to death row. The prison would pile on restrictions and squeeze General Duty until it couldn't keep anyone alive, and every convict would be herded, half by force, into Special Duty. Give it a little longer and they would start throwing every inmate into the Darkzone whether they volunteered or not.

That's where EFD's story actually begins.

I'd figured we were getting close. I hadn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠expected it to move this fast. Had I kicked off some kind of butterfly effect? Or had my dropping into this world been a trigger all by itself? Either way, it was good news for me. For most of the men in this room, it was a thunderbolt out of a clear sky.

The backlash climbed another notch. For a second I genuinely wondered if a riot was about to break. Then the security robots rolled in with the heavily armed guards, and the noise folded in on itself. In front of firearms, everyone was equally a tame little lamb.

The escape bonus had been one of the carrots they dangled to keep players hungry, back before Primary Objectives were added in earnest. Through the beta, EFD had no separate main objectives, so they encouraged Darkzone runs by paying extra for a successful extraction. Later that system mutated into the quests they called Primary Objectives — the wellspring of every miserable slog the convicts would grind through down there.

Would you roll off that cliff, or claw and scrape until you made it back to society? A meaningless question hammered against every eardrum in the room. They had not the slightest intention of letting anyone return.

The darkness of the Darkzone had drawn a step closer.

But I wasn't afraid.

I was a Prisoner, after all.