Chapter 5
Elimination - Type: Culling
“Holy shit!”
Dave just fucking exploded. Like a human water balloon filled with warm soup. My ears are ringing, my head is spinning, and my shoes—oh god, my shoes—are covered in what used to be Dave. A sticky, crimson sludge coats my pants up to the knees, clinging to the fabric in a way that tells me this shit is never coming out.
The break room smells like copper and bile. I think I might throw up. My stomach lurches and a sour burn runs up my throat like acid mixed with the afterburn of gas station coffee.
My brain is stuck in a feedback loop, trying to process what just happened, but there’s no rational pathway to follow. One second, Dave was standing there, sweaty and scared. The next, boom—he’s repainting the walls with his insides.
I stumble back, nearly slipping on a chunk of something that I absolutely refuse to identify, and slap my hand against the wall to steady myself. My heart is jackhammering against my ribs, my breathing fast and shallow.
I shove my phone into my pocket—because for some goddamn reason, I still have it in my hand, like checking the news is going to help me make sense of any of this—and force my legs to move. One slow, careful step. Then another.
Side-stepping around the meaty puddle formerly known as Dave, I push open the break room door and power-walk straight toward the employee bathroom at the back of the store.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…!” I mutter under my breath, feeling the residual warmth of Dave’s bodily fluids soaking through my pants. My hands are shaking, my pulse a wild, unsteady thing in my throat.
I have no idea what the hell is happening.
All I know is that Dave exploded, and I’m pretty sure I might be next.
I slam the bathroom door shut behind me, twisting the lock with hands that won’t stop shaking. The tiny, single-use restroom is as unremarkable as ever—stained linoleum, fluorescent lighting that buzzes faintly, the faint scent of industrial cleaner. For once, the dull familiarity is almost comforting.
Almost.
My reflection in the bathroom mirror greets me. Blue eyes looking slightly sunken, short dark hair wild, and a spray of red right across my face. I look crazy, I ironically think as I might actually be losing my mind.
I stagger to the sink and crank the faucet. Cold water rushes out, and I splash it onto my face, scrubbing at the sticky specks of blood clinging to my skin. The water turns pink in the basin, swirling down the drain as I grab a handful of paper towels and scrub at my cheeks. My reflection stares back at me, pale and wide-eyed, lips pressed into a thin line. “Okay, slightly less crazy looking,” I mumble.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Get it together, Joe.
Then I feel it—a pulsing in my mind, soft and rhythmic, like a cell phone notification buzzing on vibrate.
I freeze, my hands still gripping the edge of the sink. The sensation is . . . wrong. Like something foreign, something that shouldn’t be there.
No. No, no, no. That was just a dream. The whole thing—the System, the asshole with the snakes, the weird tutorial bullshit. It wasn’t real. It can’t be real. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to will away the feeling and the memories. Then, as though in response, the pulse echoes in my mind.
Cautiously, heart pounding, I focus on the sensation. It feels . . . responsive? Expectant. Like it’s waiting for me to respond.
I open my eyes. My mouth is dry. My hands tremble as I take a step back from the sink, suddenly afraid of my own reflection.
“. . . System?” I whisper, half-expecting nothing to happen.
A softly glowing, translucent screen flickers into existence inches from my face.
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
My breath catches as words begin appearing on the screen, typed out in real time.
WELCOME TO THE GOD GAME, PARTICIPANT.
STAGE ONE: TUTORIAL - CLASS SELECTION
[In the First Stage of the God Game, Participants will participate in Quests in order to familiarize themselves with the finer mechanics of the System while growing in strength in preparation for the later Stages of the Game.]
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
OBJECTIVES OF STAGE ONE:
* Obtain the necessary requirements to unlock a Class.
* Select a Class.
CONSEQUENCES FOR FAILING TO COMPLETE OBJECTIVES:
* Elimination from the God Game.
* All access to the System will be locked until the conclusion of the Game.
TIME REMAINING IN STAGE ONE: 364 Days, 14 Hours, 32 Minutes.
Thank you for participating in this Cycle’s Game. May Creation watch over all Participants and bring them success!
My mouth goes dry. I swallow hard, but the lump in my throat doesn’t go away.
The screen vanishes.
I stand there, my reflection staring back at me in the mirror, my brain frantically trying to shove this whole thing into a nice, logical box where it makes sense.
It doesn’t.
Dave exploded.
The System is real.
And I’m in a game I never signed up for.
“Oh, fuck.” The words that escape my lips are ones of resignation. My dad has another says: You can’t always change everything. Sometimes you’ve just got to roll up your sleeves and work with what’s in front of you. My mind was scrambling to come to grips with what was currently in front of it.
The thoughts are only interrupted by another pulse in my mind, another notification screen snapping into existence before me.
New Quest!
Gate Initiation.
[Description: Participant must locate and enter a Gate, successfully clearing the Dungeon within.]
[Note: This Quest is available for a limited time only. The time limit will be randomly determined per Participant.]
[Consequences: Failure to complete this Quest within the Quest’s time limit will result in Elimination of the Participant.]
[Elimination Type: Culling.]
[Rewards: Access to additional menu options.]
Continue?
My breath catches in my throat.
My eyes lock onto three words.
Elimination Type: Culling.
A cold, terrible feeling claws at my gut.
I think of the news headlines. Of Dave. Of the way his face twisted in panic, the way he knew something was happening to him, the way he barely had time to say a damn thing before he exploded. What did he say again? I’m running out of time, and I don’t know what to do.
Elimination. Culling.
A partial picture begins to form in my mind, and I don’t like it one bit.
“Damn it.”
Continue? The neat font blinks at the bottom of the interface floating before me.
“Sure,” I mutter.
Another pulse, and the screen shifts again.
Quest: Gate Initiation. Time Limit: . . .
Three new headers appear beneath the message: Days. Hours. Minutes.
A line of nine reels appear on the interface. Below each word are three digital reels each displaying the number ‘0’, like a goddamned slot machine.
This can’t be serious. This has to be a joke. Or whichever Gods were in charge of this Game had a sick sense of humor. I thought of the smiling man in his throne, watching me fumble my way through the assimilation process for the System. Yeah, that makes sense.
The word appears again, prompting me: Continue?
My heart is hammering now, blood rushing in my ears. I try to focus, but panic is creeping in, clawing up my throat. If I’m right—if those numbers range anywhere from 0 to 9—then someone, somewhere, has already been fucked. I think of the headlines on my phone. Of Dave. No, some unlucky bastards already got royally screwed. That’s what had happened all across he globe. Hundreds of thousands of innocent people were looped into whatever kind of game this was and presented with the same Quest I was. They got minutes, maybe even seconds, to figure all this out before they were blown to pieces.
I picture some poor soul staring at their screen, too frozen to react, while the countdown hit zero. And then—
Pop.
I gag, forcing the thought out of my head.
I don’t have time for this.
I grit my teeth and square my shoulders. It’s too late to be scared. Too late to hesitate. I need to work with what’s in front of me.
I take a deep breath, steadying myself, and command the System to continue. This time the System interface reacts immediately to my thoughts.
All nine panels begin to spin rapidly. And I pray to whatever sick, twisted god is running this Game that I don’t get a zero across the board.
The first number under Days stops: Zero.
The other panels continue to spin.
The second number: Zero.
Panic swells in my chest. I watch, breath held, as the second reel under the word Days slows. It clunks into place.
Zero.
“Shit. No, no, no—” I squeeze my eyes shut for half a second, praying to whatever might be listening that the third reel lands on anything but zero. I’m not much of a gambler, and after the feeling of dread and anxiety coursing through my veins right now, I never will be.
It stops.
Zero.
The bottom drops out of my stomach. I have no days. None.
I barely have time to process that horrifying fact before the first reel under Hours lands on zero almost immediately.
The second number ticks into place: 2.
Then, the third: 3.
I’m numb, and just taking in the visual information feedback. Something beneath the surface might rise to the level of relief but I’m still stunned by the first four zeroes.
The Minutes reels spin for another few seconds before settling on zero, 1, and 4.
I stare in mute horror as the numbers finalize and the screen lights up with a small burst of fanfare.
The reel disappears from the vision, the interface replacing it with a new message accompanied by that increasingly familiar pulse sensation in my mind.
Quest Update!
Quest: Gate Initiation.
[Time Limit for completion of Quest updated to 23 hours, 14 minutes.]
I blink and the message is gone, replaced by an updated description of the Quest.
CURRENT QUESTS:
1. Gate Initiation.
[Description: Participant must locate and enter a Gate, successfully clearing the Dungeon within.]
[Note: This Quest is available for a limited time only.]
[Time Limit: 23 hours, 14 minutes]
[Time Remaining: 23 hours, 13 minutes]
[Consequences: Failure to complete this Quest within the Quest’s time limit will result in Elimination of the Participant.]
[Elimination Type: Culling.]
[Rewards: Access to additional menu options.]
Just under a single day.
A day to find a Gate. A day to complete the Quest.
Or I end up like Dave.