Bob had doubled-back to the tub and slowly started picking up his things. Slowly, very slowly, consciously slowly. Almost like he was putting something off. Sometimes he'd drop a thing, all accidental of course, just like one does sometimes, and then you know he'd have to pick up again and, who knows, sometimes you might drop a thing twice. No point in rushing the thing. It was important to keep one's possessions in good order. He was being sensible and forward-thinking.
Finally, after an unreasonable length of time, he'd neatly stacked up all the objects on his bathroom counter. Hm... he frowned at the odd selection. Now where did that system primer get to? Or the jamphlet now that I think about it? Did the system practice petty theft upon its candidates? Was he supposed to have carved out reading time during the challenges? There might have been something in the system logs, but he mostly skimmed those things. It was all flavor text wasn't it?
Well might as well double, triple-check that they aren't somewhere around here on the floor. It's not impossible for them to have teleported inside the cabinets, is it? Nothing impossible any more.
Bob noticed his toothbrush by the sink. And cherries are quite sugary. He wouldn't want to get a cavity would he? He squeezed a dollop of toothpaste and gave his teeth a slow, thorough brush. What? He'd missed a couple sessions hadn't he? What would his dentist say if he slacked off on brushing just because of a system apocalypse. Bob was a better man than that.
"Bob, you have to look. "
"I don't want to."
"You have to. "
"No I don't. I couldn't take it. I can't bear it."
"Listen to me Bob. You're making it harder than it is. You're torturing yourself. The pain of looking is brief. "
"Yes, maybe, but the pain of knowing is forever."
"But so too is the pain of not knowing. "
"Shut up, shut up, I don't want to talk myself. I don't want to be wise or noble or better. I just want George back."
"Open the door Bob. "
Bob let out an animal groan. He knew he had to do it. He covered his eyes, even now trying to delay the moment of discovery. He skulked over to the half-closed door. He grabbed the handle. He waited there. He looked up at the grey, inhuman sky. He sighed out a long breath and torn open the door. It was just as he'd feared, or...
A red backpack? It was like one of those leather satchels primary school kids wear. He hadn't expected that. And there under the backpack, Bob's mouth fell open, his heart fluttered, it couldn’t be true, it was a system trick, a final bitter jest, somewhere someone was laughing at him, but no, but no, it was true, there was no mistaking that shaggy golden behind.
“George,” Bob jumped on the dog. Thank god, thank god. George was napping peacefully on the bathroom threshold just where Bob had left him. Napping? Still napping, Bob wondered, half-annoyed and half-amused. He knew animals had had to go through the initiation too. Had George somehow managed to sleep his way through all four trials? Was that a legitimate strategy?
But all of these questions could wait. George had lazily opened his eyes and turned his head around to see who had disturbed his slumber. Bob grinned at the dog with tears in his eyes. George sat up (inadvertently shoving Bob off and on to the ground in the process) and spun around wagging his tail. He gave two or three short happy barks and snuggled up to lick Bob’s face. “Tastes like mud, I bet.” Thankfully, George didn’t seem to mind.
It was at that point Bob finally noticed the incongruity of the scene. His bathroom opened onto great, green plains with tall, wild grass up to your knees and long, rolling hills. It wasn’t exactly the downtown neighborhood he remembered. That got Bob thinking. His bathroom had been torn out of his house and flown to some random place in a transformed world. If George had been lying a tad further out, he’d probably have been sent away with the living room and not be here with Bob at all. Maybe Bob's luck did count for something after all.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Bob scratched behind George’s ears, and the dog melted down onto Bob’s lap. “We made it through, eh, George? You and me both.” Bob shook his head in wonder, still unable to fully believe in the reality of their reunion. He’d put on a brave face (had he?), but deep down he’d thought he'd probably lost the dog.
“George, I really have no idea how you did it.” The dog purred as Bob continue to stroke his head. “I mean, like, how do you beat up that boar? With those nasty tusks." Bob gestured little pointy fangs on either side of his mouth. No answer from the dog. "Or the casino? I didn't know you could play roulette." No answer from the dog. "I suppose the system must have some way of communicating its intent to non-literate life forms,” Bob mused, “that pigeon sure seemed to know what he was doing.”
Bob continued to look hopefully at the dog, as though in their time apart George might somehow have learned the trick of human speech and be about to embark on a rich and thrilling narrative of his adventures. The real George, unfortunately, was already starting to fall into another nap.
Dogs seem to have an infinite capacity for sleep. Well, all’s well that ends well. Bob looked down at the dog in his arms. He’d missed that face. Something about George’s sleepy yawn and fluffy warmth was tonic to Bob’s soul. Rain started tripping down, a gentle pitter-patter at first, but soon escalating into a full on downpour. "Why did they have to take my roof?"
Bob did a quick survey of his surroundings. No shelter in sight. "Guess we’ll just get wet, boy." He scooched up against the wall and stretched out his legs, the dog nestling his head in Bob’s lap. Bob gained a new appreciation for his cloak when he discovered that it was completely waterproof. Nothing like system-craftsmanship. He popped on the hood and wrapped the cloak over himself and George. It was peaceful, peaceful and quietly comfortable, the two of them sitting there, lightning rumbling far away and the beating rain sliding off Bob’s cloak.
"So George, what should we do now?"
Bob wondered for a while what their new life together might be like. Stranded all alone in an empty grassland with no food, water or electricity. "No, not alone," Bob smiled, looking at that dog face snoring contently. He was strangely cheerful. He felt like he was better prepared and in better company than he’d been for any of the four challenges. And finally he was free from the shadow of semi-impossible, system-imposed labors.
Yes, they were both free. They'd both survived. Bob couldn't believe it. He couldn't keep his smile under control, it just kept breaking out onto his face. This here is what they call a miracle. He gazed down at the dog, his brown nose wrinkling and unwrinkling with each calm, slow breath. He felt the dog's comfortable weight on his lap.
"I missed you George. I never thought I'd miss you quite so much. But I did. I really did."
He ran his fingers through George's soft, white fur, as George sighed contentedly, lost in happy dreams. Bob had realized what was really important. He didn't want anything more to do with the system. He wanted to live somewhere quiet with his dog. He didn't want to be afraid anymore. He didn't want to have to wake up and wonder whether George would be lying there beside him. Peace and quiet. Life was enough for Bob, he'd decided. He didn't have to be a legend. He just wanted to get by. The system be damned.
Bob was starting to get drowsy himself. George had the right idea. Bob could use a good, long sleep about now. He didn't think he'd ever been more tired in his life. Bob folded up a portion of his cloak to act as a pillow. He turned his head and leaned back against the bathroom wall. It wasn't comfortable per se, but Bob could probably have fallen asleep standing up. Hours and hours of an adrenaline-high left a man drained to his core.
He'd just gotten cozy, when he caught sight of a couple system notifications piled up in the corner of his vision. He'd overlooked them in his fear-turned-joy at seeing George. He wondered what they said. They intrigued him a little. But no, he'd deal with them in the morning. Self-discipline and all.
Bob closed his eyes and waited. Where had that drowsiness of his gone? Sleep seemed to have been delayed somewhere. Maybe he'd missed his train or something. Bob waited semi-patiently. But the trains must not be running. Not a sign of sleep on the horizon. He’d just glance at those messages, eh? While he waited and all. Call it a bad habit from a history of smartphone addiction. It couldn't hurt could it?
"Bob... What happened to self-discipline? I thought you didn't want anything more to do with the system. You should go to sleep."
"I can't go to sleep without knowing what the notification is. I keep guessing what it might be. It's distracting me. It's the reason I can't fall asleep. I have to look."
"No you don't. At least not today, not right now. "
"The pain of looking is brief."
"I can't believe you used that phrase against me."
Aha, Bob clicked on the message. The familiar, translucent popup appeared. Bob read the message and groaned to himself.
> Quest: D Grade Evolution (World)
>
>
> Reach level 10 and evolve to D grade
>
> Time limit - one week
>
>
> Current highest leveled sentient: 3
>
> Remaining Time: 06:23:38:43
>
>
> Reward: None
>
> Penalty: World Recycling
Bob wished he hadn’t opened the message. He couldn't understand why he didn't listen to himself more. He gave such good advice all the time. Bob reckoned he’d have a good deal harder time falling asleep now. He decided not to view the remaining messages. The fire teaches best.