The world faded away, and a wave of pixels encompassed her.

"You have selected YES," a buzzing female voice boomed. "Now for a friendly message from our leader."

The pixels swarmed like bugs then formulated together into a picture, into a familiar, dreaded face.

"Hello," a deep, haunting voice reverberated through her. "I am Eden. Welcome to Level 1. I look forward to seeing your progress here as you make your way through your biological and physiological needs. Everyone here is your friend, not your competitor. We are all aiming for the same goals: to cleanse our human race and to reach our highest potential." His eyes flashed as the pixels pulsed. "As you achieve your tasks, I hope that you will also come to find yourself. Good luck, and I hope to see you soon in Eden."

Mariola felt more confused than from the time she awoke. She was about to blindly swim her way in the darkness to go outside, away from the haunting face, when the robotic voice said, "Please place your right thumb onto the screen to create your profile. You will be needing it when you begin your tasks."

Hesitating, Mariola put her hands behind her back, away from the flashing screen with a scanner for a thumbprint, for her thumbprint, for her allegiance to this strange place.

What would happen if she forfeited now? Where would she go? What was she supposed to do?

Well, what else could she do? Stuck in a basement of a pyramid, underneath a pyramid, Mariola had no where else to go. Trapped inside a black void, on the trunk of a tree, she didn't have any other option as she stuck her thumb onto the flat screen.

"Welcome, Mariola," the voice said like a lover. "Your profile is complete."

A halo of light emerged from the crown of Mariola's dark head. Flinching and squinting, Mariola saw bobbing...words. Her name. Her tasks. Her...progress.

"Level 1," the voice confirmed, degrading Mariola simply into a measly number. "Arrival completed. Survival of the first night completed. Brought to law completed."

As the automaton listed, a glowing checkmark flashed above Mariola's brow. The light pierced through her tired eyes, but she kept them open as her tasks appeared in front of her.

Rows and rows of bold letters and flashing checkmarks and white light—Mariola could only skim at all her challenges ahead. She could only catch snippets of words—warmth, friend, food, love, stability, sex.

Mariola coughed, her cheeks turning into blossom.

"Your profile is completed, contestant number 100010. For any help or further information, please call for me. My name is Via, I am of your assistance. Eden awaits, Mariola."

"Wait—"

She plucked out her arm to ask another question, to clear the mist of confusion in her mind; but the wave of pixels simply split and rounded around her arms, shoulders, and knees like a playful spirit. The pixels hummed and vibrated and pulsed as it flittered around Mariola then perched on the top of her head and burned her brow.

"Ah!"

Mariola squeezed her eyes shut and balled her fists as if she was tightening a chokehold.

I will not die, she punched the words through her mind. Not like this. Not right now. Sweat trickled down the side of her cheek as the pain dissipated, and Mariola tilted her neck up to the glow atop her head.

A house. A glowing orb of a house floated above her with her name MARIOLA bouncing slightly above the object. Shakily, she touched the shape. Pixels hummed and seemed to melt into her arm then reshape into a house when she pulled her hand away.

"What is going on?" Mariola murmured into the stuffy air. She stood in the darkness of the room, reveling in the milky black that cloaked her. It blanketed her gently—and she wanted to bury herself in it, away from this level, away from Eden, away from the daunting challenges ahead.

She didn't understand. What had she done to deserve this fate? Why was she brought to this hell-hole? Why was there a house on her head? Why didn't she know anything?

"You arrived at the front of Eden's gates the night before with that bloody gauge on your back," the doctor had said when she first awoke. She knew that was real, if the ragged line on her back was any indication.

"What is the point when you will soon remember them?" The man, Sir Eden, had told her in answer to her burning questions, after stripping her clothes, introducing her to his people, and pressing the lever for her descent here. But remember what?

"You were never scared of anything," that frustratingly familiar boy, Edie, had said. "Go in there, prove to him that you are still the Ola I know!" He knew her, and he must've known her well to call her Ola. What did she have to prove? And prove to who?

Tears tickled the side of her eyes. Mariola just wanted to cry and rock back and forth on her knees like a toddler. But she couldn't. She wouldn't.

Chuckling in the back of her cloudy mind, Sir Eden loomed and mocked Mariola. Edie stood beside the grey-haired man, his broad back to her. Mariola's knuckles whitened, and her nose flared.

She'd show them. She'd hurdle through their stupid tasks like a tower of paper cards. She will not cry and give up.

She'd never give up.

"Are you done?"

The leader of the council opened the door, a rectangle of light tumbled into the room and blinded Mariola, making her lose her resolve for a moment. Just a moment.

"Come, child," the man beckoned, his hand beckoning to her. "Your new life awaits."

Mariola nodded. Unsure of what else to do, she walked the pathway to the light, her way out, her hope for redemption.

She'd force the answers right out of that slippery tongue of Sir Eden. She'd find her memories, herself, again. She'd pave her way back to Eden, even if it meant bloodying her nails to climb that deep well.

"What should I do now—" Mariola faltered as her eyes adjusted to the shafts of the buttery light flooding the room and the bouncing shapes atop everyone's head.

Shapes of hands holding, fires, beds, gavels, locks, and other strange orbs marked everyone's brow.

"What does this mean?" She asked the Trunk council before her, gesturing to her own object on her head. "Is this the checkpoint thing?" She was too afraid to know the answer, but she had to ask.

They smiled, wise crinkles folding on the side of their eyes. One of the women—a stout, fair-skinned lady with a pulsing heart on her brow—handed her a black, rusty toolbox.

"You have to make a house," she stated simply with her soprano voice, as if talking to a baby, amusement coating her words.

The toolbox weighed on Mariola's pale hands—her knees buckled, her shoulders lurched forward, her heart dropped. Glancing at the ton of metal in her arms, she grunted out, "Can anyone help me?"

"You have to make your own house," one of the councilors replied. "You can get help only if you're married or if you want to skip this level and lose points."

"Fine," she seethed through her teeth and trudged to a large window where a wooden ladder hung. She wanted to let go of the metal box that squeaked her arms in pain, but that would mean she give up—and she wasn't going to give up.

The gentle wind fluttered and kissed her sweaty neck as she neared the ladder. How am I suppose to carry this and climb down?

She glanced back at the council that watched her with clamped lips that were most likely filled with peals of laughter. Oh, we'll see if they keep laughing at me, Mariola thought. Clearing her throat, she asked, "Is this toolbox of any value?"

The woman with the heart orb furrowed her thin eyebrows and shook her head. "No. Why?"

Mariola's lips twitched upwards, her first smile since the day she woke up, and she let her fingers slip.

Bolts of screws zipped out like escaping butterflies as the toolbox dropped and thudded against the hard ground. A cloud of sand and dust exploded, and the people below coughed and stared at the figure by the window.

"Well," the figure by the window chirped. "Off I go to make my house. Wish me luck."

With that, Mariola gripped the sides of the ladder and put her left foot down, then the right, then the left...

"You could've asked for help to bring it down!" The soprano voice of the woman shouted out.

Mariola's lips twitched again, and she kept her feet moving down down down. She didn't look up, and she didn't dare look down to see her challenges waiting below.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'*ﾟ▽ﾟ*'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

Yay, another chapter completed! I am really trying to update every three days. To be honest, I'm making this story up as I go; so please forgive me if I don't update very fast because inspiration takes time to find me!

What do you think about Mariola? Why does she have to make a house? How are you liking the story?

Feel free to give any suggestions! I love hearing from people, especially my only two dear readers 😁😘 you know who you are! 💖 I would really like to dedicate this whole book (if I ever get that far!) to you two for all the support and advice 😁 thank you so so much!