An unexpected knock at the door

Dustin jumped at the knocking coming from the door to his single room apartment. Hastily making sure his video projector wasn’t still running the “artistic” 3D renders of stripping aliens, he stumbled across from his bed. As he went, he dragged his trousers back up and tucked his shirt in - and as such while scruffy was at least mostly presentable as he reached the door. He was pretty sure this would be the building manager come to ask about his data usage again - the old man had been born pre-contact and for some reason seemed to think it was still the 2020s where internet bandwidth had apparently been expensive. Not that it wasn’t still expensive if you wanted to go off-world, but as he didn’t have family on one of the outer colonies or any alien pen-pals (despite his best efforts) his usage remained strictly within the budgeted allowance for any twenty-year-old citizen of Contact City.

Putting what he hoped was a believable smile on his face, he pulled the door open just as another round of knocking started. “Not to worry Mr Johnson, I’m here… oh.” On the other side of the door, hand half raised was not in fact the grumpy face of the building manager. Instead, a pair of men in very smart and identical suits were looking at him. “Mr Smith?” The figure who had been knocking said, lowering his hand and giving Dustin a quick glance up and down. “Please confirm your identity” he added, taking a tablet from his companion and holding it out when Dustin nodded in confirmation.

Glancing down, Dustin realized that the tablet was expecting a hand scan. With a shrug he placed his open palm on the device, asking as he did so “what’s this all about?” There was a beep from the tablet, and the men both glanced down. “Very well, ID confirmed. Mr Dustin Smith, age 20, entrant number 1,892,451. Congratulations on winning the ambassadorial lottery - please collect your personal devices and come with us. Don’t worry about clothes or other belongings - they’ll be sent to storage for you unless you specifically request any of them to take on your trip.”

Dustin blinked at this - lottery, what… then he suddenly realized what they were talking about. Two years prior, the great lottery had opened up - only those eighteen or older could enter - and he’d chucked his name in as a joke. A whole group of his friends had; it’d been a great end of summer prank, there was no way any one of them would win but it’d be a laugh to discuss over drinks as they started looking for jobs. Jobs that - in Dustin’s case at least - had been few, not particularly fulfilling and hard. It wasn’t that he disliked work - it was just that he couldn’t get off world, which meant basically service jobs or doing piecemeal work for the few farms that relied on “hand grown” as a marketing tactic. While basic needs were being met for everyone, anything fancy still relied on trade. Still, for the past six months, Dustin had instead been relying on those basic levels as his available credit balance dropped. It wasn’t that he couldn’t get a job - it was that he just couldn’t find one he wanted to do.

But now… The two men were waiting expectantly. Deciding that if this was a prank by his friends then he’d at least see how much they’d shelled out to make it believable, Dustin ducked back into his apartment and grabbed his personal tablet as well as his jacket. Checking the pockets to make sure his watch and phone were where he’d left them, he turned and followed the two men to the lift leading downstairs. Glancing back, he blinked - there was an entire janitorial team moving into his apartment. If this was a prank, there had to be serious money invested just to get this many people to be willing to go along with it. And that meant there was a chance that maybe this was real.

Stepping out of the lift and into the harsh lighting of the entrance to the building, his two escorts lead him past a bemused looking Mr Johnson who was being held up by another suited figure and into the street - where a small shuttle was blocking the majority of the path. “Given the nature of your win, star command decided that travel by road was inadvisable. Please climb aboard Mr Smith and we will head over to the main base for your orientation.” One of the two agents said, opening the shuttle’s side door and gesturing for Dustin to get in.

Climbing inside, Dustin glanced around - he’d ridden in shuttles a few times; most folk in Contact City had as kids, school trips up to the lunar outpost or to one of the orbital stations to watch important Velca diplomats arriving in their almost sea-shell like vessels. But this wasn’t like the rugged passenger haulers he was used to - for starters, in place of the large harnesses the seats just had simple lap belts, one of which he fastened around his waist as his escort climbed aboard and closed the hatch. The seats themselves were more opulent as well - soft, padded fabric rather than the plastic and canvas of his prior experience.

Seeing his expression one of the suits gestured to the shuttle even as the whine of anti-grav motors lifted them skywards. “You’ll probably have not been in a lux-class before, ambassador. They’re designed to not just get you places, but get you there looking presentable at the far end. Also, we’re not going out of atmo, so there’s no point to the jump harnesses being out - everything not used gets hidden away on these models.” Dustin finally found words to speak - there was no way this could be a prank at this point. “I actually won, didn’t I?”