I never really got to do much with my life. Never really made any friends. Never played any sports. Never even got laid. I graduated high school with a 2.8 GPA and got a job working nights at a gas station convenience store. I spent most of my time playing video games and watching TV in a shitty, cheap studio apartment in Redmond, Washington, where the landlord didn't get paid enough to bother ever coming out to deal with anything himself.

  I knew I was probably going to spend the rest of my life going from dead-end job to dead-end job, never really making anything of myself, never making any meaningful connections, just making enough money for rent and bills and maybe a streaming service or two. I'd come to terms with that. I wasn't necessarily happy with it, but I was just apathetic enough about it that I wasn't going to bother putting in the effort to fix anything. Turns out I was mostly right, I just didn't realize how soon my life was going to end.

  I was at work that night, it was a gas station owned by some corporation called EnZon. I got the whole corporate introduction video when I was onboarded, but I never really paid attention to it. All I knew is they had their fingers in a lot of pies, so to speak. I was reading some tabloid magazine about alien abductions and cryptid sightings and stuff. It was all bunk, but it was good for killing time when things were slow. And at this point it was around 2 AM, so when I say slow, I mean it was dead.

  I didn't even look up from my magazine when the guy came in. He looked like a usual night customer; baggy jeans, thick coat, dirty logo tee. He wandered around the aisles for a little while, seemingly looking for something, then he grabbed a little bag of chips and put it on the register.

  I put down my magazine and finally made eye contact. He looked a little nervous, but so did a lot of guys who came in late at night. They were usually druggies who just needed a snack and a sports drink after a bender, and they paid, so I couldn't say no. Like, I literally couldn't say no. Company policy said I couldn't refuse service to any paying customer. I opened my mouth to say, "Will that be all, sir?" but I barely got the first word out before he already had a gun in my face.

  Now, I'd been trained for this. Thoroughly. Company policy was to comply with any demands given by armed robbers, and right now, this guy was shouting at me to open the register. I told him I had to get the key from under the counter, because otherwise it wouldn't open without a completed sale, and he told me not to try anything. But when I bent down to open the drawer the key was in, I noticed his gun was incredibly close. Within arm's reach, even.

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  I don't know why I grabbed the gun. It was a pretty stupid idea, even at the time. Again, company policy is to comply with demands, because EnZon doesn't want to be held liable for employees getting hurt defending company property. Much cheaper to lose $200 in cash than have to pay several thousand in damages.

  Maybe I grabbed it because I wanted to control something about my life for once. Maybe I grabbed it because deep down, I kind of wanted to die. Maybe I grabbed it because the adrenaline hit me and I'd been watching too many action movies lately. Whatever the reason, I grabbed it. In hindsight, the action movie guys usually grab the wrist of the guy holding the gun and not the barrel of said gun, like I did. Maybe I'd have been more successful if I had done that instead, but then again, this guy probably had about 50 pounds on me, and was probably hopped up on... something, so it probably wouldn't have mattered.

  It didn't really hurt at first. The bang hurt my ears, but I barely noticed the bullet tearing through my jugular and embedding itself in the wall behind me. It just felt hot, and then wet. The guy just ran out and jumped in his car, and I stood there, dumbfounded, looking down at my uniform being soaked through with blood. Then my knees gave out, and I crumpled to the floor like a wet paper bag. I could barely tell what was happening at that point. My vision was blurring and all I could hear was a loud ringing. I remember trying to hold the wound closed, but it only seemed to make my throat fill up with blood, and I coughed and sputtered, spitting up gobs of thick red liquid.

  I don't know how long I was lying there on the floor, choking on my own blood as it drained out of me, but nobody came to help. I died alone on the cold linoleum tile of a convenience store owned by a corporation who barely knew I existed, whose property I'd just defended even though I had absolutely no reason to. I thought about who would mourn me. My parents, my little brother, maybe some extended family. Nobody from school. I didn't have coworkers or a partner. A lonely funeral for a lonely person with no dreams or aspirations to be anyone. Fitting, really.

  And then, as the last drops of my blood spread out into the puddle on the ground beneath me, I passed away. That was it.

  Nothing.

  [MEMORY RETRIEVAL COMPLETE: MURPHY, MORGAN]

  [NEURO IMPLANTED. ACCOUNT CREDITED.]

  [CLONING PROCESS COMPLETE. ENZON WISHES YOU A PRODUCTIVE DAY.]