I had just gotten back from a delicious lunch of pizza pide at Surf&Turk when the oddities began.

It was New Years’ Day 2022, exactly one year after receiving that letter. I had been on edge all morning, expecting something to happen, and now, it finally was.

But it was not remotely close to what I’d been anticipating.

Bob, who did not work at the shop, had been watching the counter while I was at lunch.

Bob was a rugged outback type in his fifties. Not that you’d ever find that out from him. Getting a straight answer from him or his brother wasn’t easy.

“No smoking in the shop,” I scolded him.

“I’m not smoking,” Bob answered, blowing out a cloud of smoke.

“Vaping, whatever. Don’t burn things and blow out their combustion products in my store.”

“Microdosing mate. It’s the wave of the future.”

“Which you won’t have if you don’t stop doing that.”

Bob cracked a leathery smile, took one final puff, then stowed the device in one of his many pockets.

He looked ridiculous in his plaid flannel beanie, jacket, and cargo shorts in the 80-degree-Fahrenheit weather, but I liked Bob. We got along. We both shared a distrust of… well everyone, but especially the government. He was the only one I could get to take the letter I’d received seriously. Everyone else I’d showed it to—which admittedly wasn’t that many people—wrote it off as viral marketing.

If only he could remember it for longer than a minute.

“Any customers while I was gone?” I asked.

“Not as such.”

“What does that mean?”

“The actor stole another coffee.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

He held up a US twenty-dollar bill. “Gave me this useless piece of paper, then left. Thought about using it to roll, but who knows what toxins it’s filled with.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. Thomas Turner was a famous actor. Despite being Australian, he always paid in US dollars. No idea why. But, he also always overpaid, so I wasn’t complaining. “He the only one?”

“The only one who stole something physical.”

“Meaning?”

“Finnegan,” he said with pompous elocution, “stopped by.”

“Ah, an information thief. Spying again?”

He nodded sagely. “If I had to guess.”

“Why can’t he just stick to running his hotel?”

“He’s a greedy one.”

“No kidding. He’s already got to be the richest person in town. Seriously, I think he’s richer than Tom. He even got the council to ignore code to let him build that place. How much did he have to pay off the neighbors so they wouldn’t complain?”

Bob said something in response, but I didn’t catch it, as that was when the message appeared floating in front of me, looking suspiciously like the letter I’d received a year before.

I was surprised, but not that surprised. I had been expecting something to happen after all, just not exactly this.

I tried touching the document and found it was solid.

When it didn’t immediately electrocute me or otherwise try to assault me, I took it in hand. It felt rough and too heavy, but otherwise like the paper it appeared to be.

The next message that appeared was purely in my head.

Which is far more disturbing than something appearing in front of you.

You have activated complimentary ability, [Document Storage].

As I read the message, a voice in my head spoke each word.

It wasn’t my voice.

“What is going on?”

The message faded and I looked down at the letter in my hand. I began reading, a different voice this time speaking the words into my head, sounding young and overly enthusiastic.

Hello hello hello Earthlings, I am your assigned system Unassigned System 3121, here to make sure the Overlords don’t get wind of ya. Couldn’t be having that, now. It is my job to disseminate *~*magic~*~!!! Yay! I mean it’s not really magic, but it will seem like it to you.

You may be thinking, wait, magic? Overlords? What’s this nonsense?

I know, right!?!

But it’s true! MAGIC! Yay!

As for the Overlords, who and what they are is not important right now. Even if I told you everything about them, you wouldn’t stand a chance. You’re all a bunch of dumb, weak monkeys.

No offence.

But you have potential. You can be more.

Which is why I’ve spent the past 32 milliseconds going through all your entertainment and meticulously planning how to disseminate magic to your unwashed shores. And a wonderful plan it is, if I do say so myself. And I do! So it must be true!!! A great wonderful plan. You’ll love it!

“Strike me… Are you seeing this?” Bob asked, looking at his own version of the letter. “Or have I finally had one too many trips?”

“Both,” I answered absently.

He rubbed his face. “Me head-voice has gone seppo.”

Another message of the floating-paper type appeared, blank at first, then words materializing as that same enthusiastic voice spoke them into my head. This one was directed specifically to me. I left it floating in the air as I read slash listened to it.

Greetings, Noah Whitehall! We’ve already met. Well, not really. But I just sent a message to everyone, which included you, so we’re not strangers. Is it weird to say I feel like I’ve known you my entire life?

Yeah that’s probably weird.

Anyway, it’s me, System 3121-111.

I see you are the owner-operator of a multipurpose store. The Corporation loves to see that kind of gumption!

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

You should have gotten a message a year ago informing you of today. I have to say, I got less response from that than expected. Like, no one even tried talking to me. Have you ever been isolated for an entire year? It was pretty boring.

But you don’t want to hear about that.

I have good news! Your deed has transferred, and so you are now the proud owner of your own store.

I mean, you already were, but now officially in the Corporate Civilizations. You’ll be receiving the deed momentarily. Good luck!

You’ll need it.

…

I mean, you won’t.

…

Uh, this is awkward. I wish I could start over. Or wipe your memory.

All right bye.

“What the—” Any questions were forestalled by both the letter I’d just read and the one in my hand disappearing inside of me.

I didn’t have long to be horrified by this as yet another message appeared.

This one looked to be on slightly fancier paper.

The voice that spoke this time sounded like the first voice rather than the young, enthusiastic one.

Deed to Whitehall’s BBC: Books, Bikes, and Coffee

Level 1 Bookseller

Level 5 Bike Repair

Level 4 Bike Rental

Level 1 Bike Retailer

Level 6 Scooter Rental

Level 2 Scooter Retailer

Level 8 Refreshments

Level 1 Eatery

Level 3 Lounge

Level 2 Library

Type: Independent

Owner: Noah Whitehall

Employees: Noah Whitehall

Volunteers: Bob Huxley, Emma Huxley

“Hey, wait, no. It’s bikes, coffee, and books!”

Would you like to take on the corporate profession of [Merchant]?

(Note: profession of [Merchant] required to keep ownership of [Whitehall’s BBC])

Corporate profession? I wondered, and another message appeared.

Noah Whitehall

Rank: Unranked

Level: 0

Profession: None

Hobby: None

I barely had time to read it before yet another message appeared.

You must accept profession of [Merchant] within the next 10 seconds to keep ownership of [Whitehall’s BBC].

If you do not, you will be automatically assigned the profession of [Fodder]. This assignment will be irrevocable.

“Yes!” I blurted. “Make me a merchant!” Fodder did not sound promising. And I didn’t want to lose my store.

Thank you. Your corporate profession is now [Merchant].

[Whitehall’s BBC] corporate classification has been converted.

Licenses: reading material; equipment repair; equipment rental; equipment sale; eatery; refreshments; potions, drugs, and enhancements.

New classification: Superstore

Updated Deed to Whitehall’s BBC: Books, Bikes, and Coffee

Level 3 Superstore

Type: Independent

Owner: Noah Whitehall

Employees: Noah Whitehall

Volunteers: Bob Huxley, Emma Huxley

Congratulations on your new classification! You’re moving up in your civ!

Please consider a hobby. You have 7 days to choose. If you do not, you will be automatically assigned the hobby of [Fodder].

“Fodder as a hobby?”

“What is that?” Bob asked.

“Nothing. Sorry, I was talking to the… well, I don’t know. System three-one-whatever.”

He shook his head. “No, listen.” He paused so I could. “You hear that?”

“I don’t…” I began, but then I did. A pattering. Intermittent at first, but growing steadier.

“Crickey!” Bob shouted, pointing out the large, dirty front window of my store. “It’s raining… something.”

“Hail?”

“That’s no hail.”

We approached the window.

“Have I gone daft, or are those playing cards?” Bob asked.

Whatever they were seemed to break apart or melt or simply get absorbed into the ground after hitting it, making it hard for me to get a good look at them. Definitely card-shaped though.

“Uh, they look—”

The patter became a downpour and from somewhere nearby glass shattered and screaming erupted and the world went prismatic from the onslaught of cards.

“Run for cover!” Bob shouted, doing just that.

‌

∎ ∎ ∎

“Is he dead?” Bob asked.

The downpour had stopped and we’d crawled out from under the table we’d taken cover under to observe the aftermath of whatever had just happened.

The cards that had rained down didn’t seem to have gotten inside the shop, the dirty old window up front having held up to the assault.

Even the bikes and scooters on display in front of the store seemed undamaged. Though not, as I would later learn, unchanged.

I didn’t see a single sign that a storm of cards had just rained down onto the world. The few cars parked within view appeared undamaged as well, and I wondered where the sound of shattering glass and screaming had come from.

Bob pressed his face against the glass to peer outside.

“That’s not a good idea,” I warned.

“There’s a bloke out there. On the pavement outside the door. He must have been trying to make it inside. Don’t recognize him.”

I didn’t get as close as Bob, but close enough to see the man.

I didn’t see any injuries, but I also couldn’t tell if he was breathing. “He might be dead.”

“You should go check,” Bob suggested.

“Yeah, I’ll pass.”

“Mate, we can’t just leave him out there.”

I sighed. He was right. If that were me, I’d want someone to at least attempt to rescue me.

Another message appeared, this one in my head, that second voice speaking as words appeared, far less enthusiastically this time.

Hey there, it’s me again. System 3121-111.

I, uh, may have bungled the introduction of magic a bit. Didn’t mean for the cards to rain down like that.

Sorry about that. This is my first time.

But, hey, look on the bright side, you have magic now! Yay!

Providence! A happy accident!

To those of you who got hit by cards and corrupted… uh, my bad.

But just think of it as a noble sacrifice.

Actually, that’s a great idea.

I’ve just created a [Hero Board] listing all of those who were corrupted. Or is Martyr Board more accurate?

Hm, no matter. Anyway, now that I think about it, I might as well let any prospector get on the [Hero Board].

So go out there and fight so I can measure you and figure out how to rank you. They’ll be prizes! I’m not sure what yet. I’ll figure something out.

Good luck, and talk to you soon.

Peace out.

Oh, I like that. Peace System. System Peace? Word order’s a funny thing.

…

I’ll work on it.

Later.

Oh yeah, and it’s safe to go outside now. No more magical monsoons. So, don’t be boring and hide indoors.

As the message faded and my eyes returned to the man outside, new information wormed its way into my consciousness like an intrusive thought.

Corrupted Human

Rank: Copper

Level: 1

“I guess he’s alive,” I said. With the information came the sense of something. I could tell not only that he was alive, but also that he was more powerful than I was. I didn’t even really need to read the text, as I could somehow feel the information. This invasion into my thoughts didn’t exactly make me eager to trust any information it gave me.

“Corrupted,” Bob muttered. “That sounds less than promising.”

I nodded in agreement.

We stood there for a bit in stunned silence.

From the corner of my eye I saw Bob look over at me.

I knew what he was thinking.

I sighed. “Come on then,” I said, “let’s go see if he’s okay.”