Inborn

Chapter 1: The Lonely One

Colossal City lived up to its name.

It was, perhaps, too large for its own good. Smaller than New York City, denser than Boston, out of place among the quaint towns of the Berkshires. It rested in a valley, between the Berkshire mountain range and the Housatonic River. Though not exactly "bustling," it did manage to avoid the stagnation that often befell riverside cities like it.

Viewed from any angle, the skyline was arranged like a bar chart demonstrating the city's own economic growth and decline. On the outskirts were the shorter, squatter buildings, all brick and classic designs. At the center were the shining glass spires of early Man's utopian dreams. The kind of architecture that made a city look like something to be proud of, but at the same time appeared as overcompensation for its own humble origins.

Some might say, it was a reflection of the people who lived there.

Our stage.

Presently, the population consisted of around 690,000 individuals Some 180,000 of these individuals were students. Out of that denomination, about 19,980 were enrolled at one university in particular.

S-W Mass University was seen as a "party college" in the '80s. Socialization came first, and education second. Over the decades, through administrative changes and the general post 9/11 shift from self-indulgent frivolity to cynical realism, this was no longer the case.

"Uptight" was now a more accurate descriptor. Conformity was valued above all else, and students adhered to a strict class-based pecking order. As college is meant to prepare you for life, it made sense that the rich were atop this pecking order. Anything else would simply confuse graduates when they finally got to experience the outside world.

In other words, if you were looking for a party or a protest, your time would be better spent elsewhere.

It wasn't unusual for a student at the lower end of the pecking order to hold a part-time job if they had at least one free day.

Owing to the university's urban location, there was no shortage of open minimum wage positions in the vicinity, and no shortage young people desperate enough to apply for them.

Most of these positions were in either retail or service.

We could focus on any one of the brave young people who would seek out such jobs, celebrating their persistence and cheering on their success. But if we did that, this story would be far less interesting.

Let's focus on one.

Most people didn't bother to ask what the name "2x26" meant. If anyone did, they would be told this: There were seven days in a week. Seven plus seven (two weeks) was 14, and multiplied by 26 equaled 364.

This store was open 364 days a year.

Who had come up with this overly-complicated equation, and why it had been chosen as the name of a gas station store, was currently a mystery.

"Hey."

An impatient tone. A tapping shoe on tiled floor.

"Are you gonna just sit there all night, or do I get the 100% off 'the cashier is a lazy bum' discount?"

Looking up from his comic book, Ulysses made eye contact with a scowling woman. She had probably been standing there upward 30 seconds. Still looking impatient, she pressed an unopened pack of cigarettes on the counter.

"Oh!"

Hurriedly, Ulysses put his comic facedown behind the counter, standing up and taking the cigarettes from the woman to scan. She looked thoroughly unamused as he rang it up and gave the usual spiel: