I sighed, shook my head, and followed Mr. Sada up the stairs. A pod floated by me on the way up, to warp away the boots he had clearly put aside for me. When I arrived in the kitchen, he was leaning on the counter and staring at me.

“Bad shit today, Tyson. Bad shit. Makin’ me rethink this whole thing we got goin’.” As he spoke, yet another BuyMort drone wandered in. It warped a small cardboard box onto the counter in front of Mr. Sada and he actually thanked it.

Asshole never thanked me. Once told me that employees should be thanking, not thanked.

He continued, “Whole world goin’ to shit.”

At that point, he turned and grabbed a remote off the counter, turning on the TV. The news was showing a special session of congress where the federal government was being officially dissolved. As I watched, battalions of orcs walked in, wearing almost military uniforms. With them were something new and terrifying, that looked like snake-people.

One group also had a human, dressed in bizarre ceremonial robes. The soldiers among them were each covered in heavy leathers and furs and wore blades and energy rifles on their backs, but each was dressed in significantly different manners, each with a theme. It looked like a series of delegations.

Our lauded federal government had sold all of its legislative land, and the various corporations represented by the orcs and other aliens had purchased it. One senator arose to object to the sale, claiming it was made under duress, and one of the orcs fired their weapon at her. The young woman flopped to the ground with a gaping hole burned through her, and the process proceeded.

Mr. Sada, meanwhile, opened a nearby drawer and got out a small knife. He used it to cut the odd flesh tape on his new package and opened it. “The feds have all folded, Tyson. They’ve relinquished full control to the states and left it up to each one to do whatever they see fit with the alien invasion. Arizona has relinquished those powers to local governments, and it’s all fallen through right down to the local smokeys.”

He changed the channel. “Nobody’s in charge no more.”

A local news program jumped into the middle of a Prescott, Arizona Crisis, as they spelled it out. The mayor of the town had vanished, along with many items from the town hall. It looked like they had run out of the building, selling things along the way.

Local police, fire, and EMS services had all dissolved, and the Prescott General Hospital was on fire. A roving gang of mixed humans and what appeared to be some kind of angry lizard people had robbed the pharmacy, and a resulting firefight with security had destroyed the entire building.

The problem, the anchor explained, was that the only way to claim legal ownership over something, was to purchase a MortBlock from BuyMort, and officials had learned this fact much too late. Many government buildings were being raided, with dozens of BuyMort drones floating around

MortBlocks were small squares that served as an area-wide indicator of BuyMort ownership. They came in several sizes, with according cost. For a modest fee, a MortBlock could be purchased that fit the area a shelf or locker might encompass. For a less modest fee, one could get any acreage out of them.

What they did was simple. Nobody but you were allowed to sell anything of value in the stationary area the block was activated in unless it was significantly altered from the last MortBlock scan or taken off the MortBlock’s covered area.

The one in Mr. Sada’s hands had a fresh etching on the side that said two acres, and it beeped when he pressed a button on its top. He looked at me and said, “Personal ownership is everything now. Always has been, really.”

“What did you just do?” I moved closer to the counter to look at the MortBlock.

“I got a lot of Morties, Tyson. Lingerie is a boom market. So, what I just did is claim my rightful ownership over this plot of land. My campground. No more selling my shit.”

“You just stole my car from me, Mr. Sada.” I leaned heavily on the counter. “The only place I have to sleep right now.”

He paled and quickly waved a hand. “Don’t worry, you can sleep in the car. We’ll figure out the lot rent and utilities as we go.”

I blinked a few times. “Wait, what does that mean?”

Mr. Sada grabbed his car keys out of a tiny ceramic bowl on the counter. “I gotta go get my other properties secured. For now, it just means you still work for me. Keep your phone on, did you get MortMobile yet?” He hesitated in the doorway, looking at me expectantly.

“No, Mr. Sada. My phone was working earlier,” I answered with a sigh.

“Well, they ain’t anymore. Everyone is going under, but not us. We’re turning into a high security rental compound.” He shook his keys at me. “I got dreams, Tyson. Even in this, I got dreams.” Mr. Sada opened the door and pointed at me. “Don’t break anything else when you leave, son. Lock up for me. And get MortMobile.”

I sighed and sat down at his kitchen counter barstool as he slammed the door behind himself. What the fuck was MortMobile. I knew without even asking, it had to be BuyMort’s cellphone plan, so I glanced to the forbidden upper right corner of my vision and activated BuyMort. Navigating to MortMobile was fairly simple, as communication was a basic category in the search. The description of the service made me squint and read it twice.

“With MortMobile, communication has never been easier. MortMobile customers are connected through psychic resonance to the rest of the MortMobile network. Video, audio, scent, and most forms of mental communication are covered by the MortMobile network, and various entertainment and informational programming is available. Sign up today for your trial week of MortMobile. *Only one Mortie per day!” Then, in tiny text at the bottom. “One Mortie per day is the introductory rate, rates will vary based on usage.”

I sighed and signed up. The service looked . . . decent. It extracted the Mortie from your account at whatever time your species rolled over a day and didn’t bother asking you. But, and this was a big but, you could turn it on and off each day as you chose. When I mentally acknowledged my desire to become part of the MortMobile network, BuyMort shrieked, “pod dispatched!”

When the pod sailed in through Mr. Sada’s broken window, I sat my phone down on the counter. It worked fine still, just had no signal or internet access. I’d been on Starlink, but some entrepreneurial aliens used their superior spacecraft to pilfer each and every one of Mr. Musk’s satellites. Shocker. Earth was the latest BuyMort buffet, after all.

The pod scanned me, then scanned my phone. A rainbow beam dazzled me, and a new version of my phone was sitting directly next to it on the counter. Another dazzling rainbow beam and my old phone was gone. The new phone looked exactly like my old one in every way, except the material used in its construction. It looked like heavy, clear plastic now, with a grey-green glass screen embedded in its front.

A new kind of beam shot out of the pod to strike my new phone, one I hadn’t seen before. It was grey and looked like a beam of mist. My new device rattled, and the screen lit up with grey fog. The pod, its job done, flitted out through the window.

My phone buzzed and a grey face swam through the mist to look at me. I couldn’t make out much of the features, as the mist in the screen was so thick, but it was staring at me with burning golden eyes. For an instant, I felt the weight of distance this being was looking at me over, the hundreds of trillions of worlds it was connected to, and the sheer magnitude of its headache, and then the moment passed.

The face in my new phone said, “You are now connected to MortMobile. Think clearly of whom you would like to speak to and say their name aloud to this device to be connected.” I saw bulging vein riddled eyes, and a looming grey slab of forehead before the creature narrowed its eyes.

“Welcome to the MortMobile family, valued customer. I look forward to serving you.” It dripped with venom, and then the fog swirled the image away. Clearly this creature did not look forward to serving me. That was fine by me, I didn’t exactly feel great about having a psychic cell phone either. Even worse when I saw the bill for it on my next MortMobile statement. 600 Morties.

Without much better to do, I decided to go hang out with Roofus the Doofus, see if he was up to playing a little. I doubted it, as when I left the kitchen into the pool area, I felt the temperature increase dramatically. Roofus was in his usual spot, a large blue mat that overlooked the pool. The mat was something I had bought him and convinced Mr. Sada to let him use, it was filled with gel that cooled anything that lay on top of it. Having a malamute in Arizona and forcing it to be an outdoor dog should be punishable by death. I realized I could probably make it that way if I really wanted too now that there were no more police.

Before that thought could spool out much in my mind, Roofus gave me one of his little woofs. It was a nice greeting from a nice dog, and he was way too good for the people who owned him. As I headed his way to give him his favorite ear scratch, he suddenly jumped up and growled, before swiping at the air with his paw. I noticed he was aiming at the upper right corner of his vision.

“Aw, Doofus, not you too buddy.”

I flopped down onto the sandstone next to him and scratched at his ears. He adopted a stretched-out expression and lolled his ever-panting tongue at me. It was too hot. He loved his scratchies though, and soon flopped over to have me rub his tummy.

As I sat and thought about BuyMort, and my new psychic cellphone, I lightly rubbed at the giant malamute’s chest. His thick fur came away in tufts and floated to the stone around us. He literally never stopped shedding, the poor dog. It was one of the reasons Mr. Sada’s late wife had hated him. I stared at a fluff of Roofus fur as it did its best impression of a tumbleweed. The stuff was everywhere in the yard, stuck to cacti and the base of the fencing.

On a random whim, I told BuyMort I wanted to sell a tuft of the fur that came loose in my hand. Within a few minutes a pod had showed up and I had a small pile of it waiting, having scraped and brushed Roofus while I waited. He loved being brushed. The pod whirred over and scanned my pile of fur, warped it away, and my eyes went wide when I saw the price.

Purchase: Biological product, earth canid chitin; ‘dog hair.’ Rarity, rare. Quality, excellent. 403 Morties dispensed.

“Woah Doofus! You gotta try that, you’re worth a fortune.” I leaned over and scratched him some more, and he looked at me. Sometimes I wondered how smart this dog was, because as soon as I gathered more hair for him, he touched it with his nose. When I went to sell it to BuyMort, I got an error screen.

“This product is already in the process of being sold. Discuss the matter with the original seller if you think this is in error. Sale in progress to user ‘Doofus Sada.’”

It was in that moment I knew something important. Doofus was my dog. In his mind, he had chosen the name I called him, and that was how he referred to himself when BuyMort infected him. A tear formed in my eye, and I stared at the notification. Then the sound of a pod approaching brought me out of it. I swiped away the notification in time to see Doofus’ pod show up and sail over the fence. It warped away his new mound of hair, and Doofus lolled his tongue at me.

“You know what dude, that is fair. Respect, and I hope you buy yourself a pool someday.” I raised his paw and bumped it as I always did when leaving, and he flopped over and wagged his tail at me from an upside-down position.

I gave a thought to leaving the dog alone with the slimes in the area, but Doofus was smart, and he knew a million ways out of Mr. Sada’s back yard. He’d run if he needed to. I was more consumed with the thought of what his shop interface must be like as I walked around the side of Mr. Sada’s house.

When I reached his front window, I smiled at the broken glass scattered all over the pavement outside. After staring at it for a moment, I told BuyMort to buy the broken glass and got another error message.

“That property is owned by Mr. Sada. If you feel this is in error, seek the owner and discuss the matter with them.” This time I frowned as I swiped away the screen. This seemed bad. Like BuyMort was painting a target on Mr. Sada’s back instead of protecting his property. I shrugged at it and broke another window. My fist snapped the glass and sent it spiraling into the Arizona sunlight. This time, the pod came and scooped up the broken bits of glass, being careful to only take glass from the window I had just broken. I guess breaking stuff counted as changing it enough to sell.

Purchase: Construction product, mineral glass. Rarity, common. Quality, good. 2 Morties dispensed.

I scratched my head at the ‘good quality’ rating while I locked up Mr. Sada’s front door and started walking back to the campground. The only thing I could think of was that the machine evaluated each individual shard of glass, or maybe the overall composition didn’t matter? Did matter? Confusing. Anyway, it seemed like selling BuyMort random junk would be a valid way to make a living if needed.

That reminded me that I hadn’t eaten or drank very much that day, and I’d been through kind of a lot. BuyMort ads came to the rescue and filled my vision, left to right, with a variety of foods and set menus. Instead of raging at them and shutting it all down, I just started browsing.

With so few Morties in my account, it wasn’t terribly difficult to get the results down to reasonable levels. Food and drink had wild prices, all over the place. A simple twenty-ounce bottle of water was going for almost eight hundred Morties, and my old loaf of bread was on sale for only fourteen Morties.

I ordered a meal that looked like it had been ripped straight from a fast-food joint and paid far too many Morties for it. It was just too tempting, and I honestly didn’t know when I was going to get a bacon double cheeseburger with extra onions and pickles ever again. It even came with curly fries, just the way I liked. The only thing I could find to drink that wasn’t absurdly expensive was a bottle of carbonated aloe water.

A pod caught up to me shortly and dropped off my latest cardboard box. I realized I had no blade on me again and sighed, then started looking for a sharp rock nearby. Thankfully, that’s something we have a lot of in Arizona, so it wasn’t a long search. The strange fleshy tape was emitting a series of heat lines by the time I returned, and a whiff of something gross reached me. I wrinkled my nose and started sawing at it, before removing the stuff totally and leaving it in the desert. Sue me for littering, I didn’t wanna carry it with me.

Inside the box was a familiar paper bag, complete with grease stains. The burger was delicious, and exactly what my hangover desired. The aloe water was less pleasant, but I just choked it down and belched as my new synthetic guts got to work on the meal. It was a quick walk, but I took my time and happily ate my lunch, so by the time I got back it was already afternoon.

Almost made it a whole day already. If I could just focus on not getting attacked by monsters anymore, that would be great. I just wanted to get back into my car and take another nap, so I drudged my bare feet in that direction.

I staggered over in a partial food coma, chewing up the last of my curly fries, and tried the handle. The back door was locked, which didn’t seem like how I had left it, but whatever. I moved up and tried the front door. Both seats were benches, it didn’t matter to me how I slept.

The instant I opened the door, something hissed at me and boiled forward. Great lengths of scaled flesh coiled and warped as this creature hauled itself over the front seat and then out of the door at me. It loomed huge in my eyes as I scrambled backward. A hood extended from the sides of a reptilian face, and fangs extended. Another hiss sounded in the still afternoon air, and I realized what I was facing.