THE MAN WHO DIED TWICE

The Fall

The soft hum of the automated car's engine was a soothing background noise in the otherwise silent interior, providing a stark contrast to the buzz of anticipation that filled the air outside. Rondal Simmons sat back in the driver's seat, his hands resting idly by his side as the car navigated the evening roads with precise autonomy. It was 6:54 pm on March 4th, 2786, and the world was abuzz with the imminent celestial event.

"The world is on the edge of its seat as we await the Artemis asteroid's closest approach to Earth," one reporter exclaimed, her voice tinged with a mix of excitement and apprehension."Yes, and while we're all watching from down here, the wealthiest among us have retreated to the Elysian Zenith, the luxurious space station offering an unparalleled view of the asteroid," the other added.

Rondal felt a surge of annoyance. The disparity between his own reality and that of the privileged few who could afford such extravagance was stark. "Car, turn off that crap," he commanded, seeking refuge from the relentless chatter.

"Radio off," the car responded in its serene, mechanical voice, returning Rondal to his much-preferred silence.

The car's arrival at the Solis Hotel marked the end of his journey. As he stepped out, the vehicle offered a courteous farewell, "Thank you for choosing Ryder, Mr. Simmons. We wish you a pleasant stay."

Rondal nodded, barely acknowledging the car as his attention was captured by the towering hotel in front of him. "Solis" gleamed in the night, its name shining as a beacon. Inside, the hotel's lobby was a symphony of technology and luxury, where humanoid robots awaited to assist the guests.

Approaching the reception desk, Rondal was greeted by a robot whose appearance and demeanor were uncannily human. "Good evening, how may I assist you today?" it inquired, its voice devoid of any discernible emotion yet strangely comforting.

"I have a reservation under Rondal Simmons," he replied, watching the robot's eyes flicker as it accessed the reservation details.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Simmons. You're booked for our master suite on the top floor. The total for your stay will be 65,000 credits," the robot informed him, its face displaying a practiced smile.Rondal nodded, extending his wrist to allow the chip embedded beneath his skin to complete the transaction. The process was seamless, a testament to the advancements in technology that had made such interactions commonplace.

"Is there anything else I can assist you with, Mr. Simmons?" the robot asked as it concluded the check-in process.

"No, that will be all, thank you," Rondal responded, eager to retreat to the solitude of his suite.The elevator ride to the top floor was swift, and as he entered his suite, the panoramic view of the city took his breath away. Yet, the luxurious surroundings felt hollow, amplifying the solitude that enveloped him. Alone with his thoughts, Rondal poured himself a glass of wine.

His mind journeyed back to his past. He remembered the relentless pressure of his childhood, where academic excellence was not a choice but a necessity to avoid his father's wrath. His father, a man of unyielding standards and a temper as fierce as a storm, had dominated every aspect of Rondal's early life. There were days when the house felt like a warzone, and Rondal, a mere soldier, always braced for the next attack.