He walked down a long corridor into another chamber, as nondescript as his room for the last 3 days, but a little bit bigger and empty. Quite empty?
âI was promised other humans, where are they?â
âWelcome Mike. We are pleased you have made your choice. This season we are introducing a new featureâ
âWait a minute. What do you mean by season?â
"Each assessment process is designated as a season for administrative purposes. You are participating in Season 847 of the Federation Assessment Protocol. Previous seasons have resulted in the acceptance of 4,235 species and the termination of 4,230 species."
Mike felt his stomach turn. Over eight thousand species had gone through this, and half of them were now extinct. The casual way the voice delivered these numbers made it worse somehow.
âThat sounds like a weird choice of words. Never mind, what is this feature you mentioned? â
âWell, Mike, usually participants enter the competition at level one. During the competition they may advance in levels acquiring new abilities, skills and statsâ
Mike's mind raced. Levels, abilities, skills, statsâit sounded like every video game he'd ever played. Except this time, the respawn button meant extinction for his entire species. He wondered if the aliens had studied human gaming culture or if this was just how advanced civilizations naturally organized lethal competitions. âYou have a unique opportunity. You may choose a number between 1 and 100. After you make the choice, I will randomly roll a number between 1 and 100. If that number equals or is more than the number you chose, you will enter the competition at the level equal to your number. Otherwise, you will not enter the competition at all and will be returned homeâ
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
âHome?â Mike exclaimed. âYou mean alive? Back homeâ
âThat is correctâ
Well, mike thought, this opens up a whole other avenue to getting out of this situation.
What would I choose if I wanted to compete? A number that would give me an advantage but would still leave reasonable chance for getting in? Like 20 or something? But if I choose...
âI accept the challenge and choose the number 100â
âAre you sure, Mikeâ
âYes, that is my final decisionâ
âVery well mike, let us proceedâ
A holographic display materialized in the air before him, showing two large dice made of what appeared to be condensed starlight. They rotated slowly, each face displaying numbers in a script that somehow Mike could read despite never seeing it before. His heart hammered in his chest as he watched the dice begin to spin faster, becoming blurs of light. The room filled with an ethereal humming sound that made his teeth ache. This was itâhis ticket home was riding on pure chance.
âCongratulations, Mike. The number is 100. You will enter the competition at a level of 100.
Mike stared at the display in complete shock. One hundred. He'd rolled a perfect one hundred. The odds were literally one in a hundred, and he'd hit it. His legs gave out and he sat down hard on the floor, a hysterical giggle bubbling up from his chest. Then the giggle died as, a cold realization crept in. Level 100? What did that even mean? Was he now some kind of super-human? And more importantly, why did the alien voice sound almost... surprised?
"Wait," Mike said, his voice shaky. "What does level 100 actually mean? What happens to me now?"