Despite its reputation, GigaGig?(by MegaTech?) seemed, upon first glance, no different to me than any other modern application. My finger was pricked, my retina was scanned, and I provided "emotional collateral" as an anti-fraud measure, as was the custom.

  Other than a few UI hiccups, like the annoying gnat-like pop-ups which buzzed insistently with messages like "YOUR DESTINY HAS BEGUN," there was little at that point to suggest that anything outside of the ordinary was happening.

  In fact, I find some comfort now, in the retelling, in realizing there was absolutely no earthly way I could've anticipated what was coming.

  GigaGig seemed to me despite its popularity and the numerous reviewers claiming it "animated their very existence" or "literally made them who they were," almost uncannily mundane.

  Now, perhaps this was because of my reluctance to sign up for the Premium Tier.

  But my frugal mind, ever attuned to a scheme, saw no reason I couldn't get everything I needed from the Basic free trial. Their differences, as I understood them, were minimal at best:

  PREMIUM: (25 CREDITS PER CYCLE (billed at quantum-random intervals))

  - Full Narrative Immersion

  - Fulfill the Promise of the Premise? and follow fate's strange cosmic unraveling

  - MegaBrand? Plot Armor

  - Unlimited Access to PREMIUM gigs ranked by satirical potential

  - GigaGig? Guaranteed Complete Emotional Arc

  BASIC ("FREE")

  - Trade your body and soul in exchange for capital

  - Social Networking feature (BETA)

  Oftentimes, these services will tack on these fancy sounding bells and whistles to try and make you think you need more than you do. I was a simple guy, and all I really needed was a job.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  I smashed the "REFUSE THE CALL" button repeatedly, fighting my way through innumerable pop-ups that asked "ARE YOU SURE?" before the app finally registered my decision.

  My device's whirring gave way to a disappointed thud. The rising orchestral music that had been blaring a second before cut out in an anticlimactic screech. I entered the Basic Tier.

  **

  The first step was to fill out my profile.

  I flew into this with little hesitation, some unspoken part of me perhaps eager for the opportunity that lay before me; flinching not one bit at the litany of complicated psychological tests I was asked to complete or the bizarre, simulated work environment I was asked to attend a dayslong orientation inside of.

  I did raise a small stink, however, when the tote bag and pen I’d received turned out to not port over to the physical realm.

  This did not, however, seem to negatively impact my Employability Score?, as, just seconds after completing my profile, I was bombarded with dozens of job opportunities throughout the cosmos.

  Now, it’s possible that this is due to the fact that, if one were to scrutinize the claims made in my profile about my experience, they’d find some discrepancies between what I had said I’d done, and what some eggheads like to call "objective reality."

  This, I was sure, would be a minor detail.

  I mean, I certainly knew what Quantum Mechanics was, having, like anyone else, plenty of experience with the many applications of it that were seamlessly integrated into our daily lives.

  How much harder could any of this be than navigating the strange waters of Quantum Entanglement in the dating world, or the time I was tasked with taking care of Schr?dinger’s cat? (An unfortunate incident whose outcome, I maintain, is still shrouded in uncertainty)

  I scrolled through the opportunities, allowing myself to daydream as I did, imagining what it would be like to embark on the adventure of taking one of these jobs in some unfamiliar corner of a Galaxy I’d never been to.

  The notion of simply picking up and trying something radically new was fun to consider: Cosmic Microwave Background Singer, a bartending gig on the M?bius Strip, canvassing for an organization against Dark Matter in politics.

  **

  I longed to be the kind of person who could leave behind everything for something entirely unfamiliar. But every time I’d get close, something would hold me back.

  What if, I’d reason with myself, I just eased into it. Took this feeling in my chest and channeled it into something more practical.

  I knew the version of myself I wanted to be. I also knew who I was.

  So, I filtered by 'Least Likely to Involve Time Paradoxes' and suppressed my ambition.

  In retrospect, sometimes, I wonder what could have been. What would life be like right now, had I not taken the safe route back then? Who knows. There’s a certain irony to it, a strange, closed loop of logic.

  Had I not been so cautious in those days—had I instead been the person I am now, a person hardened by years of strange adventures I never asked for—I probably would’ve taken some other, riskier gig.

  And if I had never taken the gig I wound up taking, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. It being the catalyst for so many of the unbelievable events which came to pass.

  Maybe it was fate, maybe it was that many of the other links did not seem to work.

  It’s hard to know sometimes the difference between cosmically ordained and algorithmically manipulated, but I do know this: forces far beyond my comprehension conspired in that moment to have me settle on a gig.

  A safe gig. A dependable gig. The kind of gig where the odds of me going out in some sort of triumphant blaze of glory in one last “screw you” to all those who doubted me were next to none.

  MegaTech? Headquarters needed a maintenance man, and I was going to pretend to be qualified to be him.