[ WP ] All 10 billion humans in the world wear wristbands that display their rank in terms of access to global resources in real time . Yours just jumped from the middle of the pack to # 19 in a span of 10 minutes .

My work occasionally takes me to Antarctica. It is my job to verify the existence of potential untapped natural resources as spotted on satellite imagery. I do this on behalf of a large multinational oil conglomerate. I am compensated reasonably well but I'm certainly not a rich man. 
 
 A chill woke me. I sat up in my tent and shuddered. I was used to the cold, being where I was, but this was a different type of chill to that the freezing winds of the tundra produced. 
 
 I looked down at my wristband to check the time when my eyes instinctivly flicked over to the wealth rank indicator at the top right of the small screen. 
 
 Something was wrong. The number should have been around 3,300,000,000. It was instead 103,487,122 and it was ticking down at a ludicrous rate. I did n't play the lottery or own any shares, so I knew it must be a glitch. 
 
 There had been no reported errors with any wrist tracker for twenty years or so, and if you did find and report a bug, Microsoft promised to monetarily reward you. 
 
 It was night and the temperature was around -55, but I was n't going to get back to sleep. I threw on a few thick layers, equipped my personal heat unit and made my way out of the small tent towards the all terrain vehicle that was parked nearby. There was a satellite phone on board; it was meant for communication with the company but brief calls to family members were tolerated. 
 
 I could see flakes of snow fall within the radius of my torch light; the flakes looked greyer than they had any right to be. 
 
 I waded through the knee deep fresh fall and clambered thankfully into my vehicle. I started the engine and turned the heating onto full. 
 
 As I began to warm, the phone beeped into life and after a few minutes it successfully connected to a satellite. I removed the wristband and flipped it over. There was a support number on the reverse. I dialed it. 
 
 Nothing. The call did not connect to the number. I ran a nervous hand through my thick beard. I hoped my phone was n't broken, as I would be in a hell of a lot of trouble. 
 
 I tried the company numbers I had been given. Again, no connection. 
 
 I tried my parents, then my friends and then finally, I began dialing made up numbers, desperate to speak to anyone. When that all failed I began hoping it was *my phone* that was broken, after all. 
 
 I gave up on the phone for the time being and put the wristband back on. It now read 3,990,232. There was no possibility that I was amongst the four million wealthiest individuals on Earth. 
 
 I had enough food and equipment to stay put until pick up in a eight days time, but I was growing extremely anxious. I made a decision - I would travel four days northwest to the small port of New Gouka. There would be a few people at the port and they might have a working satellite phone. 
 
 I drove throughout the daytime and I rested during the nights when it was too dark to navigate safely. Antarctica is almost uninhabited so if my vehicle ran into trouble, I was as good as dead. 
 
 As I crept closer to the port something struck me. I had seen *no* wildlife in days. I would have expected to see penguins or albatrosses or... something. I tried desperately not to panic. I took deep breaths and convinced myself it would be fine once I got to the port. Only, it was n't fine. 
 
 By the time I arrived my wristband was slowing down it's count. I was apparently the 451st wealthiest individual on the planet. I conciously put that out of my mind as I exited the vehicle. 
 
 There was no life in any of the small wooden houses. No people, no animals, just... nothing. Except, it was n't *quite* nothing. There was 
 an acrid smell in the air, like the stink of burning animal carcasses, but I was unable to track its source. I could n't find a phone either and I was becoming frantic. 
 
 That's when I noticed a small ship all alone in the harbour. A motorised fishing vessel called Nostradamus. As I made my way on board and turned on the engine, a feeling of terror came over me. What would I find if I made it back? 
 
 I looked down at my wristband, my eyes at first afraid to put the number into focus. Slowly the two digits became clear. 
 
 19.
