Re-Roll

Mark rushed into his still dark apartment, tripping and falling over something in the darkness with a loud crash. He groaned as he picked himself up, feeling his way over to a light switch to flip it on. His apartment revealed itself, a dingy place with trash left haphazardly around from his fast food runs. His furniture was sparse, and the pieces he did have were bottom shelf quality. All he had in his studio apartment was a bed, a previously-wobbly-now-broken coffee table that he had tripped over and crushed, and a couch that only gave the appearance of comfort.

But hopefully all of that was about to change. He had it; it had cost him a full thousand dollars. For him, in his current financial situation, that was a truly enormous amount of money. But he had no choice.

His entire world was built on the concept of stats. A decade ago, someone invented dice that could alter a person’s very core attributes, also called stats. The first time these dice were rolled, they were only descriptive of your stats; almost everyone got a single free roll early in their education because of this. After that, each roll would reset each stat to that number. Mark had no idea how it was remotely possible, probably nanobots, electromagnetic waves or something. It didn’t matter how they worked, society had accepted them as self evidently effective. With these dice, others now had the ability to obtain those normally innate advantages. But no matter how these high stats were obtained, whether through birth or reroll, there were some who worked tirelessly to make proper use of their rare gifts, bettering not only themselves but the world as a whole.

Some. Only some.

So many people were given all tens. They excelled in everything effortlessly, with opportunities practically falling out of the sky right into their lap. They had social skills, they had intelligence, they had creativity, everything. And they squandered it.

They would do the very bare minimum, becoming famous over some stupid drama and ride that fame until everyone involved walked away rich. Then, without fail, they fall apart. Drugs, alcohol, prostitutes, the particular vice they chose made little difference. They all ended the same. Lives wasted and ruined, the final husk found in a ditch, on their mansion’s floor, inside the crumpled remains of a car, or just never found at all.

It was a shame there was no stat for morality.

But Mark knew he could be different. He would be one of those to truly make a difference if he was given the chance; what he would give for full tens. But now… now he had it. Not the guarantee, but the chance. And the monumental risk that came along with it.

He roughly tore open the package he carried and dumped the contents out on what was left of the collapsed table, sitting on his knees instead of the couch so he could actually reach the table. A set of six ten-sided dice, all different colors. Red for strength, yellow for dexterity. Green for intelligence, blue for creativity. Pink for social, and lastly, black for health. Each dice represented a new start for anyone who held them. A chance to alter your destiny.

Mark had his current stats burned into his memory. He had rolled the dice twice before, and he kicked himself for doing it a second time every day since. He got decently high stats the first time; a couple sevens and sixes, with a five in black and a two in social. He thought he could do better, so he rolled again, and instead it ruined everything.

He got almost all twos. And a one in black. His health took a serious turn, and he spent almost all his money just paying his now inflated insurance costs. His lifespan was estimated to less than half of what it was previously; it was terrifying not knowing how much longer he could go on.

Mark picked up the first dice he would roll. One’s stats were always permanent until you rolled a new dice, and the results would need to be provided in any job application. Lying about them was cause for immediate termination, though it wasn’t like people wouldn’t notice quickly if your given stats didn’t match up with your real world capabilities. The first dice he had grabbed without even thinking was blue; he dropped it to the table. It landed on four, glowing as the white number on top remained while the others vanished. He grimaced; whether or not he viewed it as acceptable, it was what he had now.

He picked up the next dice: red. He gave it a roll, and got a two. Same as before. He sighed; this was not going the way he had hoped. Next was yellow. He got a five, which while not as good as his first set of rolls, was a big improvement over what he had previously. With a slightly increased sense of hope, he rolled the pink dice. He struggled to avoid screaming in frustration at what he got.

A one. He would need to call his family after he finished rolling to break the news; he would not be a very nice person to be around during family vacations, and it was safe to assume he would never get a girlfriend now. Unless, of course, his next rolls were far better.

Only two left, and he swore that he could feel the temperature in the apartment rising. Black and Green. The two he dreaded the most. Getting a low roll on either would be unbearable, and yet he had no choice. Black could hardly get worse, but just after rolling a one he was afraid he would get a critical fail again. He held the black dice in his hand, hoping he wouldn’t solidify a short and pain filled life. He shook it in hand, and let it tumble across the table.

He let out a deep breath of relief. Six. Better than he had dared hope. Which left only one more. Green. He picked it up, rotating it as the crystalline structure gleamed in the admittedly dim light. This was it; the final dice. None of his rolls had been fantastic, but this was the one he cared about most. If he got anything below a four, he would likely be living in a hovel for the rest of his life. He was already in considerable debt, and couldn’t find anything beyond the worst paying jobs that would actually hire him with his current stats. If he got lower, he might starve or end up begging – which would likely not work, given how his social roll had gone.

He clutched the dice, afraid to let it go. This one dice held his entire future. He forced his hand open, allowing the dice to fall to the table with a clatter. With a creeping sense of dread, he looked down to see the results.

A ten. A perfect ten. He was speechless as he could almost feel his mind expand, now practically having the capacity to understand all the secrets of the universe. Thoughts and ideas swirled inside his head as he was unable to properly focus and analyze any particular one.

He stood up, grabbed a notepad, and started scribbling. It was late, and he had work to do the next day. Already, he had several promising ideas on how to solve his current financial situation most efficiently. Perhaps he should just quit his current job, but he could decide that in the morning if he was too tired. But then, another thought occurred to him that he had not previously considered.

Were the dice real? Did they truly affect one’s attributes? His physical appearance certainly did not change in the slightest for each roll. He remembered reading something long ago, before his intelligence was reset to two, about the placebo effect. The basic premise held that merely believing yourself to be under the influence of a phenomenon could cause one to experience sensations normally associated with said phenomenon. He shook his head. No, that would be crazy. Just a conspiracy theory, nothing more.

The course of his life had just been redirected. That was all that mattered for the moment. All that mattered was he now held the power to shape his own destiny as he saw fit, wherever that might lead.



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