Sunday

The next morning, Karl cooked an omelet, checked the news, tried and failed to get just about anywhere online, and went back to reading help files on his...implant? Psychic channel? Whatever.

Trying to practice his dexterity, he fiddled with some old card tricks but didn't get very far. He had more fun twirling a yardstick between his fingers. He attempted an old trick with balancing pennies on his elbow and then trying to catch them, but generally just succeeded in making a huge mess all over the floor and laughing at himself. It felt as if he had pulled a muscle at one point, but fortunately the pain faded within a few minutes, so probably not.

After that, he blew dust off his old synthesizer keyboard, and with one finger (and several tries) plinked out the melody to 'Heart and Soul'. Then he played it again with tiny variations. And again. And again. It became a game to see how many times he could play the melody without repeating his exact pattern once. By the time he stopped, he'd gotten into some complicated chords just by random experimenting with what sounded good. His hands were starting to ache, though, which was why he'd given up piano in the first place.

He started feeling some pain in the side of his jaw and rubbed at it with his fingers. It took him a while to figure out what hurt. Finally he realized that his facial muscles were getting tired from smiling so much.

He stopped and stared off into space, and abruptly found himself with tears in his eyes. When did my face forget how to smile? How long has it been? Jane my love, I miss you so much. He realized that Jane would have been gleefully happy that he was smiling, which made the tears spill down his cheeks. I miss you so much. He let himself mourn for a little while, then pulled himself together.

He cleared his throat and spoke aloud. “Well.” He took a breath and tried again. “Well. It seems I'm really going to live a bit before I die.” He remembered an old quote from...Who was it? Churchill? Chamberlain? Cromwell! That was it.

“Depend upon it, Sir. When a man is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully.”

* *

Karl decided to act on the assumption that he had two days to live. That meant ice cream and candy bars, of course! Unfortunately he was out of ice cream and wasn't sure he should take the risk of going out for some. Instead he savored a candy bar he'd gotten at the gas-mart. It made a good dessert after lunch.

He did some stretches and realized that he didn't hurt as much as he expected to. He decided to go for another walk. This time he headed in the other direction, and turned down Walnut Street. There wasn't much but homes along this road, full of neighbors he had never gotten around to meeting, because he had been so fixated on taking care of Jane. A bit late to hold a housewarming now, I suppose.

In front of one house he saw a young boy lying on the grass, staring straight up, and shouting a stream of things like, “help chocolate! Help candy! Help Superman! Help superpowers! Help Dasher! Help Dancer! Help Donner...”

Karl smiled and kept walking. He walked until he felt pretty tired, then turned around and promptly headed back with no resting. Gotta push that willpower and endurance, he goaded himself.

As he approached the same house, the boy was now sitting up and watching him. “Are you okay?” the boy called.

Karl raised an eyebrow. “I'm fine, thanks.” He kept on walking.

“Mom says nobody's supposed to leave home.”

“Your mom's right.”

“How come you're not home?”

“I got bored.”

“Mom says you might die if you're wandering around.”

“She's probably right,” he called over his shoulder.

“So why are you?”

“Because I'm old enough. Do what your Mom says.” He glanced over his shoulder with an afterthought. “Good luck on Tuesday!”

“Thank you! You too!” The boy hollered after him.

He faintly heard a woman's muffled voice shouting, “Timmy!?” and smiled. Families were a good thing. He'd thought he'd have kids, once upon a time. So had Jane; but it wasn't in the cards. He knew he'd missed out on a lot in life that way, but he'd gained lots more time and money and energy in exchange, which they had enjoyed as a couple for as long as it lasted.

Melancholy made him feel tired, but Karl forced himself to keep walking and walking. He kept expecting pain from yesterday's walk, but there was no sign of it, for which he was grateful. He appeared to be determined to give aches and pains another go, with the effort he was putting in. He puttered with the interface to pass the time.

This thing would be a lot more useful if they'd tell us what to study before the test, he mused. He considered again the idea of combat. What would I even do? He didn't own a gun. He might have a baseball bat lying around. He could use a garbage can lid as a shield, he supposed. He didn't exactly have a bastard sword around the house, or a bow and arrow, if things were going to be like that sort of game. Maybe he could cast spells like a wizard. That would probably suit him best. But how could I practice? Karl snorted, imagining himself shouting “Bippity boppity boo” and dog Latin and anything else that came to mind. Maybe to amuse himself at home later.

By the time he got back to the house, there was very little he could reach online, and the news was reporting panic. Lots of people were traveling, defying the shelter in place order, trying to get home to their families.

He'd gotten another point of endurance. It was very possible that average values were fifty or a hundred and he was improving so rapidly because he was in single digits when he started. There was just no way to tell. He knew he was nowhere near an athlete or even someone in decent shape. All he could tell was that he was, presumably, improving.

Monday

Karl tried to think of what he could still do to prepare. Gather equipment, sure, but what kind? Gather where? Did he have to have equipment actually on him? Would his house be safe? His property? Would he be running for his life, or hunkering down at home?

He spent part of the day scrounging up bags, and packing them with assortments of things, so that if he found himself grabbing one bag and running, he could choose the best one for whatever he found. Would it suddenly be hot? Cold?

Again he wondered whether he should have gotten a gun. He had never owned one, though he didn't have anything against them. He'd only seen a black bear on the property that one time since moving in, so didn't feel the need. He knew the basics of gun safety, but between paperwork hassles and the effort to find a place open, go there, buy a gun, and get back home, the risk seemed too high. The laws of nature were going to change. Who knew whether guns would even work anymore?

As far as weapons went, he found a one inch diameter wood dowel, three feet long, which would make a decent improvised club but for the lack of a grip or handle. He found a length of steel pipe that would be even better but it felt much too heavy for him to wield properly.

For the third day in a row he went for a walk, choosing Lake Street this time. He might as well learn the neighborhood a little. He passed a couple of shops that were closed up. He saw someone biking at high speed, but no one else on the road. Maybe he should have gotten a bike? He winced at the thought of a spill at his age and reconsidered. He looked at the hardware store, which was shuttered and dark. Probably some good things in there he should have gotten. Too late now. He wondered if overnight package delivery still worked during an apocalypse.

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He didn't think he was going to get another point of endurance, given the way he pushed himself without anything happening. It was noticeably easier to walk, so maybe he should jog? No, he was too old and brittle for that. He wouldn't want to get hurt and strand himself a mile from home the day before the world ended.

Tuesday, T-2 Hours

The next day Karl was as ready as he knew how to be. Late in the morning, he got a new message.

System Message: Welcome inhabitant Sol-3, to the System. You natural laws are now being reset to norm. You are allowed to select three items that convert to System grade. These items will be restricted by power level, so you can find some that will not convert now. Try again later when you are more powerful and you may succeed.

Sol-3 is granted a period of one Sol-3 year to adapt to the system. At that point travel will be allowed to and off of Sol-3. Expect a period of turbulence on Sol-3 until this time period expires. The System will be make changes, additions, and subtractions to the world during this time. New creatures will challenge personal skills, old creatures may change to do the same. Collect resources and experience to gain strength and ensure survival.

Some will be strong enough to form Safe Zones. Within these Safe Zones you may find shops to help you acquire additional System equipment. This is encouraged if you wish to survive and thrive. New and mutated creatures will not spawn in these Safe Zones, but as a human once said, humans are the most dangerous animal. While creatures will not appear in these Safe Zones, beware your fellow man within them.

Your planet is now linked to the entertainment network of the System and you may find yourself watched and gaining renown or notoriety. Infamous subjects are even more interesting to watch than those who are famous, more unpredictable and more entertaining. Good luck on your adaptation to the System!

Karl stared at the message. Inability to distinguish 'you' and 'your', yet a use of idiom. The language use was erratic. There was so much to process! Safe Zones sounded important. All of it sounded important. But before he could dig in to it, another message popped up.

System Message: You can now claim your three items to be upgraded to System. You are allowed one clothing/armor, one weapon/tool, and one miscellaneous item to upgraded. You will receive a disallowing message if you try to upgrade something stronger than allowed at you current power. You are given two hours to complete these claims. Any unclaimed claims at the end of this time period will be lost.

Karl blew out his cheeks in exasperation. They might have said so earlier! He took a breath. One clothing/armor. I hope the clothes I am wearing work automatically and don't cost an allowance. He wondered what 'upgraded' actually meant, and how that would compare to things that were not.

A coat, he decided. Closest thing to armor I have, which isn't very. He went and rummaged through the closets, re-examining items he had already looked over but now with an eye to toughness, not warmth. He eventually decided on a trench coat that he almost never wore since he'd gotten a stain on it. He put it on to make sure it still fit, then thought about other items. Is that one item or one set of items? Quickly he put on his sturdiest boots and a tough pair of gardening gloves too. Maybe a hat? He didn't have a good choice of one, but grabbed a winter hat. If it's too hot, nothing says I can't take it off later.

“Okay,” he said aloud. “All this is my armor I want to claim. Now how do I...?” A notification popped up:

Too much items.

He took off the hat and tossed it aside. “Coat, boots and gloves. All this is my armor.” A golden glow seemed to encase him for a moment. No, not him—the items mentioned. When it faded, Karl flexed his hands and wiggled his toes. Did that...? He walked over to a mirror.

All of the items seemed to have changed shape to fit him better. The boots were actually more comfortable than before, and still looked tough. The gloves were closer to leather gauntlets now. He couldn't really tell about the coat, but it felt a bit heavier and the stain on the lapel had vanished.

He shook his head. “Well, I guess that's one down.” He looked back over the last message. One weapon/tool. He went back and stared at his makeshift weapons choices. Unless upgrading turns it into Excalibur, I don't see that being much help. What kind of tool should I choose?

He considered his laptop, but who knew if there would be electricity? His graphing calculator, maybe? He wondered how the System would 'upgrade' a slide rule. Or a Swiss Army knife. He checked the clock. He'd already used almost half an hour. He wanted to study the main message but didn't want to run out of time.

If only I had a...wait. Karl turned and hurried to the garage, and hunted for a minute. An ice chopper? Or a shovel? He picked each of them up and hefted them, considering. The ice chopper had a smooth wooden handle and a solid, flat piece of iron on the end, but it was almost too heavy and awkward for him to use as a weapon. He glanced over at the trash cans and mentally slapped himself. I forgot to try to claim the lid as a shield.

Full of misgivings, he chose the ice chopper as his weapon. It glowed, then shortened by almost a foot. The sharp end now had a wicked gleam to it. The shaft was roughened somehow, which made it easier to grip with his gloves. Looking at the edge, he considered testing it with his finger and then thought better of it. He found an old cardboard box, and with a single swipe cut a razor sharp slice all the way through it.

Okay then. Careful with that. Wish I had a scabbard; it might cut up anything I lean it against or on.

Karl looked at himself. This is ridiculous. Why am I even gearing up? I'll never survive my first fight. Anybody with a gun or even a bow and arrow can take me out. This whole situation is insane.

He went back in to the house, taking the trash can lid with him. One miscellaneous item... He abruptly checked that his wedding ring was still securely on his finger. After considering, he picked up his Swiss Army knife, and attempted to claim it as miscellaneous.

Item is weapon/tool.

So much for that. Karl considered his water bottle, but how would you 'upgrade' a water bottle, anyway? He looked over the assortment of items he had collected, trying to figure out what single item he would want an improved version of. He considered a notebook and pens. He wondered if he could get a magical grimoire if he pulled a thick book of the occult off the shelves of his library, or if he'd just get a fancy leather bound book of hogwash. Then he picked out a headlamp, clicked it on and off to see if it worked, and nodded.

“I claim this light.” It glowed for a moment, then changed. Karl looked it over in fascination. It was now seamless, and he wasn't sure what it was made out of now. Tapping it with a finger, it seemed tougher than before. He checked that it fit on his head, and it was more comfortable and better secured than he remembered. Finally he turned it on and was impressed by the bright beam; twisting it adjusted its spread.

Well, that's that. He checked the clock. There was over an hour left. Time to study that message! New creatures will challenge personal skills. Well, that didn't sound ominous at all. Old creatures may change to do the same. Collect resources and experience to gain strength and ensure survival. Karl stared. Survival. This really is looking more and more like a game. He read the rest of the message again. Son of a bitch. These damned aliens really were going to use Earth as entertainment! It sounded like gladiator combat or something. Spawning? Safe Zone. How do I make a safe zone?

Karl slumped into his easy chair. It is a game. A life or death combat game, with humans performing for alien entertainment. And in a year, they'll be able to come here, what, on safari? He considered. But if it is a game, it has to be playable. Humans have to have a chance against the creatures, for it to be entertaining. And there are things to collect: resources and experience, just like in a game. And a store to buy things, it said.

Is this our punishment? Aliens looked at how humans chose to spend their time, and watched first person shooter games and online adventure games or whatever and decided that was what we wanted?

Karl wondered what God thought of all this. Was this His doing? His will? Or was this something to stand against and fight? Against this powerful and evil System, would God take a hand and help His children?

Jane...I might see you soon, my love. I don't know what this new world holds.

A System notification popped up that there were ten minutes remaining. Karl used the bathroom and brushed his teeth. He stuck a candy bar in one pocket, and, since it still seemed okay, the Swiss Army knife in another. He looked over his gear on the table.

The System gave another notification that there were five minutes remaining. Karl concentrated on making sure notifications didn't block his view until he was ready for them. He shrank all his messages as much as he could and stuck them in a corner of his vision. Then at the last minute, on some impulse, he went around and closed all the doors in the house and checked the locks. He stood, holding his upgraded ice chopper, a backpack over one shoulder, waiting.

System Message: Common spawns now commencing. Increase power by destroying spawns or other means. Good Luck!

The electricity cut out at that moment. The solar panels and batteries failed to kick in like they were supposed to. The sudden silence from nearly all the devices in the house was ominous. Only the mechanical grandfather clock kept ticking.

Here we go.