Jackie wondered how her ears were keeping the headphones in place. Since they were shifting into pieces every second.

Eventually, she found the sidewalk. She tried her best, ignoring the justified stares her way. It’s not their fault. They were trying to live during a time where it was so hard.

That sentiment. It always… Made her pause in her raving thoughts. Especially since she was such a history nut, is that true…? They’re dealing with the universe gone mad, whereas conflicts of before dealt with the darkest and amoral of humanity. Despite the bumbling, at least humanity is trying their best to stop it, versus the very real possibility of turning on one another and erase each other off the maps before the Shifts ever could. In some sick individual’s mind or a detached rationalist one, that would’ve been mercy that’s too late to use.

Joy. She was walking down the street in pieces, thinking about death and destruction due to the terribleness of humanity. She couldn’t remotely understand types like she was, and now she was living like them.

She was done thinking. She was just as terrible at it.

Forcing her eyes closed—struggling as she felt the pulsating work against her, she let the lyrics of True Faith blast into her cavities, letting her senses guide her right now. People were going to move out of her way anyways.

Jackie absorbed the mood of it all. She absorbed the subtle vibrations, absorbed the motions that her skin was engaging in. And like it not, even with a moving body, she absorbed the frigid, cold rain that has soaked her completely. At this point, she thinks she’d be in the same position if she did put her hood on, it was just a matter of time and courtesy, at this point. Maybe it was the siVictim in her.

There was a harrowing, grinding noise. A sound that she hated that she was getting more and more used to.

She opened her eyes and took in the familiar sight.

The building before her—which looked like some store—had a moving, living skin-graft that was consuming it from the inside out.

Shiftication. This time, she was kind of surprised that it was still allowed.

With the revelation during N’atural’s first attack, that entire buildings and streets could just open up wide without any warning. Buildings that can move and undo themselves, out of one’s control. But, I guess with the terror incentive of warding against these threats that are seemingly getting worse by the day: Mr. Davenport must’ve gotten his way in the end. There used to be a choice—accepting the process or keeping the buildings normal. Now everything has to allow along with the design of the city, least being torn down and replaced with something else, anyways.

It was… Some kind of mix mash of certain technology, molded by the Noumena influence and transformed into a technological gray matter. It then takes and breaks down the components of what it’s ingesting—not only restoring it, but adding to the structure. Simple wood is now something more advanced to the standard A.R. device or smartphone.

Regular technology suffers from the general human reaction towards the Shifts, suffers terrible sensory overload, causing equally terrible glitches as the standard smartphone tries to do what it was built for, but can’t—the photo gallery being opened up and forced to go into showcase mode, showing the now-corrupted photos. At least it provided an early warning sign for people who were unknowingly in the area of a Noumena event, but of course—technology not working is never good.

But the Good Doctor, Gia Taber, discovered that the warped tech—while not “technology” as we knew it anymore—can take on a life of it’s own, leading to advanced “machinery” like Shiftication. And people like Davenport leading the charge of further innovation and public consumption.

You just have to ignore the horrifying implications of this thing existing.

Jackie just turned away, shaking her head. Desperation is a great motivator.

The 4-or-5 minute song has cycled twice so far on this aimless journey.

Looking across the way, Jackie saw the Extant Shapers put up a high, A.R. wall to a destroyed section of the street. Stocky, full body suits with a mask contraption making the ease of breathing more easy. To make it more creepy of a visual, there was no face screen. Nor goggles. Jackie always wanted to look up how they could see, but always forgot to.

She looked on, seeing the various Extant Researchers carrying out warped pieces of a building. Using their massive gantlets to carry debris that looked like 4 feet in mass. Again, she just turned her head back forward. There’s really nothing she could do anyways, so why comment on it?

The shifting felt like it was starting to slow, at least. Things locking in, motion halted. Maybe she was finally discovering the benefits of inner-peace…

The song was cut off mid-chorus, with a chiming buzz.

Jackie looked at her cracked phone, as the A.R. projection leapt from the screen.

Due to the state of her phone, all she saw was the Extant insignia. It resembled a globe, lines sprawling from the center until it outgrew the circle—topped with middle circles at the end. The image constantly flickered, as it rotated.

“ATTENTION: Citizens [of the City Island of Davenport],” it began—the logo flexed at every word, breaking up into pixels. “Mr. Davenport, the Head of Extant, as decreed the first public STATE OF EXISTENCE convention.”

“the WHAT--?” Jackie blinked at her phone.

“Originally, the STATE OF EXISTENCE was an annual siVictim meeting—issuing experimental treatment and therapy for those in dire need of it, and of course cataloging progress for those who returned. While this seems to be appropriation, Mr. Davenport is only expanding the purpose. Everyone, from all walks of life, getting informed and getting a piece of their mind back.”

“why is the man leading us a moronic genius-?” Jackie continued to gawk in disbelief.

“Attune and convert, the STATE OF EXISTENCE will happen within 3 days. And together, we are EXTANT.”

“NOT FOR LONG, YOU IDIOTS—” Jackie yelled as the construct faded away.

It was the stupidest thing that Jackie ever heard. Short-sighted, reckless, insane. Mr. Davenport, willingly making a stage for something to go wrong—and make the audience pay for it.

Jackie begun to shake her head, pacing in place as her mind rattled off many upon many excuses for the sake of her reasoning. Maybe people won’t go. Maybe people can easily see what is clearly a terrible idea.

…Desperation is a great motivator.

This man is going to get everyone killed.

There only needs to be another massive tragedy. Just one more. One more thing to go completely and horribly wrong, to allow everyone to lose their minds.

She had to do something. But what can she do?

It was like habit. She tapped away, opened the group chat.

The cacophony of emotions battered within her insides.

Guilt. Shame. Anger. Sorrow.

Hollow.

She hunched over, hugging herself with arms wrapped around her literally shifting stomach. Twitching, and then locking up, the pieces of herself stopped suddenly and tightened their placement when they settled. Responding to her state of mind.

It is what siVis does--it is what ends up causing siVictims to earn their label. Their mind breaking their bodies, and losing control of their bodies taking what's left of their minds.

She struggled back up. She tried to work up the courage to press the keyboard, but her finger hovered over the screen, trembling as her thumb simmered briefly into pieces.

They made it clear, she thought to herself. They bailed because they don’t want to deal with her anymore. It was understandable. It was the right thing to do. It’s why there was no discussion, there was no back and forth this whole week and it should’ve stretched on longer. Besides, they probably blocked or erased her number by now anyways.

It was time that she dealt with her shit on her own—versus dragging people and smearing it on them until the leave.

What managed to snap her out of the deep recesses of her head, was the screams of panic that filled the air.

She turned around, and saw that the sealed off site that the Extant grunts were sealing off—was spilling out of it’s own containment.

The workers were trying to get away, trying to stand their ground, do their work, trying to gain traction away so they can fight against this. Too bad, that the very ground was turning on them.

The fallen building begun to rise above the gates, standing erect despite being in total disrepair—the side of it completely removed while the support beams, the inner layers were just like a skeleton. It twisted around, with the movement speed of a glacier—slow, but mighty impact. It grayed out the surroundings around it, causing the streets and buildings around them to instantly lose color, as each surface begun to fold apart, or worse.

The girl was beginning to wonder, if she was truly cursed or has pissed off the natural order with her actions that it was merely putting her into debt with her massive tab, finally.

She looked down at her phone. She didn’t really have a choice.

Jackie’s fingers begun to tap, “First off—sorry—” and tapped sent before she could finish the rest.