The First Coin

The morning after the lightning strike dawned gray and heavy, the rain reduced to a drizzle that streaked the shattered window of Jun Xi's apartment. Neo-Shanghai buzzed beyond the jagged glass—hovercars hummed through the lower districts, their engines a dull whine beneath the chatter of street vendors and the distant pulse of holographic billboards. Inside, the air smelled of wet plaster and burned circuits, the wreckage of last night still strewn across the floor. Jun Xi stood by the mattress, now a sodden lump, and surveyed the chaos with a calm that belied the storm in his mind.

1,575 Union Coins. That's what he had now, confirmed by the bank app on his phone when he'd rolled out of bed—well, off the floor, since the mattress was a lost cause. The system's 5% interest had kicked in at midnight, right on schedule, adding 75 UN to his pitiful 1,500. Small, sure, but real. Tangible. A spark he could fan into a blaze. His dark eyes glinted with something sharp as he tapped the screen, double-checking the balance. "Day one," he murmured, his voice low and steady. "Let's make it count."

He'd barely slept—maybe an hour, sprawled on the dry patch near the mini-fridge—but he didn't feel it. His mind hummed, electric, the 100x learning boost churning through last night's crypto research like a machine on overdrive. Volatile coins, market spikes, trading patterns—they'd clicked into place, a puzzle he'd solved before dawn. He'd picked his target: NebulaCoin, a new token hyped on forums for its wild swings. Risky as hell, but with 1,575 UN and five days to hit 10,000, he needed a win fast.

Jun Xi grabbed his phone and a hoodie—damp but wearable—and stepped over the glass to the tiny kitchenette. The counter was bare except for a half-empty bag of instant noodles and a chipped mug. He filled the mug with water from the sink, set it to boil on a portable burner, and leaned against the wall, scrolling the crypto exchange. NebulaCoin sat at 0.03 UN per coin, up 10% overnight. "Cheap enough to stack," he muttered, running the numbers in his head. "Buy in now, flip it by tonight if it jumps." With 1,575 UN, he could grab 52,500 coins. A 50% spike would net him 2,362 UN by evening. Not enough alone, but with interest stacking daily, it'd snowball.

The water hissed, steam curling into the damp air, and he dumped the noodles in, stirring with a plastic fork. His stomach growled—he hadn't eaten since yesterday's shift—but food was secondary. The system pulsed in his mind, a silent partner, and he tested it again, curiosity tugging at him. "System, what's my mission status?"

"Mission: Reach 10,000 UN in 5 days. Current funds: 1,575 UN. Time remaining: 4 days, 13 hours. Progress: 15.75%."

He smirked, twirling the fork. "Detailed. Good. Any penalties if I miss it?"

"No penalties. Missions are incentives. Failure delays rewards."

"Smart design," he said, half to himself. "No pressure, just upside. Did I code that, or did you evolve it?" He didn't expect an answer—not a deep one—but he liked prodding it, feeling out its edges.

"Your foundation, my refinement. Focus on the mission."

"Bossy," he chuckled, but he let it drop. The noodles were ready, a soggy mess he shoveled down in minutes, barely tasting them. Energy, not flavor, was the point. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and pulled up the exchange again. Fingers steady, he tapped in the order: 1,500 UN for 50,000 NebulaCoins, leaving 75 UN as a buffer. The transaction cleared instantly, his balance dropping to 75 UN, the coins now his. "Step one," he said, pocketing the phone. "Now we wait."

He couldn't sit still—not with this buzzing in his veins—so he grabbed his sneakers, still damp, and headed out. The hallway smelled of mildew, the flickering lights casting shadows on the graffiti-scarred walls. Downstairs, the street was alive: vendors hawked dumplings under tarps, kids darted through puddles, a drone whirred overhead delivering packages to the high-rises. Jun Xi pulled his hood up and walked, his pace deliberate, toward the tech repair shop three blocks over. The PC was toast, but he needed it fixed—or replaced. The system was in his head, sure, but he'd need hardware to scale.

The shop was a narrow storefront wedged between a noodle stall and a pawn broker, its sign buzzing faintly: TechFix. Inside, the air was warm, thick with the smell of solder and coffee. A woman stood behind the counter, dark hair tied back, sharp eyes flicking over a disassembled tablet. She glanced up as he entered, her expression cool but curious. "You look like you got hit by a storm," she said, nodding at his damp hoodie.

Jun Xi flashed a small, easy grin, leaning on the counter. "Something like that. Name's Jun Xi. Got a PC that took a lightning bolt last night—think you can save it?"

She raised an eyebrow, setting the tablet down. "Lightning? You're lucky you're not fried too." She stepped around the counter, revealing a slim frame in a worn jumpsuit, tools clipped to her belt. "I'm Lina. Let's see the corpse."

He liked her already—sharp, no nonsense, with a spark he could work with. "Left it at home," he said, keeping his tone light. "Power supply's burned out, screen's dead. Worth fixing, or should I start fresh?"

"Bring it in, I'll tell you," she said, crossing her arms. "But if it's as bad as you say, you're better off with a new rig. What were you running—crypto mining?"

"Something like that," he replied, his grin widening. "Let's just say I'm into… high-risk projects. You good with more than repairs, Lina?"

She tilted her head, studying him. "Depends. You offering a job, or just flirting?"

"Both, if you're up for it," he said smoothly. "I'm starting something big. Could use someone smart—someone who doesn't waste time."

Her lips twitched, almost a smile. "Bold for a guy with a dead PC and wet shoes. What's the pitch?"

"Not here," he said, nodding at the shop. "Dinner tomorrow? I'll lay it out. My treat."

She hesitated, then shrugged. "Only if you've got cash to back up that confidence. Bring the PC by later—I'll check it out."

"Deal," he said, pushing off the counter. "See you soon, Lina." He left with a nod, her gaze lingering on his back, and stepped into the drizzle feeling lighter than he should've.

Back at the apartment, he checked the exchange at 6 PM. NebulaCoin had jumped—0.045 UN per coin, a 50% spike. His 50,000 coins were worth 2,250 UN. He sold instantly, the funds hitting his account: 2,325 UN after fees. A quiet laugh escaped him, his pulse steady despite the win. "Day one, and I'm already ahead." Midnight would add 5%—116 UN—pushing him to 2,441 UN. Four days left, and he was rolling.

He leaned against the wall, rain tapping the floor, and let the system hum in his mind. Lina's face flashed there too—sharp, useful, maybe more. "One coin down," he murmured, smirking. "Time to stack the rest."