Code of Unequal Love

I gazed at the app icon on my screen, a wave of nausea washing over me.

In what felt like a previous life, the gnawing hunger that came just before death was my constant companion.

I remembered the days I would sneak classmates' leftovers in the cafeteria, the nights I would dig through trash for stale bread, and the shivering cold of winter classes, my only warmth a ragged coat scavenged from a dumpster.

Meanwhile, my brother always sported the freshest kicks, bragging as he showed off his latest ten-grand windfall from the app. "Man, sis, you've got the worst luck."

I used to believe it was just that: bad luck.

However, as I lay dying, my college smarts helped me uncover the truth: the app's code was rigged from the start.

My account ID was doomed to always come up empty.

I inhaled deeply, fighting back a lump in my throat, and slid the phone back to my mom:

"Mom, this whole 'Shake for Allowance' thing doesn't sit right with me."

Her smile stiffened, and she peered at me with knitted brows. "What's wrong with it? If you're lucky, you could rake in way more than you used to."

"That's just it. It's all about luck, and that's not right." I held her gaze, no longer dodging the truth: "Are you sure there's no bias in the app's random number generator? Like, maybe for different device IDs, or certain accounts?"

My mom's denial was quick and firm. "What are you on about? Why would I do something like that?"

The pangs of hunger that once doubled me over seemed to return.

I faced her growing irritation head-on, "Allowance should be a sure thing, not a roll of the dice. I think a set amount for my brother and me would be better."

Her voice was tinged with irritation, "What do you know? I'm using this app for a contest, and you two are just part of the test. You should be flattered. Or are you just scared you're unluckier than your brother?"

Her words hit me where it hurt the most, drawing a line between my little brother and me.

She was trying to put me down to get her way.

"True, you've always been the unlucky one. You can't even drink water without choking, can't eat without gagging, and you always end up with a fish bone stuck in your throat."

Her words got sharper and sharper, turning into a full-blown character attack.

Just then, my brother, who was lounging on the couch playing games, looked up and said with a lazy drawl, "Come on, sis, Mom's just trying to help. Why not give it a shot? It might be a blast. Maybe you're on a winning streak today?"

He had that smirk on his face, the kind that loves a good drama, and his eyes were teasing.

I forced a stiff smile and said, "You're both right, Mom, bro."

I grabbed my phone and hovered over the app icon, "Let's see how lucky I am."

With that, I gave my phone a hard shake.

The wheel on the screen whirred and, just like in my so-called previous life, landed with pinpoint accuracy on the blinding "0".

My brother, predictably, hit the jackpot with "10,000 dollars".

Mom's lips twisted into a smug, knowing smirk, and my brother could not help but let out a loud, mocking laugh.

"Looks like your luck hasn't gotten any better with age."

I took a deep breath and tuned them out.

In my previous life, I majored in computer science. If they were so set on me using this app, well, this time I was going to show them what I could do.