I was home alone when the world ended.

“Say your prayers, little one; don't forget, my son...”

I hummed along, picking out notes on my guitar to probably one of the first songs everybody learns when picking up an electric guitar. My foot tapped on the floor, the cord of my headphones swaying a little out of synch.

And then the power went out.

I let out a groan and stomped my foot. Then the other one. Then both, back and forth. (Bare feet! Nobody was going to make me wear socks in the house until it was too cold not to! Tahiri Veila was right: socks are a conspiracy.) Where was I going to be without my afternoon practice? I knew I wouldn't lose it all for missing one day, but come on! I was in the zone.

I put my guitar and headphones on the bed and grabbed my phone. At least I could report the outage to the power company.

But my phone was out, too! Crud. Did I forget to charge it? And now the power's out so I can't even...! UGH!! And the eerie, too-still quiet reminded me that, yeah, no power also meant no more air conditioning.

I got up and went downstairs. It was hard to tell whether it was the whole neighborhood or just us, considering it was mid-morning and super bright out. How the heck were we having a blackout on the sunniest day ever? Can too many air conditioners... blow... all the circuit breakers? That's not a real thing, is it?

I poked my head out the door and squinted against the sun. Nope, the traffic light down the end of the road was out, too, so it wasn't just us. No bugging a neighbor to let me charge my phone and text mom about the blackout.

I went back in and flopped on the couch, feeling my pigtails flip around and whap me in the face. Yes, I was thirteen whole years old and I still wore my hair in fluffy twintails. Because it's cute. And I like it that way. And the neon green hair elastics I used looked metal a.f. with the black crop-top I was wearing to bum around the house in. Even if nobody was going to see it, I could still look metal a.f. for myself.

I fished my backpack out from under the coffee table, figuring a blackout while the sun was out might make a good excuse to knock out some of the summer homework I'd been sleeping on.

Congratulations!

Your planet has been selected for the latest round of Maffiyir!

Mafia-what? I looked up, but the TV was still out. I hadn't accidentally jostled mom's laptop... Actually, now that I looked at it, none of the lights on mom's laptop were on, either, and she always left something running on it...

Survive to the end to be granted not only a sponsored citizenship in the Commonwealth, but permanent ownership of all the vast riches you've managed to accumulate throughout the game.

Yeah, that definitely wasn't the TV or mom's laptop, especially since the volume – and where it sounded like it was coming from – didn't change even when I was dangling upside-down off the edge of the couch to peer at where mom had slid her laptop under the chaise lounge end of it. Shouldn't it have sounded at least a little different if it was coming from one actual place?

In order to level the playing field for all participants, all electronic wiring has been ruined and all combustible materials have been neutralized.

That last part startled me so bad that I slid – in a graceful and controlled slide – onto the floor. With only a little bit of flailing on the way. You broke our stuff? Like ALL OF OUR STUFF? Whoever you are, you're a jerk, I thought, peering up at my own bare feet now sticking straight up in the air. I hope you pour chunky milk in your coffee and then step on a Lego on your way to the sink. Jerk.

In compensation for this, every sentient resident of this planet is receiving one ability of their choice! The possibilities are near limitless. Pursuing combat options may net you additional attention and rewards, but know that the impact of such abilities may be more minimal than expected until properly supported. A list of recommended starting abilities will be provided upon request following this introductory message. Simply state “Interface: Ability Options” to see the list.

The game will continue until the sentients of this planet have claimed at least 30% of the non-liquid surface area, or until only 5% of participants remain.

Face the challenges before you to grow in strength and earn rewards.

Good luck!

That... was some straight up system apocalypse kind of language. And it sounded like it was literally being broadcast from the middle of nowhere. Could this actually be real?

I tried it out.

“Interface: Ability Options.”

Here are twelve starting ability options suggested for your species!

It listed a bunch of generic-sounded abilities like “Improvised Equipment” and “Powerful Blow.” It listed them by popping up a little window in front of me that seriously looked like something out of an oldschool JRPG. Focusing on them gave me more information, but they still sounded super generic.

“Come on, you're, like, the actual System. Don't you have anything better?”

Please be more specific.

I groaned again and slowly let my feet flop sideways onto the floor so I could roll over and get up, just to then plop myself on the couch again where I had started, but sitting up like a normal person this time. My math textbook didn't seem so important anymore...

“Something more interesting. Like... I don't know, Telekinesis? Like Jean Grey...”

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There was an actual Telekinesis ability available, but it was third on the list, after Missile and Force Shield but before Burden, Cleanse, Leaping... and the list trailed off after that. I focused on the description of Missile, and got “Accelerate small held object toward targeted location.”

So... less Jean Grey and more Railgun? That could still be really handy, even if it wasn't as flexible as actual full-on telekinesis.

A lot of these abilities sound really... fighty. Not necessarily violent on their own, but, like... meant for fighting. If we were going to have to fight stuff – and let's be real, if it's going to be the system apocalypse, there's probably going to be monsters – then being able to turn anything I could hold in my hand into a bullet sounded like it would be hard to go wrong with. I sure didn't want to have to fight monsters with a crowbar or whatever. I wonder what they meant by 'additional attention and rewards.'

The description for Force Shield – “create temporary shield to repel attacks at targeted location” – sounded too... limited... for a first power. Like sure I'd probably be safer if I took it, but what good is that if I couldn't use it to do anything? “Safe but useless” didn't sound like a good way to go through life to me.

Speaking of life, did this thing really say the game was going to kill 95% of everybody? That's. Um. That's one hell of a game. All of a sudden something that could get me stronger really damn fast sounded like a better and better idea. I snagged Missile and headed to the garage, trying really hard not to think about what that big a number of people would actually mean.

I knew there was an old metal coffee can full of rusty bolts and stuff lying around out there somewhere, and it only took me a few minutes to find it. I looked around, but with all the clutter in the garage – leftovers from who-knows-how many DIY projects that only got halfway finished – there was nowhere I could launch a bolt that wouldn't break something that might be useful.

I snapped my fingers as a thought occurred to me. Long blackout means save water. At least I remembered this now instead of later, even if I did feel like a disorganized mess.

I kept my can of bolts, but hustled back inside to the kitchen. I pulled out every bowl, pot, pan, and pitcher I could find and started filling them with water. They wouldn't be cold, but, well, at least I did one responsible thing in the face of the end of the world.

Without thinking about it, I called out to our digital assistant thing to play me some music, but when no power metal started playing I remembered, duh, no power, no internet, no music. I still had my guitar upstairs in my room, but it looked like that was dead now, too, and to top it off... no Powerwolf. Bummer.

Once I'd filled everything down to the spare “just in case” jars – the ones that we kept for years and never figured out anything to do with – I went to have a look out the living room window.

No monsters inside didn't mean no monsters anyw... Yep, that's definitely a monster.

The thing standing in the middle of the street outside looked like something out of The Last Of Us, or maybe a Leafeon as drawn by H.R. Giger. About the size of a corgi, four legs, kind of animal-shaped body I guess, no tail, but covered in an absolute mess of fleshy-looking leaves that wiggled on their own even though there was no breeze. It had no eyes on its head, just teeth that looked waaay too pointy (and way too many of them!) and these shiny black domes on its shoulders that kinda-sorta looked like fly eyes if I squinted just right.

I noticed it was staring back.

“Kirikikikikiiii!” It made a shrill chittering noise that was pretty much what you'd expect a dinosaur with the personality of a rabid chihuahua to sound like, and shook its leaves with a dry rattle. The only reason it wasn't that scary was because I was still inside, and I was pretty sure it would've charged already if it was going to. But I sure wasn't looking forward to having to fight one of those close up.

Still... this had to be a tutorial monster, right? There was no way we were gonna lose 95% of literally everybody to... that.

I pulled a couple of bolts out of my coffee can, opened the front door, and let one fly. I didn't think to question until afterwards how I knew how to do that. In the moment, it felt like I had always known how to do that.

One bolt didn't kill it, but did stun it, leaving it shaking its head and staggering. The second bolt got it right b... right where “right between the eyes” would've been if it'd had eyes. It made a gross choking noise, then shuddered all over and exploded into blue smoke.

Leaving my bolts where they'd landed, I closed the door and checked my Interface again. If they were going to make us game for our lives, maybe there was a way to level up?

Emma DeVries

Novelty: 5

Abilities:

     Missile (100%)

Points: 12

Money: 1

What kind of a stat is “novelty?” And... “Money”? Come on, System, you couldn't come up with... credits? Or Maffies? Or something? Nope. Just “Money.” Boring. Points sounded good, though. But, like, twelve out of how many? UGH. And of course the Interface itself was ever-so-”helpfully” silent.

I went back to the garage.

Mom was at work – as usual – but one thing about my mom: she's a huge nerd. I was in no position to pretend like I wasn't a huge nerd, too, but Mom was an even bigger nerd. She was in the SCA – the “Society for Creative Anachronism” – and... well, I hoped she wouldn't mind me stealing her armor. I knew where the gym bag she kept it in was. I'll give it back as soon as she gets home, I told myself, But those leaf-hounds look awfully pointy and I'm betting they're not friendly.

So I took my time and put my mom's armor on. The greaves and knee-cops were one articulated piece each, so I started there. Was it supposed to be the belt with the tassets next? I put that on, and then realized I'd forgotten the padding, had to take it off again, put the padding (gambeson! Thanks, Mom) back on, put the belt back on, then the actual body armor – brigantine – the shoulders (pauldrons! I could practically hear Mom reminding me again), and... arms. I knew the arms had like four different names but just like the legs they were all strapped into each other so I could never remember which “brace” was which; to me they were just “arms.” Mom's helmet was a hound-skull style bascinet; I always thought it looked more like a bird's beak but she insisted it was a hound skull. The cha... the maille that dangled from it was called an aventail and yes I remembered that too because I'm also a huge nerd.

I was always surprised by how well I could actually see out from Mom's helmet. I'd always thought that having a helmet on would make you almost blind, but it wasn't that bad. I couldn't see out to the sides very well, was all. I took a minute to duct-tape my can of bolts to a toolbelt, and finished up by putting that on. Lastly, I picked up her shield, thankful that the aluminum it was made of was so light, because, let's face it, I was pretty skinny.

By the time I got back to the front door, there was another one of those leaf-hounds out in the street, but some guy I didn't recognize was beating it with a piece of metal pipe. That's... that's a thing we do now, I guess. At least he wasn't scared by the sounds the thing made. I still thought they were creepy.

He didn't see the other one sneaking up on him from behind somebody's car, so I pointed a bolt at that one and let it rip.

This one had plenty of space to dodge, and dove back behind the car with a chittering dinosaur shriek. I closed the door behind me, locked it, and dropped my keys into the can of bolts. Mom's armor didn't include gauntlets – her hand protection was built into her fake swords instead – so I wasn't too worried about accidentally launching my keys. While the other guy finished off the hound he was already beating, I went looking for the one that ran.

I didn't have to look very hard. It jumped out at me as soon as I got close to the car. I... might have screamed... a little... but the leafy jerk got a bolt to the throat for its troubles, and I got a face full of blue smoke and not claws, so I was willing to call that a win, even if my heart rate wasn't yet.