It is time to save the world again.
I am an investigator, cold and aloof, investigating the death of a citizen on our small little worldship. Their eyes have sunken into black sockets, and their expression is cold and miserable. It was just another game in the daily list of games the whole ship participated in. First person shooters, random physical activities. Everyone does them, every day. The person was "Shot" during a game and died for real and in a most unusual manner.
I am the only investigator on the ship. I ask questions. I discover that there are others who have died like this in the past. People forget quickly, too quickly. I discover that their energy has just been.. drained out of them, and this is the result. Their spiritual energy, or their "soul". People try to prevent me from learning more, things turn violent.
I am forced to kill someone attacking me in self-defense, and upon death they scream and vaporize, then respawn way back in their own home. Just like if we were playing a game. There's no boundary between our real lives and the games. It's all the same thing, I discover. The game is on, always. Why?
The ship is using our spiritual energy to power itself. The games are its way of harvesting us. Death, excitement, charges our energy, allows it to be harvested. Dying when you have energy left just lets the ship respawn you. But sometimes you have no energy left.
They're everywhere. Corpses, walking. Empty eye sockets. People ignore them. They're guided to ignore them. What happens, then, when you run out of energy, but you're not killed? When you just keep on living without your soul anymore?
You become an empty, cold shell. An investigator.
I pull the trigger on myself.
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