Despite what most people seem to believe, the world is not, in fact, ending; no more than a caterpillar is dying before becoming a butterfly. Now, don't spend too much time thinking about the fact that caterpillars are liquefied to create the butterfly; that's not helpful for anybody. Instead, let's focus on the required cocoon.
In the case of Forest Lake, that cocoon came in the form locally known as 'the Vortex.' A green barrier surrounding and slowly circling around the town, the Vortex brought with it a time loop. See, I don't even have a cocoon analogy for the time loop, so you absolutely don't need to expect any human liquefaction—unless someone tries to leave town, then all bets are off.
Due to events completely beyond anyone's control and utterly unpredictable, the time loop, which started out at a very respectable 12 hours in length, had recently expanded to an impossible 7 days. You can see why this didn't fit in the caterpillar analogy; maybe I could do one about seeds that only sprout during fires or fish in a tank with an automatic feeder.
Now, you might think that, since the world was 'ending,' people would stop showing up to work. But, as I already pointed out, the world wasn't actually ending. While some might get their jollies by arguing the semantics, we can skip that by acknowledging that nobody ever really knows what's happening. So, when unsure who to trust, people will happily make no choice at all. For everyone who chose to carpe their diems, twice as many decided to play 'wait and see.'
Few embody this conservative indecisiveness more than Igor, the assistant manager at FamilyGrocer. Igor, real name Ian, had been trying to quit since he'd first heard a rumor the world was ending. Two years later, he was still awaiting the return of his manager so he could give notice.
Igor didn't know it had been two years, of course; of the four people still in the store, only the stock boy, Leo, had any inkling more time had passed than could be easily explained. And by 'inkling,' I mean he had a timer tracking the number of Years, Months, Days, Hours, and even Minutes since the Vortex had touched down.
At present, it read - 1y 10mo 16d 00:01
It wouldn't be fair to say Leo was too distracted to notice. More than simply being in the unenviable position of having the same bowel movement he'd passed only a week previously, Leo was also swiping his hand through an apparition that made him doubt his very grasp on reality.
Name: Leo
Occupation: Student/Stock Boy
Class: Narrator
Level: 1
HP: ?
AC: +0
Stamina: ?
Spirit: ?
Physical Stats:
Strength:15
Dexterity:14
Constitution:14
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Mental Stats:
Intelligence:10
Wisdom:10
Charisma:12
Trauma:0
Abilities/Skills:
Compass: Create an arrow to a destination in your vision
Quest Log: Share Quests, both your own and others
Quest(s):
[_]Create a party(0/4)
->reward: Inventory: Bag of Shadows(x4)
[_]Rescue Coworker on break(0/1)
->reward: Mini Map
As for Igor, he'd understandably forgotten about the resignation letter in his pocket while staring at a very similar display, with a few key differences that won't become important until later.
The other two overachievers still showing up for work were Angie and Phoebe, neither of whom had given their character sheets a second glance.
In Angie's case, she was in the zone on the claw machine. Having managed to win two prizes with one dollar, Angie'd finally uncovered the smartwatch she'd been eyeing since she took the job three weeks ago, or so she believed. In reality, Angie had won that watch no fewer than 50 times.
She was disappointed each time to discover the box was empty save for a claim ticket. Likely, this time would be no different.
For her part, Phoebe was much too busy furiously ignoring all distractions so she could reach the end of her chapter before her break time was up. Unlike Angie, Phoebe kept a mental list of the things that would require her attention, but she had 3 minutes left of her break, and if she was going to deal with problems, she preferred doing it on the clock.
So rather than acknowledge the strange hologram, Phoebe ignored it. It wasn't any harder to ignore than when certain words on the page glowed slightly blue as if begging for her attention. The only real distraction was the absence of peace and quiet, a necessity for enjoying the utterly predictable book in front of her. How could she enjoy the tense will-they-wont-they of the heiress and the pauper if a clawed monstrosity didn't stop reaching under the break room door like her cat mittens?
Still, Phoebe refused to let that be her problem for another 2 minutes and 43 seconds, even if her hands shook and her eyes remained fixed and unable to read a single word. Certainly, her tears were those of frustration at being interrupted and not from abject terror. If she could only focus on her story, she could worry about everything else later.