Monolith World 12

He regained consciousness in an unknown location. His room was bright. This was the reason he immediately knew he was not in his room, and most likely not even on Earth. His room would typically be filled with a disproportionate amount of darkness. Although it was bright, it wasn't painful on his visuals. In fact, it was quite pleasant. The warm lighting gently raised him from his slumber. He opened his eyes to observe his surroundings. The ceiling was white popcorn. He sat up with the aid of one arm and looked straight forward. The walls were shiplap with planks of alternating color. Dark, then light, then dark again. Although it looked fancy, he knew the room must've been a cheap one. He knew this because of multiple reasons. One. In the midst of the sunlight, a copious amount of dust floated freely. Two. He could hear commotion from outside the walls, which meant they were thin. Three. The shiplap was made with a cheap-looking wood. It was most likely flimsy as well, given how much sound was pa.s.sing through. And four. The contents of the conversations outside.

"You dropped out of EI Multiversity? No wonder you ended up sleeping in this place."

"Yeah, I'm going to try to sell some stuff and try to get the h.e.l.l off this planet. There's nothing left for me to learn here."

"As expected..."

That was all the information he needed for now.

*EI Multiversity? Planet?*

With the name of a school that didn't exist and the quality of travel that even relatively poor people could experience, he confirmed not only was he not on Earth, but in a more technologically advanced society as well.

*New world, same me. No time to lose.*

He was fairly certain that his current societal and economic situation were not great at the moment. So the first thing to do was obvious. Step one. Get out of the rut. He didn't know what kind of economy waited for him outside, but he was confident enough in his intelligence to climb up out of the darkness.

*Since they have schools here, there's probably at least some sort of merit-based system. Getting money won't be a problem.*

With that, he climbed out of bed to head for the bathroom. Each one of his steps was deliberate. He knew he was in a bad situation, yet he still exuded confidence.

He approached and pulled open the wooden door that had sat ajar and walked inside. He closed the door behind him. The instant the door clicked shut, he sensed something strange. It was a sensation he had never felt before on Earth. He didn't know how to describe it, but he felt like he had severed all connections with the outside world. He observed the bathroom. It looked surprisingly ordinary. There were no windows, so it was a bit dark with the lights off. There was an ordinary light switch on the wall. The n.o.ble gas light on the ceiling flickered to life. He was impressed at the color the light burned. It was lavender blue, but nearly clear.

*A xenon light, huh?*

Despite this unusual light, the tiles and mortar along the walls and floor looked identical to those on Earth. There was a porcelain toilet and a laminated clay bathtub with a bra.s.s shower head. There were two fresh white towels on the rack on the wall. This was also when he noticed a handwritten letter on the wooden counter near the bra.s.s sink. He ignored the strange sensation of isolation for the time being and focused on the letter. It was folded neatly in thirds. The outside cover read,

"For you, our last hope."

He thought nothing of the plea. He lived for only himself. He wasn't going to be someone's hero. Time used on others was time lost to improve himself. Yet he unfolded the paper and continued to read regardless. It was the first text he had seen today, and it was possibly a source of information.

"You may have noticed the anti-divination in this room. No one can track you here. Remember this sensation and master it. For you must survive. And win. For the Nines. -Isaac."

*The Nines? Who are they? ...Who am I?*

At that moment, he came to know something crucial. He had lost most of his memories.

*I'm their last hope, so apparently I'm a member of the Nines.*

He didn't remember his name. He didn't even remember most things. But the word "win" triggered the only memory he probably had. It was the name and face of a pale skinned boy his age with dark hair and green eyes.

*If there's someone I need to win against, there's only one person who could even be a challenge.*

Even though he was in a new world with no memories, it seemed like his objective hadn't changed in the slightest.

But he still needed a name. Without an identifier in society, it became very easy to get lost in the crowd.

*There's a perfect name for a situation like this.*

He didn't remember his old name, but that didn't really matter. He had hardly changed despite the world being so different, and that's what really mattered.

"I'll call myself... Iota."

Iota. The ninth letter of the Greek alphabet, and also the smallest. A word that shared its definition with its relative size in the alphabet. Wasn't that ridiculous? But even with newfound information about being an alleged member of the nines, losing most of his memories, and crossing into a completely different world, he merely underwent...

An *iota of change.*