James Johnson, late twenties at work in cubicle hell

James was sitting in his cubicle, eating a sweaty poor man's lunch he'd made himself and brought to work. James' life had not panned out the way he had hoped. He had gotten an education that a decade ago would have guaranteed him a life in the upper middle class.

Now, however, he was stuck paying down his debts in a low income IT-support position in a faceless corporation that probably wouldn't have minded inventing and unleashing grey goo on the world if it let their owners buy themselves another yacht.

The people he had to help turn on their computers were assholes. His boss in IT some rich guy's kid with no idea of how to either lead or to run an IT department. At best a few of his colleagues were enjoyable to chat with, but they barely got fifteen minutes a day to do so anyway.

And lets not even get started about the situation back in his apartment. The neighbors. The rocky relationship with your girlfriend who you were suspecting were cheating on you. The landlord's bratty teenage kid collecting rent as if they were royalty. The landlord's janitor slash mobster goon cousin who you were sure were the guy that knocked you out the one time you were late paying rent and got back from a long overtime shift.

All of these things that previously were realities of life, were now opportunities for you to fix. A weird prompt had popped up on your phone, but you realized this was something you've only heard rumors about: The Omni App, digital witchcraft.

Most people didn't care, but you knew from the way governments suppressed every story about it that there had to be something serious behind it. You've even managed to get your hands on some documents that the scientists who made the hypothesis about the possibilities (A lot of multiverse and quantum theory) before mysteriously disappearing. You literally burned a physical network node because you noticed your proxy network began getting massive brute **** attacks after you got your hands on the document.

Either this was a stroke of luck, or some divine act of a god, or a extremely niche prank that seemed excessive. Still, the costs of it being a prank were two minutes of waste, the benefits of it being real... priceless.

James opened the link to see what sort of hand he'd been dealt.