[ WP ] In this world , everything is determined by the number floating over your head . Everything . And when numbers ahead of you die or get killed , yours moves closer to the coveted position of # 1 . You 're number 22 . For now .

They said Number One was on the run. 
 
 She'd gotten away from her bodyguards and vanished. Number Two, and none of the rest of us have bumped up, and we had n't gotten a ransom notice or anything. We are pretty sure she ran off on her own. 
 
 I'd been Twenty-Two for oh, a year now. Being this high up, it's pretty good, and it's pretty stable. I was born Number 2401. Now, I'm Number Twenty-Two, small enough to spell it out in words. Before I hit 1000, as far as I can tell, only a few newborns were inserted ahead of me in the ranking. 
 
 Or at least one. The current Number One was born 1556, when I still had n't gotten out of the 2000's. She's twenty-seven years old now, she's held the rank for two years, and I've never met her person-to-person. 
 
 We hear a lot about her. She sometimes gives interviews. Makes appearances. But they say she's shy. They say she's brilliant. 
 
 They say a lot of things. I'd like to meet her, if they can figure out where she's hiding and bring her back. 
 
 I'm on my way home from a meeting with the First Hundred Council, I've been in them since my teens. Me and Number One, we were the youngest for a while there, but she was always too far ahead of me for socialization, and her being a few years younger always felt like too much of a difference. 
 
 Anyway, when we got home, the guards got out and escorted me to my building. Most of the team has been with me for years, their numbers are all in the billions, and they change hourly; calling them their number is stupid, so they still use names. I kind of miss having a regular name. 
 
 We're friends, as much friends as we're able to be. I give them what help I can. The only way for them to get up is for billions of people to die, and none of them is genocidal like that, and working directly with a Hundreder gives them some tiny, side benefits that they'd otherwise never have a chance to see. 
 
 I guess I'm kind of rambling now. I've had a few shocks this evening. You see, Bernita was opening my door, she's one of my guards, and the other guard that was escorting me inside, Hank, he told me `` Hey, you went up to 21 now.'' 
 
 Sure enough. I got a notification in my earpiece that Number One must have died, that Number Two had just gone up a notch. 
 
 When I got inside, I sent Hank and Bernita away, started my evening routine. I keep thinking I should get married at some point, but you know, it's kind of hard to find someone at the right level for me. I'm pretty young, compared to the rest of the Hundreders, and they're about the only peer group I have. 
 
 So anyway, I was just you know, puttering about. On evenings after a council meeting, I like to remind myself of how real people live, and make my own dinner, just have the house to myself. Some folk celebrate an upgrade. For me, it means one of my colleagues just died. I did n't know Number One, but I mourned the missed opportunity. 
 
 Someone was in my house. She came out when I found my vegetables out of place in the crisper. I recognized her immediately from her interviews, from her speeches. 
 
 `` You've got to help me,'' Number One said. `` I think... something's terribly wrong.'' 
 
 But she was n't Number One anymore. 
 
 A glowng Zero floated over her head. 
 
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 **Bonus Content** 
 
 This was stuff I cut, but the response has been positive enough that I'm going to just add it here at the end. 
 
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 The number is not wholly random -- genetic screening, astrology, magic? I do n't know. We call it the System, and it's ancient. Whatever it is, it determines a person's `` potential.'' Potential for what? We do n't know. But those born with lower numbers seem to be the best and the brightest. The most capable. Going places. The First Hundred include brilliant scientists, political leaders, the bulk of our geniuses. 
 
 And me. I do n't really think I'm anything special. I had a lot of advantages, growing up. Got into the best schools, had the best opportunities, but I always seemed resoundingly average. Almost disappointingly so, according to my parents. I never cared much. I always wanted to be normal. When I hit a Thousand, I stopped being a person, and could n't ever really be normal again. We're all just numbers, really, but when I was a 1001, people still called me by name. 
 
 When I was born and 2401 appeared over my fuzzy baby head, my parents were surprised. They were in the ten-thousands, and babies are usually in the same range as their parents. But occasionally someone like me crops up. There are some people who think infants should automatically fall in at the end of the line. They think that they should n't have their `` promotions'' delayed so some dumb baby can skip ahead. 
 
 Those people are idiots. Our entire culture is based on the fact that the First Hundred are, in some measurable, *quantifiable, * way, superior to the everyone else. I've been told that my entire life. Now that I'm one of the First Hundred, I do n't really believe it. Most of us are certainly in the top percentile of *something* but that does n't really make us *better. * There's jerks, there's assholes, there's stubborn, intractable fools among us, just like in any other set. 
 
 The number is n't there right away, it only activates after the first hour or so. Our population has been stable in the ten-billions for generations, and there are always people coming in and out of the queue. The System waits for someone in the right range to die, upgrades a few thousand people behind that person, and puts the baby in at the end. 
 
 This serves two purposes: One: the baby does n't directly inherit the dead person's number. That's just grisly. Two: It safeguards against someone getting into the First Hundred while too young. Usually. The System might need to be adjusted, if anyone remembers how. 
 
 Number One caused an uproar when she reached One Hundred at the age of thirteen. She was sixteen when I bumped up that far, and I guess things were hard on her during those three years. It was hard enough on me at nineteen; I do n't know how she survived. 
 
 
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 **Additional Comments: ** 
 The numbers: They're not actually there; it's an enhanced-reality projection. Everyone gets at least baseline-tier augmentation implants, usually around the time they start walking. The System takes its measurements throughout gestation and finalizes and assigns the baby's rank after birth. Also, there's some nanotechnology going on, and stuff like that, because you know, science fiction and all. 
 
 The narrator is n't too clear on the details, just like the average non-parent is n't too clear about what goes on in a typical delivery room in modern times. He's also not too clear on how the System works, as a whole, for similar reasons. The System's inner workings are also kept secret to avoid manipulation. He's high enough in rank to learn more, if he wanted, but he kind of resents how he could never have a normal life, and how the System stole his identity. 
 

