To Be God - MIRAI SMP ORIGINAL REWRITE

Chapter one

-------2015.

𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐃 past two in the morning by the time Alec is finally dismissed, and the bags under his eyes have never felt heavier. As per his usual routine when he finishes work, he slides his laptop inside his drawer compartment and stacks all his files neatly on the corner of his desk. He shoves an empty sandwich container and a couple documents inside his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. Without a single word he leaves the room.

Working for hitmen in the organized crime syndicate wasn't as exciting as Alec Satchwell had initially expected. On the surface it sounds awesome — I mean, working for hitmen? That's any diehard action lover's dream. But the reality is it couldn't be more boring. Hacking into government feeds? Handling dodgy cash? Filing countless documents? Yawn. He was less John Wick and more Mr Intern.

So Alec's life is what anyone would describe as the epitome of repetition. Day after day of the same old, same old; copied-and-pasted like a plagiarized essay. Over the years, Alec's found himself in a space of mind where he doesn't enjoy living but he doesn't necessarily have a desire to die either. Eventually he settled on the obvious conclusion — that he's simply only existing.

Staying alive, and he does this by doing the bare minimum any human needs to do to not die. He works a well-paying job, gets good money, uses that good money to eat decent meals and fill up his car and pay the bills. Work, taxes, eat, sleep, repeat. Granted, many have it a lot worse than Alec. Some people can barely afford food. Some people's wardrobes might only consist of second-hand clothes from charity donations. But regardless of class, the bare minimum doesn't change. Whether you live in a mansion or a tiny apartment you still need to work, pay taxes, and eat.

But of course, Alec finds that if most of society actually lived by the bare minimum like he did, they wouldn't make it as far as he has. Eventually, most people would get sick of that kind of lifestyle — who wouldn't? The bare minimum is a lonely commitment. So to distract people from the monotony of it they make friends. They go clubbing at night. Go out for lunch with family. They join a football club or take piano lessons or go traveling. Things that make life more bearable. Things that Alec has never felt the need to do.

Click! The door to the now-empty office space locks with ease when he twists the key in. Walking towards the elevator at the other end of the hall, he finds his thoughts elicit a sneer from himself: 'Make friends.'

He's gone 24 years without making a single one. He has gotten close, though. Once, a couple years ago, an old colleague used to sit with him during his half hour lunch break. Every day they exchanged useless small talk with one another to pass time. This went on for about a week until he suddenly disappeared. No one said anything about it, so given their situation Alec naturally assumed the worst — that he was killed. He doesn't remember his name, nor what they both talked about, but their last conversation together was something he never forgot.

"Lighten up for once in a while, Alec," the guy had said. "You know what you remind me of sometimes? A machine. It's like you're programmed to do a single objective and that's all you work yourself to do. Just like a machine."

The man said this with a mouth half-full of chicken ceasar and a grin wider than a split watermelon. He was probably joking, and whether or not he was, he meant it in nothing more than in a light hearted way. But for some reason those words had glued itself to the back of Alec's mind for ages. And since then, it's always been a vivid memory he can recall easily, down to its very details.

It's probably so well written in his head because that day marked the first and last time anybody's ever described Alec in the best way he could imagine. A machine; programmed to complete one objective. The bare minimum. It couldn't have been a more accurate synopsis of his mindset.