I wait on the bed for an hour, twiddling my thumbs and worrying. What would they look like? Would they scoff upon seeing me? I try to stand and pace around the room, but the pressure only rekindled the pain in my leg. I sat down and healed it.

A little before noon, three loud knocks echo on the door. I push myself off the bed and limp to the door.

“Mr. Able?”

“Coming,” I say.

I undo the deadbolt and open the door. The man standing there offers a hand, and I shake it as he enters; carrying a briefcase, and wearing a black Class A with blue slacks. His dark hair is done neatly and shines slightly from the hairspray. His shoes sparkle, and I catch the glimpse of a holster on his side. Three golden chevrons point skyward on his collar, and a plastic square over his left chest says in bright white bold letters, “Ortega.”

“Can I take a seat?” He motions to the chair on the other side of the room.

“Of course.”

I hurry in front of him and shove the empty pizza box into an empty bag.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re one of the chosen?”

His black eyes scan me, disappointingly. I feel a rush of embarrassment.

“Yes.”

He sighs and forces a smile.

“What happened to your leg?”

“Ah. Magic blowback.”

“Ah, hold up.”

He sets the briefcase down on the table and takes a seat. He pulls out a few sheets of paper and pulls a pen from the box-like case.

“Now you can use magic?”

“Yes.”

“Like, actual magic?”

“Yes.”

“Is that your primary method of fighting?”

“I suppose.”

“Suppose?”

“Well, I’ve used swords, daggers, spears, knives. My fists...”

“You?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of magic can you use?”

“Elemental magics and I can heal.”

“Heal?”

“Yes.”

His eye darts to my leg.

“Really?”

I roll my eyes and fetch the kris on the end table, and draw it from its scabbard. I draw in a sharp breath and draw the blade across my palm. Blood flows freely down my arm. I see him reach for his holster as I show him the weeping wound on my hand.

“By the light of Yahweh, God of Gods, King of Kings.”

I direct the mana into my hand and the wound scabs over.

I repeat it, and it seals into a scar.

“See?”

He nods and writes it down.

“So you’d consider yourself primarily a magic user?”

“Yes.”

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I hobble to the bed and take a seat.

“Now according to the Messengers; you all have something that helps you in your development. What’s your’s?”

“Well, I level up.”

“Like a game?”

“Yes. Exactly like a game. According to them, it's the most popular.”

“What’s your, ‘device,’ or whatever? All they said is that you’re given something to make such a thing possible.”

I motion to the crystalline bracelet on my arm.

“I call it the Shard.”

“Shard?”

“Yes. It introduced itself as a Shard of the Bifrost. From like Norse mythology.”

“And it speaks to you?”

“In text.”

He clears his throat.

“Apologies, I was just sating my own personal curiosity. Now, what do you know of project Sisyphus?”

“Nothing.”

“Do you know of the myth of Sisyphus?”

“Isn’t he the guy who pushed the rock?”

“Yes. He’s the Titan damned by Olympus to push the boulder up a hill for all eternity. Only to watch it roll down to the bottom whenever he stopped. That’s where our name comes from.”

“An impossible task.”

“Yes.”

I nod.

“It is an impossible task. Do you know how many doors there are?”

“We do not. All we know is that it is currently in the range of 1.1 Trillion worldwide.”

“Does that include the oceans?”

“Yes. We have confirmed that there are Doors in and over the oceans as well. Only the air seems to be safe.”

“So...is there a plan? Because I only see extinction coming from this.” I tell him plainly.

“There is a plan.”

He pulls a map from the briefcase and unfurls it on the table, I hobble over to him to look at it. It’s a map of the United States. Circles are drawn periodically across it. Three on the west coast, two on the Gulf of Mexico. Three in the center of the country, two along the Mississippi, and three on the East Coast; ranging from the middle of Connecticut to the keys of Florida. One of the circles overlaps with xville, I notice, and stretches all the way to the central coastal mountain ranges, down to Pismo. Lines connect each of these circles, and it seems to me, like a large spider’s web.

“Is this...”

“These circles are where people will be relocated.” He said. “Luckily, we’re already within one of the circles. This will be one of the primary agricultural areas for the new United States.” He said. “Walls will be set up all around the circumference, and patrols will be sent out every now and then to make sure that the waterways and the roadways are clear.”

“Is it the same for every circle?”

“Yes. Though each zone will have a specialty. Most movement between the Zones will be done by air, as I’m sure you already know, the roads will be too dangerous. At least until we reclaim them.”

I drum my fingers across my leg and pull up the backpack that I had brought up with me.

“That reminds me of something.”

“What?”

“In the other world, the city that I’ve been in is huge. Hundreds of miles across, at least.”

I pull the rolled-up map out and hand it to him.

“Don’t you think they had the same idea?”

“It’s possible.”

He unrolls the map and looks it over.

“This looks like a siege map.”

“Probably is. Old siege camps were scattered around the city walls.”

“Can I keep this? Want to show my superiors.”

“Yes, of course.”

He sets the map to the side.

“Now, what we, the US government want from you is to join us. Join us in clearing out these circles. Wouldn’t that be more manageable than clearing out all of them?”

I nod. It makes sense. Perhaps this was the only way to go about it. Certainly, it was better than anything I had thought of.

“I’ll agree,” I say. “I’ll join the corps. What do you need me to do?”

Sargent Ortega smiles and pulls out a packet from the briefcase and hands it over to me.

“Read it over, and give it a sign. This part lists your duties, your responsibilities, and your privileges; including, and not limited to, exemption from charges of weapon possession, loitering, trespassing, and the like; also exemption from all taxes, so you can go about your duties without fear of the local authorities.”

“I’ll have to report the money I earn from the doors weekly?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Combat any inflationary problems that might arise. The Federal Reserve and the US treasury has agreed to burn the amount specified in bills.”

“Ah. I suppose that makes sense.”

I read further.

“I can sell things that I bring back from Efra?”

“Yes. Some will be used for R&D, and some will be melted down to be used as scrap. Depends.”

I set the contract on my lap and fish around in my backpack and pull out the shoebox full of rings. Gold, and silver.

“How much could I get for these?” I had them over.

“We’ll get them tested. Payment will be deposited in your bank account, do you have a bank account?”

I shake my head.

“We’ll set you up with one.” He says. “Any preferences?”

I shake my head again. Clio crawls out from under the bed and hops on the mattress next to me.

“Alright. We’ll mail you the card and your information.”

I pick the contract back up and read through it. I sign where I’m asked, put down the information required, and hand it back.

“Alright. Thank you.” He sets the contract into the briefcase and hands me a card.

“If you run into any trouble with the law before we finish briefing them, hand them this. It has my personal number, and I will make sure to inform them of what you’re doing.”

“Ah, alright.”

“Before I head out, do you need anything?” He glances around the room, “I’m sure the person on the other end of the line told you that the US government will accommodate you.”

“Anything?”

“Aside from a warhead, yes.” He chuckles.

“How about a house, with a fireplace, and some land?”

“Here in town?”

Ortega lingers by the door.

“Yes,” I say after some length. “Yes.”

“Alright. We’ll have a house and a fully furnished house, and some land ready for you within the next couple of days. We’ll contact you with the address, and someone will be waiting for you outside of the property with a key.”

I want to show my mother and father, and brother that I’m not the worthless dredge of a human they think I am. Ortega turns around and leaves. My heart thumps again. The fear I had about going back flees. I want to show the world that my existence wasn’t a sin.