I look at the information. Me, according to this system thing.

The new me.

I don’t feel any different.

“So,” the biker woman says, smiling at me. “Looks like you’re done too.”

“What makes you say that?” I ask defensively, preemptively silencing my paranoia.

“You don’t look as focused. What do you think’s going to happen in twenty-some minutes?”

I glance up and right. Twenty-three minutes. I shrug. This could still be me going insane. She could be a figment of my imagination.

“You think it’s the reason technology stopped working?” As she says that, a strident roar approaches rapidly and a man on a Harley-Davidson fly by us. “Lucky bastard,” she says.

“I don’t think it’s all failing.”

“I wonder what decides what stops working.”

I shrug again and will her to go away or look through her sheet and—

“What’s you pick?”

I glare at her and she raises her hands.

“Just curious. You know, making conversation. Passing the time until this timer hits zero and I find out if this is a brand new world or I’m in a padded room.”

“It’d be me,” I say before I can stop myself and my father’s voice laughs. She looks at me curiously and my mother whispers. Try. I sigh. “If someone is crazy and imagining all this, it’s me. I have a… history.”

“With being crazy?”

I clampdown. Nothing good comes from sharing personal information.

“Alright everyone!” the woman in a business suit calls you. “I think that what we need right now is to pray and remind each other we aren’t alone in this.”

Biker Woman rolls her eyes, but a dozen people congregate to her. I wish Biker Woman would too. I reach in my pack and pull a trail mix bar and eat it. I feel better after the second one, I relax a little.

“Does that still work?” Biker Woman asks, nodding to the watch on my left wrist. It’s old and bulky. My mother gave it to me when I turned eighteen. It was her fathers, it survived Vietnam. A reminder I can survive too. Whatever the world throws at me.

The second’s needle ticks away. It survived this change. Unlike my van, it seems. “It does.” I roll the knob reflexively.

I glance at the timer. Nine minutes. Business suit Woman sounds like he has experience leading groups in prayer. Religion, my father’s voice says happily, number one method of mind control.

Some people can put their faith in something greater than themselves, I reply to it. Because they didn’t have you making sure they couldn’t have faith in anything.

“She’s going to be a handful if this is real,” Biker Woman said. “You think she’s—”

I stand and walk away from her, pulling out another trail mix bar. I pace one length of the underpass to the other, staying away from people as much as I can. At the one-minute mark, a car drives by us, only to come to a full stop before it can make it more than five hundred meters. The driver exits and screams at the car, then the timer hits zero.

System Initiation Complete

Welcome to the System

The Message goes away without me prompting it.

“You’re a Wizard, Terry!” the kid yells, fist-pumping. The woman I saw with him is sitting on the ground, looking distressed.

I feel something pass over me. In me, through me. I look around, and confusion is the expression on everyone. Business Woman raises her voice.

“Pray! Pray for God to protect you.”

No one will protect—

A roar shakes the underpass. Something primal, feral. A parked car skid sideways and something stands. It’s over seven feet while still partially crouched. A man screams in fear and it roars back, swiping, and the man goes flying, vanishing in the distance. It pants as we all stand there, stunned in immobility.

“Wow!” the kid exclaims. “You’re a troll!”

It, the troll, locks eyes on the kid and I realize that with those long arms he’s within reach as it roars and raises them. Fuck. It’s going to crush the kid. I take a step in their direction. I’m too far, but I can’t let him die like that.

Switch, Activated

Strength 26, Endurance 24, Health 24. Time remaining 11 seconds.

I look up at a mass of gray-pink naked flesh, toothy maw of a mouth, and a fist coming down at me.

I raise my arms and the blow drops me to a knee. At the bottom of my vision, a red bar drops by a quarter. A second fist drops on me, the bar drops to half. The timer ticks to eight seconds. I scream in concert with its roar as it strikes me a third time. That bar only has a quarter left and I suspect that’s the little life I have remaining.

I hit it as hard as I can as the fist comes down yet again and it staggers back from the impact. I stand and I smile. I can hurt that thing. I can make sure it never hurts anyone ever again. I step to it while it’s confused, winding back. The timer hits three seconds when my fists connect. It staggers and loses its footing.

Oh, I am going to enjoy breaking that thing into small pieces.

“Mary?” it calls. Its voice is deep, resonating. Filled with terror as it looks at me. “Mary, I’m scared.”

I freeze and can’t comprehend how this thing, this monster, can talk. Its speech is slow, like it has difficulty forming the words.

The timer hits zero and I drop to a knee again. The red bar doesn’t change, but I’m exhausted. It flickers away and one counting down from fifteen minutes takes its place. I force myself to stand and step toward it. If it gets over its confusion and attacks, I’m not going to be able to stop it then. I have to end it now. It’s the only way anyone will be safe. It’s the only thing I can—

“Bernard?” a woman calls.

“Mary?” the troll answers. It’s pushing itself away from me as if…

How can that thing be scared of me?

“Bernard, of my God, what happened to you?” She’s next to me. She’s the old lady that walked with me to the underpass with her husband. That thing is her husband?

“I’m scared.” It points to me. “He hurt me.”

She looks at me, looks at the troll, at her husband. She’s torn between confusion and anger.

I’m… scared. I was ready to kill it—him. I was certain it was the only way to fix this. Has this system done something to—

My father laughs.

I walk away from them, fist-shaking. I want to hit something, anything, myself. I want him to be before me so I can rip his head off his shoulder.

I listened to him.

Before I can resolve my anger, a man walks in my—our—direction. He’s angry and gripping a gun tight enough his knuckles are white.

It’s not your problem. My father says.

And I step before the man. Defiance at the voice. Resolve at not having more violence happen.

The man stops. He’s my age, maybe a little older, but worn. “Get the fuck out of my way.” Behind him, a crowd follows, led by Business Woman.

I plant myself and cross my arms. “No.”

He shoves the gun in my face. Does it even work? “That thing’s a monster. An affront to God. It has to be destroyed.” Now I have a good idea who put him up to this.

“He’s an old man. He’s scared by this, just like you, just—”

“I’m not scared. I’m angry. Whatever this is, it’s wrong! And I’m not going to let it continue.” He moves the gun away from my face and I grab it before it’s pointing at Bernard. Mary is soothing him, her voice amazingly calm amidst all this.

I twist the gun out of his hand. It feels strange to hold it. I’ve never even seen a gun for real before this. It’s lighter than I expect it to be. I spend a second trying to figure out how to remove the clip, then toss it as far as I can.

A green square pulses slowly in the upper left, but I ignore it. Right now, I have to be focused on the real world.

The man looks shocked at my action. “You threw away our only protection!”

“I don’t need you killing anyone. I’m not going to let you kill anyone. Go back with them. Don’t even think of trying something like this again.”

For a second he looks like he’s going to challenge me, but then he turns and steps away as Biker Woman approaches. Only her skin’s green, tusks jut out of her mouth and her body doesn’t look—

“That was awesome!” the kid exclaims. “I was there, then I was there, and you were there. What’s your class? I so should have picked that. You punched a troll!”

I round on the kid. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” there’s so much force in my words he backs away. “Are you looking to get yourself killed? You just stood there like an idiot waiting for that fist to crush you. I ought to—”

I clamp my mouth shut.

Fuck! I need to get out of here.

Green skin Biker Woman raises her hands and takes a step back as I storm by here. I grab my pack and I rip into trail mix bars.

That pulsing green square draws my attention again as I calm and I focus on it.

Quest Completed: The Way of the Guardian, 1

The guardian protects. He protects his charges, but he also protects others. Sometimes even his enemy.

Reward, 1000 XP.

Experience? Do I even want to know what that’s about?

System Query: Experience

Experience is one of the ways in with entities within the systems grow. It is gained through combat and quests. When you have enough experience, you will reach the next level and gain automated bonuses and have access to new abilities as specific milestones for the class you have chosen.

“What was that about?” a woman demands, behind me.

I consider ignoring her. I have experience in that and seems to me it’s kind of obvious the world’s going insane; if I haven’t.

Try. My mother whispers and I sigh and stop. I turn and frown at the woman before me. She’s taller than me, which isn’t difficult since I’m only a meter seventy, but she’s way taller than I am. At least two meters. And she’s massively muscular, but in a way that looks natural on her. Her shirt and jacket are ripped as if she outgrew them, and her skirt is tight, looking more like something out of gladiator movies.

A few meters behind her is the kid, and I realize who she is. Although she didn’t look like some warrior woman when I noticed her last.

“He nearly got himself killed,” I say.

“Yeah, and thanks for saving him, but did you have to scream at him like that?”

“He needs to know what he did put him in danger.”

“You could have been nicer about it.”

I snort. “Nice is a lie. It’s the guy offering kids candy before shoving them in his van. It’s the door-to-door salesman’s smile as he talks you into signing your life’s saving away. I don’t do nice.” I look beyond her. “Sorry for screaming at you, kid.” I turn and walk to my van again.

“I’m Terry,” he calls and I hear him run.

“Terry,” his mother calls in exasperation. “You saved my life. I guess you’re a hero.”

I nearly trip. “I’m not.” I look at him, all hope and wonder. The world falls about, and he thinks it’s one big adventure.

Lucky him.

“How old are you, Terry?”

“I’m nearly sixteen.”

“You turned fifteen two days ago,” his mother corrects him. “We were driving to Hersey as a delayed birthday celebration.”

I nod, then freeze.

Birthday.

Shit. My mother’s birthday. Am I going to make it?

A green square starts pulsing again. That better not happen too often. I focus on it.

Quest possibility: Home for mom’s birthday.

Even though the world has changed from under you, you still think about your mother and you want to be there for her birthday.

Do you want to set this as a quest? Yes/No.

Reward: experience, plus unknown.

Of course, I want to make it on time. What kind of thing is this system that it thinks otherwise?

Quest: Home for her birthday, set.

Time remaining: eighty-eight days.

Next to the six-minute timer, eighty-eight days appear, then fades away. At least that isn’t going to be there all the time to stress me out.

So much easier to forget about it, that way, my father’s voice taunts.

“Has it passed?” Terry’s mother asks as I reach for the sliding door of the van. I look at her. “You stopped moving and kind of went away.”

“This system thing had a message pop up.”

“It’s like a video game!” Terry exclaims. “You get messages for accomplishments. I wish there was a wiki. The tabs aren’t well documented.”

Tabs? When did he have the time to explore any of this? “What’s the red bar?” I ask as I reach under the wooden frame that supports the mattress.

“That’s your life bar.”

I glance at it, the quarter of it that’s filled as I pull the road atlas. “How do I refill it?”

“You heal.”

“I don’t feel hurt, just sore from those hits.” I open the atlas.

“Your class must grant you—” Terry stops as the atlas shimmers out of my hands

Error: system central database inaccessible

Collating information locally

Please wait.

“What was that?” Terry’s mother echoes my question. Before I can reply, the box goes away and is replaced with a map of the United States and Canada. The colors are faded, and there are no names on it, but a flashing blue dot more or less where the northwest of Virginia draws my attention.

I push it away and Terry and his mother step back, expression more confused than worried. I see them through the map. With two fingers I zoom, feel silly, and think it into zooming on the dot.

The highway became visible, with maybe a hundred meters around it in vivid colors matching my surroundings. I zoom out and move it until buildings are visible. When I zoom back far enough I can’t make them out, a white dot remains, disappearing as I zoom out again. North of us, one lasts longer. Probably a representation of the population sizes, what I really need are the roads.

The network of roads appears, a copy of those in the atlas. They look artificial against the natural colors, even if those are faded. No names or highway numbers. I try to will it to zoom on Toronto, but unless I manually move what I see, it doesn’t react. I also can’t get it to tell me the distance. But I know that one. Close to a thousand kilometers.

Eighty-eight days to travel that distance. It should be easy to do, except for all the new unknowns. If Bernard has turned into a troll, Biker Woman has gained green skin and tusks. What else has changed?

Even without the names, I can trace the route I’d take driving. The highway to Winchester. From there, the 522 to the 70, then the 99, then 219, and the border.

“Excuse me.” She hesitates. “What’s your name? We’ve been talking like this and I didn’t think to introduce ourselves. I’m Lizzy, Elizabeth, and he’s my son, Terry.”

“I’m a wizard,” Terry says, grinning. “My mom’s an Amazon.”

“My class is Strider,” she says. “Amazon is my species.”

“I told her to pick that,” he beams with pride.

The ease with which they offer the information puts me on edge. How many times did my father use that trick to screw with me? Answer questions with apparent honesty and fervor, only to lie to me? And for me to find out when my classmates ridiculed me?

I walk to the back, using the time to figure out what to do. My father clamors for me to lie. It isn’t like they can check anything I’ll say. I can even make something up about my class. A quick query to the system confirms that the class list isn’t available anymore. But my mother reminds me that my father is and always was one of the exceptions in the world. Most people aren’t looking to hurt me.

“My name’s Chuck,” I answer, opening the back. “And if you don’t mind, I’ll keep my class to myself.” My form of compromise.

I take the top fifteen-kilo plate that’s at the back and wonder what to do with it. I don’t want to just through it away, but I’m going to be on foot, so I need to manage what I bring. Some form of storage will be—

The plate shimmers away.

Their disappointment is replaced by surprise.

“How did you do that?” Terry asks.

“I didn’t,” I answer, and a tab pulse at the top of my vision. I look up at it and a window opens. On the left is a human silhouette, on the squat side and bulky. I decide not to argue with this system that I can’t be that squat. Boxes surround it, some with items in them, my shirt, my jacket, shoes, pants, watch, necklace. On the right is a grid of boxes, five by five. Twenty-five boxes, with one containing a weight plate of fifteen kilos.

As I reach for another place, Terry’s eyes widen. “We have an inventory system! Do items stack?”

The plate shimmers out of my hand and the number two appears under the box with the plate in it. “This doesn’t make any sense.” I will the plate in my hand, and it shimmers into place. “Where does it go?” I ask Terry, since he seems to understand this thing.

“In your inventory. I only have nine spots, that sucks.”

I decide not to tell him how many I have. I don’t want to make him feel bad, I tell myself.

“I have thirty-six,” Elizabeth says, surprised.

Terry looks at her, then at me. “How many do you have?”

My father advises lying, of course. “Twenty-five.”

“It must be related to strength.” Terry leans against the van and swipes the air. “I wonder if I have a spell that lets me carry more stuff.”

I contemplate what’s in the van. If I can bring twenty-five unique items but more than one of each, I can carry a lot. It makes the decision easy. My weights and bars go in. “Is there an actual weight limit?”

Terry eyes the weights vanishing at my touch. “You can tell me that. How much weight did you just put in your inventory?” I run the numbers. “Two hundred and sixty-five kilos, not counting the bars.” I’m stunned at the number. I walk around and don’t feel it. I go back to adding stuff. Sleeping bag, pillow. Clothing becomes a problem since each is a unique item, so takes a full slot.

Food goes in the backpack. And when I put that on my back, a new inventory appears. Eight slots, each containing the items I put in. This weight I can feel on my back.

“You look like you actually know what to do,” Elizabeth says.

“I’m going to Toronto,” I reply. Leaving the van behind hurts. It’s been home for years now, but if there’s one thing my father got me to learn is that things change, and holding on to what was never helps you. “It’s a long walk, so I need to start moving now.”

Before Elizabeth can say something; before Terry can object. Before I can take a step, a sound catches my attention. Our attention. I look up; That’s where it’s coming from. By the time I’ve located the dot, it’s the size of a quarter, and I can make out wings on each side. Understanding comes, and the plane is over us, still falling. I follow it as it vanishes over the hills, then the sound of the crash comes.

“Stay here!” I yell as I run off the highway and in the direction the sound came from.