Another day, another rejection.
The glow of Elian Reyes' monitor flickered against his tired eyes, the late morning sun already blazing through the slits in their half-broken window blinds. The tiny electric fan spun weakly beside him, blowing a warm breeze across his face like a defeated sigh. The small living room of their third-floor apartment smelled faintly of garlic rice, instant coffee, and unwashed laundry.
He shifted on the thin plastic chair, its legs creaking ominously under his growing weight. A belly that had once been flat from walking around their university campus now pressed against the edge of his desk, a souvenir from a month of sedentary living and daily carinderia visits.
On his laptop, three tabs sat open: JobStreet, Kalibrr, and LinkedIn. The holy trinity of disappointment. His resume had been polished, spell-checked, and reformatted more times than he could count. His cover letter read like a desperate love letter to companies that would never respond.
He hit refresh.
Again.
No new results. Still the same listings he'd seen the night before—"2-3 years experience required," "must know React, Angular, Vue," "urgent hiring for senior .NET devs."
He snorted. "Urgent hiring, but still won't take a fresh grad. Nice."
He rubbed his eyes. How long had he been staring at the screen? The coffee he made earlier had already gone cold, but he drank it anyway. The bitterness matched the taste in his mouth perfectly.
"Okay," he muttered to himself, pulling up another job post. "Junior Developer. Taguig. Entry-level. Sounds promising."
He clicked the description.
Requirements: Bachelor's degree in Computer Science or equivalent.Minimum of 2 years working experience in software development.Proficient in .NET, C#, JavaScript, and modern frameworks.
"Two years of experience for entry-level?" he muttered, mouth twisting. "Who do you want to hire—college students from the future?"
Click. Back. Next listing.
Same story.
He slouched further, stomach resting like a sack of rice. His fingers idly scratched at the stretch of skin just above his waistband. He could almost hear his mom in the kitchen back home in Cavite: "Anak, tumataba ka na ha. Puro ka na lang upo."
The front door creaked open. Outside, the landlady's dog barked at nothing. Somewhere down the hall, someone's karaoke machine launched into a wobbly version of "My Way." Classic.
He opened his email. Maybe—just maybe—he'd finally hear back from that company in Mandaluyong.
RE: Application for Software Developer - We Regret to Inform You…
He didn't finish reading. He didn't need to. It was always the same template: thanks but no thanks. We've moved forward with other candidates. Best of luck in your job search.
Elian let out a long sigh and leaned back, chair squeaking beneath him. He stared at the ceiling, blank white with patches of peeling paint, and closed his eyes.
"Maybe I should just apply sa call center," he whispered.
He didn't hate the idea. But after years of late-night coding marathons, sleepless debugging sessions, and a thesis that nearly gave him ulcers, he had hoped for something more. Something… fulfilling. Something that matched the effort he gave.
Instead, he was here—bloated, broke, and burning out.
His phone buzzed beside him. A message from Bryan.
Bryan (CS Batchmate):Bro, I got hired! Junior Developer sa Pasig! 25K starting!
Elian stared at it. He wanted to feel happy. Really, he did. Bryan had been the top of their section. He worked hard. He deserved it.
But all Elian felt was a familiar pinch in his chest. That deep, slow ache of being left behind.
He didn't reply.
Instead, he reached for the bag of Boy Bawang on the desk, popped it open, and grabbed a handful. Crunch. Crunch. Maybe later he'd walk to the sari-sari store for soda. Or maybe not.
He rubbed his face with both hands and groaned. "I need a miracle. A sign. A cheat code."
As if answering him, his phone screen flickered.
He looked at it, expecting a battery warning or a lag. But instead, it went pitch black. A low static crackled from the speaker.
Then, suddenly:
[ Ding! ][ SYSTEM ACTIVATED. ]
He blinked. "What the hell?"
The screen lit up—not with his lock screen, but something else. A black interface, lined with gold circuit-like patterns. In the center, text shimmered into view:
MISSION COMPLETE: Assist a Street Vendor.REWARD: 5 Years of Experience as a .NET Developer.
Elian stared.
His heart pounded in his chest. "Am I dreaming?"
He racked his brain. Assist a street vendor?
Then it hit him.
Yesterday afternoon, he helped Mang Tonyo, the fishball vendor outside their building, push his cart when one of the wheels got stuck. It wasn't much. Just a few seconds of effort. He hadn't thought about it since.
"That's it? That was a mission?" he muttered, half-laughing, half-panicking.
Then came the next wave.
It wasn't physical. It wasn't even visible. But something inside him—his thoughts, his instincts—shifted.
Code. Syntax. Projects. Frameworks. Concepts he only half-understood before now clicked into place. It was like a library of experience had been downloaded into his brain.
He remembered explaining dependency injection to a pretend intern. Remembered debugging a production bug under pressure. Remembered how to build a full-stack .NET web app from scratch. Except… he hadn't done any of it. Not really.
It was all there—five years of experience, like memories borrowed from another version of him. But the knowledge was real. The instincts, the muscle memory—it was his now.
He stood up suddenly, stumbling a bit from the rush. He paced the room.
"This is insane," he muttered. "This—this can't be real."
The phone's screen faded. Everything returned to normal. His apps. His wallpaper. The usual boring stuff.
But his mind was still racing.
He sat back down, pulled up Visual Studio on his laptop, and opened a dummy project he had given up on weeks ago.
His fingers moved with a confidence he'd never felt before. He cleaned up code, restructured the project, and implemented features he had only read about. In under ten minutes, he had done what used to take him hours.
He stared at the screen. It wasn't just theory. He knew this. He was this.
Then another notification popped up on his phone.
[ New Mission Available ]Check System Panel to Continue.
Elian's breathing slowed. He swallowed hard.
There was no app to uninstall. No button to turn it off. No explanation.
Just one thing was clear:
He had something no one else had. A system. A lifeline. A second chance.
And this time, he wasn't going to waste it.
He looked at the screen again. Then, for the first time in weeks, a slow smile crept across his face.
"Alright," he said. "Let's see what this thing can really do."