"Fill it. Premium. And don't spill a drop, This is a custom paint job. If I see a smudge, you're buying me a new car."
"Yes, sir," Leo said, his voice calm. He was used to this.
Leo had a unique survival mechanism: stoicism. When the world threw chaos at him he just went blank. It was the only way to keep his blood pressure from exploding. He reached for the nozzle, moving with practiced care.
He uncapped the tank. He inserted the nozzle. He squeezed the handle. Perfect execution.
Leo allowed himself a tiny, internal sigh of relief. Maybe today wouldn't be a disaster. Maybe the curse of his bad luck was taking a lunch break.
"Hey! HEY!"
The man in the car had thrown his door open, nearly hitting Leo's leg. He scrambled out, his face turning a shade of red that clashed with his expensive tie.
"What do you think you're doing?" the man screamed, pointing a shaking finger at the side of the car.
Leo looked. The nozzle was still in the tank, perfectly secure. There wasn't a drop of gasoline anywhere. "Sir? I'm just filling the—"
"You scratched it! I heard it! I heard the metal scrape!" The man was hysterical. He rushed over, shoving Leo aside with surprising strength. He put his face inches from the fuel door, squinting at a microscopic blemish that looked suspiciously like a piece of dried dust.
"Look at this! You incompetent little—! Do you know who I am?"
Other customers were starting to look. A lady at Pump 2 paused her refueling. A trucker at the back turned his head.
"Sir," Leo said, keeping his face impassive, though his stomach was doing backflips. "I didn't touch the paint. The nozzle has a rubber guard. That mark was probably already—"
"Already there? Already there?!" The man looked like he was about to pop a vein. He turned to the audience of bystanders, throwing his hands up in a classic display of entitled outrage. "Did you hear him? He damages my property and then calls me a liar! This is unbelievable! This is exactly what's wrong with service workers these days. No pride! No accountability!"
Leo stood there, holding the nozzle like a lifeline. He didn't argue. Arguing with gravity doesn't make things fall up, and arguing with a man like this wouldn't change the script.
"I want the manager!" the man roared, spitting slightly. "Now!"
As if summoned by a dark ritual, the glass doors of the convenience store slid open. Manager Dave waddled out. Dave was a man who hated two things: paperwork and conflict. Unfortunately for Leo, he usually solved conflict by creating paperwork for Leo.
"What's the problem here?" Dave asked, wiping sweat from his forehead.
"This kid destroyed my car!" The man pointed at Leo. "He slammed the nozzle into the side! I want compensation, and I want him gone!"
"Leo," Dave sighed, looking at his shoes. "Is this true?"
"No, Dave. I was careful. The rubber guard—"
"Save it," Dave cut him off. He looked tired. "Look, Leo. Yesterday you dropped a crate of soda. The day before, you accidentally locked the keys in the office. You're a good kid, but... you're a liability. You're bad luck."
The man in the suit smirked, crossing his arms triumphantly. "Exactly. A liability."
Leo felt a cold weight settle in his chest. "Dave, come on. That's dust. Just wipe it off."
"I can't take the risk, Leo," Dave said, refusing to make eye contact. "Give me your vest. You're done."
The man in the suit let out a huff of satisfaction, got back into his car, and slammed the door. He didn't even buy gas. He just drove off, tires screeching, leaving Leo standing there holding a plastic vest in his hand.
Leo lived in a part of the city where the streetlights flickered and the potholes had their own ecosystems. He walked with his hands in his pockets, head down, kicking a small stone along the sidewalk.
"Fired for a dust speck," he muttered to the pavement. "New record."
It wasn't that he was clumsy on purpose. It was just that entropy seemed to accelerate whenever he was nearby. If there was a one percent chance of a glass breaking, it broke. If there was a slight chance of rain, he'd get soaked.
He reached his apartment building. He climbed the three flights of stairs because the elevator had been "Out of Order" since 1998.
He unlocked his door and stepped inside.
The apartment was a studio, which was a polite way of saying his bedroom was also his kitchen and his living room. A single mattress lay on the floor in the corner. A wobbly table held his laptop.
Leo walked over to the fridge. He was starving. He hadn't eaten since breakfast, which had been a piece of dry toast.
He pulled the handle. The light inside didn't turn on.
"No," Leo whispered.
He touched the milk carton. Warm. He touched the package of cheap ham. Warm.
"The compressor," he groaned, leaning his forehead against the warm metal of the fridge door. "It finally died."
He slumped down onto the floor, pulling his phone out of his pocket. The screen was a spiderweb of cracks another casualty of his luck from last week. He tapped the banking app.
Balance: $120.45
He did the math in his head. Rent was due in three days. That was $400. A used fridge compressor or a repair guy would cost at least $100. Food for the week was another $50.
"I can fix the fridge, buy food, or pay a quarter of the rent," Leo said to the empty room. "Pick one."
He closed his eyes, tilting his head back against the cabinets. It was suffocating. He tried so hard. He showed up on time. He was polite. He worked double shifts. And for what? To be humiliated by a guy in a suit and defeated by a broken appliance.
"I just want a break," he whispered. "Just one tiny break."
As if the universe was finally listening, or perhaps because the universe had decided to play a new, stranger joke on him, a sound echoed in his head.
Ding!
Leo opened his eyes. He looked around. "Hello?"
A semi-transparent blue panel floated in the air, right in front of his face.
< Welcome, Host! >
< The Property Editor System has been activated! >
Leo blinked. He rubbed his eyes. He slapped his own cheek, hard. Ouch.
The blue screen was still there.
"I finally snapped," Leo muttered. "The stress broke my brain. I'm having a hallucination."
< You are not hallucinating, Host. >
The text scrolled across the blue screen as a pleasant, gender-neutral mechanical voice narrated it in his mind.
< System Level: 1 >
< Ability Unlocked: Basic Property Modification >
< Scope: Simple Technological Objects >
< Energy: 10/10 >
Leo stared. He reached out a trembling hand to touch the screen. His fingers passed right through it, causing ripples like water.
"Property Editor?" Leo asked, his voice shaking. "What does that even mean?"
< It means you can view and alter the fundamental properties of objects within your current authority level. Would you like a tutorial? >
Leo looked at his warm, broken fridge. He looked at his cracked phone. He looked at the $120 balance burning a hole in his mind. If he was crazy, he might as well enjoy the ride.
"Sure," Leo said, standing up. "Show me."
< Please focus your attention on a simple electronic device. >
Leo looked down at his phone. It was an old model, sluggish and battered. As he focused on it, a new, smaller window popped up next to the device, tethered to it by a thin line of light.
[ Object: Smart Phone (Old) ]
- Condition: Damaged
- Battery Life: 2 hours
- Processing Speed: Low
- Screen Integrity: 15%
It was like looking at the stats sheet of a character in a video game, but for his phone.
< Try to interact with the Screen Integrity property. >
Leo hesitated. He imagined reaching out with his mind, trying to "grab" the text that said 15%. To his shock, the number highlighted. A mental slider appeared in his vision.
< Use your will to increase the value. >
Leo focused. He thought about the screen being whole. He thought about the glass fusing back together. He pushed the mental slider up.
15%... 50%... 80%... 100%.
< Modification Cost: 2 Energy Points. Confirm? >
"Confirm," Leo breathed.
A soft hum filled the room. A flash of white light enveloped his hand.
Leo gasped and nearly dropped the phone. When the light faded, he stared.
The spiderweb cracks were gone. The glass was pristine, smooth, and gleaming as if it had just come out of the factory box. There wasn't a scratch on it.
"No way," Leo whispered. He ran his thumb over the glass. It was cool and perfect.
He looked back at the floating blue screen.
[ Object: Smart Phone (Old) ]
- Condition: Good
- Battery Life: 2 hours
- Processing Speed: Low
- Screen Integrity: 100%
This was real. He had just fixed his phone with a thought.
He turned his head slowly toward the broken fridge.
He focused on the fridge.
[ Object: Refrigerator (Budget Model) ]
- Cooling Efficiency: 0% (Broken Compressor)
- Energy Consumption: High
- Noise Level: Loud
Leo's eyes narrowed.
"Cooling Efficiency," he muttered. "Let's crank that up."
He mentally grabbed the 0% and shoved the slider.
0%... 50%... 100%.
< Modification Cost: 5 Energy Points. Confirm? >
"Confirm."
The fridge shuddered. A moment later, the distinct sound of the cooling fan engaged. Leo pulled the door open.
A blast of cold air hit his face. Leo stood in the middle of his shabby apartment, his fixed phone in one hand, the cold air of the fixed fridge cooling his ankles.
He checked his status.
< Energy: 3/10 >
Then, a thought occurred to him. He looked at his phone again. He looked at the "Processing Speed" property which was currently set to "Low."
If he could fix things... could he also improve them? Could he take a piece of junk and turn it into gold?
He walked over to his laptop a heavy, slow brick from five years ago. He sat down, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.
"System," Leo said, his voice steady for the first time all day. "Let's see what else we can edit."