The tap of a pen. A desk phone’s sharp ring, a practiced response. Hushed chatter. A printer’s thrum, the soft tick of someone’s clock, clicks and clacks from countless keyboards. The sounds were vaguely nostalgic to Alex.
He blinked in confusion.
Wait, he was alive? How did he– oh–
Lightheaded, he collapsed back onto the chair he’d risen from. His limbs were weak and his vision teetered on darkness, though the latter was slowly fading. Was he still injured?
Strange, I can’t see my HP bar.
“Hey, Alex,” Someone poked their head in from behind a wall, “You look like you could use a Monster.”
A monster. Alex tried to find his sword, jumping from his seat. “Where—” The man placed an ominous can in front of him.
“I’m on my sixth myself… too bad we’re not paid by the hour eh?” the man half chuckled and half writhed as he swiveled back behind the wall.
Wait, not a wall.
Alex’s horror grew. No… It was a cubicle. Not just that, it was a whole row of them, a whole room, an entire–
Oh god, this is an office, isn’t it?
And it was with a sinking feeling in his gut that Alex realized exactly where he was. He slunk down onto his chair and closed his eyes, letting the ringing sound permeate his brain. Three rings. You were supposed to let the phones ring thrice before you answered; not too desperate, not too uncaring, standard call center procedure.
But how though? Am I being shown a dream? Is this some kind of torture?
Or… had he survived?
No. Not even that would explain his current scenario. Not to mention, while his memory had been hazy in those final moments, he’d literally felt his health dip below 1%, and unless Camilla was secretly a [Saintess]...
Perhaps I’m walking around as her puppet, and this is the endless nightmare I have to suffer.
Alex shuddered at the thought.
He ran his mind in circles trying to find the answer but there was no reasonable explanation for this. Even if this was real and integration with the core had worked, he would've just gone back to the beginning of that fight, right? No, he should be dead. He’d literally felt his soul go somewhere after death—where it was supposed to, maybe. And yet here he was, here of all places. Here and now.
Absent-mindedly, he sunk into his chair and let everything seep in. He cracked open the monster and—too tired to form thoughts—let his eyes glaze over, and eventually close. They stayed that way for a short time, his mind far away, mulling over everything that happened. It was a shallow thing, his attention slipping off every subject as though his brain knew it wouldn’t gleam more from a deeper inspection. It looked at it all through a distant, foggy lens. The deaths of his party members, Camilla’s revelation about the core, those final notifications before his end, and finally, that blissful moment where he’d been in full unity with his sword. His mind lingered there longer than anywhere else, too confounded to conjure feelings, just stuck in the memory.
For a time.
“—Hello! Thank you for calling HKR Software! How can I…”
Another ring came from a cubicle to his left. Then behind.
Lovely.
He peered at his monitor. It was overtaken by spreadsheets and graphs, split between many tabs. They were data points for his reference; unrealistic projections for the company and quotas that veered on the delusional. With each minute in this place the memories became clearer.
The inhuman hours, the scapegoating… but what did it matter?
The feelings attached to them belonged to a stranger now. In many ways, the apocalypse had been the great leveler, tearing everything he’d thought he’d known about this world down and leveling the playing field. If this truly was a reflection of his past then quotas, US dollars, profits, none of these would matter soon.
The thought gave him pause.
Wait, how soon?
“Yo, Alex,” his desk neighbor peeked in again, “What’s got you so spacy today? Need an ambulance or something? They won’t reimburse you though. Management has been changing insurance policies, did you sign the papers?”
“Hey, who even are yo—you know what, nevermind. Just tell me what day it is.”
The man frowned and looked like he’d been about to answer, when he suddenly turned pale. Alex followed his gaze over his shoulder to a balding man who wore his old-fashioned suit and suspenders with a tautness that suggested putting them on was his favorite part of the morning. Most puzzling was the unnecessarily mean glare he directed Alex’s way and the odd feeling that washed over him as he realized what the man was about to say.
“Alex, the manager woul–” —would like a word with you.
Alex frowned, the precognition feeling almost unnatural to him.
“You’re nowhere near hitting your quota for this month,” the man continued, “And they want to know why.” He said that last word: ‘why’ with the kind of sneer that insinuated he knew exactly why Alex wasn’t meeting his quota, as if his ragged appearance was the very issue.
After a barrage of criticisms on his un-ironed shirt, Alex finally remembered the man. Jack, John or something equally stereotypically white; a pompous middle-manager who’d always been on his ass. He soon tuned him out, but the oddness of the situation continued to grow on him. It was like he was experiencing two re-enactments of his life, one from memory and the other on a delay, but the dejavu he was experiencing was too intense for something from fifteen years ago. Too detailed for something he should’ve long forgotten. He tried to recall how to unlock his phone. Before realizing that he could just use his fingerprint.
Right. 2023.
He opened the phone and a wallpaper of him and a younger girl appeared, startling him. It took Alex a moment before he was ready to remember.
Alyssa.
A myriad of emotions sunk into his gut at the young girl’s face. Those hazel-blue eyes, the way her auburn hair fell into the hoodie he’d bought her. The way she…just—everything about her. Everything, it was too overwhelming. He hadn’t been able to find a picture once earth fell, and since he’d lost the one he’d had…
The thought trailed off as realization dawned. Dream or not, Earth hadn’t fallen here. The Integration… it hadn’t even started yet—he could go see her! He could–
Alex lurched. Whatever excitement he’d been beginning to feel soured as another realization dawned on him.
“Hey!” The middle manager droned on, “Alex! Are you even listening? When you get to the GM’s office you better have an answer–”
Alex was not, in fact, listening. He sprung to his feet, then shoved past the balding man and out of his cubicle. He checked the date, checked it again, and then checked the time. September 22nd, 2023. 11:07 pm. A day he would never forget—that no one could forget. He only had one hour.
Fuck.
Why couldn’t he have just had a normal existence-less afterlife? This timing… it was too much to be a mere coincidence! Was he trapped in a nightmare after all?!
“Hey!” a voice followed him, “Is this what they call cold quitting?! Just what should I tell the higher ups–”
“Tell them this, Jonas!” he shouted, “Tell them they’ll have better things to worry about soon!”
Adrenaline kicked in and he broke into a run.
“My name is not Jonas…”
As Alex rounded a corner the man’s shout grew muffled behind him. He glanced at his screen saver again: the photo had been from her middle school graduation back in 2020. The last year he and his sister had been on talking terms. Taking a deep breath, he dialed. It ended on the second ring.
Of course she wouldn’t pick up.
He dialed again anyway.
He gave up after the fifth try, panting as he ran through the vaguely familiar city streets. His thumb fumbled to open gps where he had his address saved, then he prayed as he checked his available credit. $62.34 dollars. He chuckled pitifully before nearly emptying the balance for an uber home.
His heart hammered but he still couldn’t quite believe this was happening. That he was really back. But if by some miracle it was true, every minute was going to count. His ride pulled over and he hurriedly jumped into the backseat.
“The code?”
“What?”
“What’s the code?” the driver asked, frowning this time.
“Oh…” Alex thumbed through his mobile, trying to pull through forgotten memories before he found what he was looking for. “ Uhh–2832,” Alex said, reading off his screen. “Please be quick, it’s an emergency.”
Thankfully the driver didn’t take offense at his haste. He’d tried to make conversation a few times but Alex was too out of it to take part and the portly man eventually stopped trying. As they made their way through downtown’s traffic and out onto the viaduct, he began to type out the longest message he’d ever written.
He stared down at his phone in bewilderment.
How do I send this without sounding crazy…
He couldn’t. But without much of a choice, he sent it anyway. Hoping that at the very least, even if she did not believe him, she would read it. It was his only chance of getting through to her. She… lived in Los Angeles. Where they’d grown up. There was no time for a visit.
His heart panged. And perhaps it was because he’d been sent back here—to a place where such a gesture once held any meaning at all to him, but for the first time in a long while, Alex found his hands clasped together in prayer.
Please Lys, listen to your older brother just this once.
***
Alex hunched over, catching his breath on the stairwell’s fourth-floor landing. He’d had his driver drop him off at the nearest convenience store, rather than directly to his apartment, and he had run into the stairwell straight from the lobby, opting not to wait for the elevators. His pockets had weighed him down, packed with odd snacks, borax, lighter fluid, and as much Canola oil 20$ could get you in Seattle.
Which was enough to drag down his withered body, even if it wasn’t a whole lot.
Even so, he never would’ve stopped to catch his breath were he not genuinely concerned he might faint at this rate. His pre-apocalypse physique was in terrible shape and it was a wonder to him now how he’d even survived the Tutorial in his… first life?
Is that what I’m calling this now?
He huffed, lamenting that he didn’t have an inventory to shove all this stuff into, but he’d be damned if he was going in empty handed this time. Everything he had on his person when the integration began would teleport with him and he intended to make full use of that. Even if that just meant ransacking his apartment for a fist-full of nature bars or whatever else he could find.
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I hope we paid the water bill.
His breath came hot and heavy and after deciding he’d been foolish pushing himself this hard for no reason he exited the stairwell. After a minute the elevator dinged and he only then realized he hadn’t even remembered which floor he lived on. Perhaps it was a good thing he’d stopped. Adrenaline might’ve just taken him to the rooftop instead.
Thankfully, muscle memory kicked in and clicked the correct button for him.
Floor 7.
As the elevator moved, he glanced at his reflection in the mirror. His fingers trailed his face with the touch of vague dysphoria.
It was as if all records of the last fifteen years had been erased from his body—as if he was looking at a complete stranger. He may have been fifteen years younger, but physically, his body was in far worse shape. His frame hung taut and fragile and though his pale skin was unmarred by scars, it hugged his bones like wet rice paper.
He looked deathly ill, but what struck him more than anything was that familiar look in his narrow-shaped eyes. The one thing that hadn’t changed.
This can’t be real.
He touched his stomach where his innards had bled out only moments ago. It was soft, smooth, whole. Then, with a chime the elevator stopped.
Alex stepped into the hallway, legs wobbly. He felt like puking.
His mind kept telling him this couldn’t be real. To be back here after so long. To be sent back to the beginning… everything he’d ever done reversed. All the suffering he’d gone through, all the hardships—just reset. Reduced to nothing. He knew he’d asked for a second chance, just… not like this.
He pulled out his phone again. The photo was an old one. She’d only been twelve, and Alex… the man he used to be, with that shitty goatee and the dumb smile… he checked his messages.
No reply.
It was almost funny. Dream or not, he’d found himself here in the past, and what could he do for her now?
Nothing.
It reminded him of that age-old question—the stupid that no true vet expected an answer from.
‘What would you do if you could go back to the very beginning?’
It wasn’t as if he’d never had the thought—everyone did. And everyone had the same answer; they’d do things differently. But what did that mean? A quick stop to 7/11 before the apocalypse? No, that was just his experience taking over, years of instincts telling him to plan and prepare for the next battle.
Then what, did he really want to relive that hell again, to experience it all as if for the first time?
His hand hesitated on the door knob and he found himself pulling out his phone again. His face reflected off its black surface and he finally realized what was so familiar about his eyes. They held no hope.
But so what?
With a shaky breath, he braced himself, turning his keys. He didn’t have the answers. Perhaps this really was a dream, a nightmare even, but it didn’t matter regardless. If the Integration was going to happen, then he just had to do everything he could to prepare. Because that was how he survived.
He entered his apartment.
“...Alex?”
A man turned his way from where he sat on the couch. His hair was clipped close in a buzz cut with sides that tapered off and the look on his face was incredulous.
“...Cameron…” Alex said, “long time no see…”
He walked past him, into the miniature kitchen and started rooting through the cabinets. Shin ramen, canned soup, a low stock of both… go figure. Seattle was expensive enough that he’d needed a roommate even while working full time and there wasn’t a lot else an indebted college student and an overworked wage-slave could afford time or money to cook. He still grabbed a plastic bag and started throwing them in.
The TV played some random episode of spongebob as background study noise.
“Long time no see?’” Cameron questioned, “Look man, if you didn’t look like complete shit right now, I’d think you’d just been dodging me. And why are you acting like a squirrel about to get its nuts stolen away?”
Alex noticed a slip of paper by the sink that said ‘Do them yourself’. He walked past it, tucking the unused slow cooker under his arm, mentally shrugging. You never know, might come in handy somehow.
“Seriously?” Cameron’s incredulous expression turned to concern as he shut the TV off, “Hey man, you know we gotta talk. About all this. And rent.”
Alex paused, glancing back at Cameron for a few moments, trying to remember what he might be talking about.
“You can’t be serious,” the man said, a look of genuine irritation flashing over him, before he took a deep breath. “Man, we’ve known each other for a long time. And I’ve been willing to cover up for you, but this? This is a bit much.”
Alex stared for a long moment. “Sorry- I’m a little dazed out. What do you mean?”
“Dude- it’s been four months, you literally owe me over six grand and I’m not sure you even can pay me back—and don’t say you’re too tired to talk–” the man huffed, then seemingly calmed himself, “Listen- I really hate to even say this, because I’d much rather help a bro out. But this has gotta stop, and if-”
“—Cameron,” Alex said, in a serious tone.
His once-roommate paused, taken aback by the uncharacteristic change in tone. Alex took a moment to think. To remember.
…shit.
It had been so long, he’d nearly forgotten about this entirely. And It hadn’t mattered in the end anyways—the end, which Alex noted was right around the corner. Right… rent.
The thought brought him halfway between a tired sigh and manic laughter, but somehow he repressed both and looked over the man with a calm gaze. Cameron was a tall man with bronze skin and round glasses. They normally made the man look more tame, but nothing could hide the intensity of his frown.
My friend’s probably going to die in a few hours. Should I tell him the truth?
Certainly not in its entirety he couldn’t. And “friend” was a bit… no, they had been friends once, hadn’t they? Not close, Alex hadn’t been close with anyone really, even back then. But they’d been close enough not to throttle each other under the same roof, and that had to count for something right? Or, at least it had been that way at first. Truthfully, Alex barely remembered what those days had been like at this point.
He looked around the room. The curtains were open, fluttering with the night’s breeze. There was a pile of clothes in the corner and another note there, but little else that might be helpful in the apocalypse.
And he knew better than to enter his room at this point, unless he wanted to take the piles of casino receipts he left lying around as souvenirs.
He sighed, looking at the man. I’ve been a pretty bad roommate, haven’t I?
Friend or not, the man was still going to die within the next few hours. Four months of unpaid rent… he at least owed it to hear him out, didn’t he?
For the first time, Alex noticed the box in the breast pocket of his suit and a long-dead longing filled his lungs. He left the slow cooker on the counter with some of the food and brought the other stuff he’d gathered onto the awning, sliding open the door. He gestured back to Cameron.
“A quick smoke?” he asked.
There was still apprehension in his expression but some of the tension fell from the man’s shoulders, “Don’t you know it. Finals this quarter are a bitch.”
Finals, huh…
Alex looked out over the night.
11:34… roughly twenty-five minutes…
Seattle was prettiest at night time. That was all that came to mind as he leaned over the railing. Cameron sparked his cig for him, he murmured his thanks. Lights sparkled on skyscrapers across the water and they looked like multi-colored emeralds in the night. From how people described Seattle before he’d moved here, Alex would’ve thought the city would always be pouring buckets, but when he’d first moved here he found that wasn’t the case. It was more of a constant on and off drizzle than anything, enough to sprinkle your shoulders wet and fill your nostrils with the smell of rain. He’d grown to like it.
He’d wanted to show his sister it someday.
“Alex…” Cameron said, passing the cigarette his way, “You’re in a different kinda mood today. You ain’t thinking of doing it, are you?”
Alex blew some smoke, coughing, lungs tingling, “No, Cameron,” he choked, “I’m many things, but not suicidal.”
Cameron went silent for a second. “Yeah, I know. I used to wonder…for a while. Was why I tried to hook you up with- uh. Nevermind that, it was unnecessary. But I guess… eventually I just figured you’d have done it already if you were gonna. What with… everything.”
Alex shrugged, hiding a wince. It’d been a long while since that sore spot had been poked and while he’d like to say he barely remembered any of it, he did.
He looked at his phone again. No reply from his sister still, and there likely wasn’t going to be one. He let it fall into his pocket and passed the cigar back to Cameron, resting his head on the awning.
Seattle. He’d gambled it all coming here, head full of grand plans. But you have to start somewhere, and as he’d found out, starting with a criminal charge was a death sentence. No matter how minor the reason or how hard he’d worked since then. It all came tumbling down.
He’d finally made enough to get custody over his sister, to get her out of foster care, just for everything to come out. And by the time it did, all the money in the world had been worthless to him. Coming to Seattle… he knew the truth now, he’d just been running away.
No wonder she didn’t want to see me.
He could only hope she didn’t have him blocked entirely.
“So, look,” Cameron said, interrupting his thoughts. He shuffled uncomfortably and Alex could tell they were done with the pleasantries, “I know you probably don’t have the money, man. I’ve seen your bedroom. But I just don’t know what else to do. You don’t talk to me, you don’t ask for help… What I’m saying is, I tried man. You’ve… you gotta go now. I can give you a week, but that’s all, then you gotta leave.”
A silence hung heavy between them and Alex could feel the other man tense.
Yeah, that’s understandable.
He turned to face him, giving the man his full attention for the first time that night. Memories started flowing back to him—the two of them shooting the shit at house parties, getting wasted, hotboxing in his mom’s minivan. They were all far from mind now, but standing out here, watching the city from their apartment, he still felt their echoes.
“You’re a good friend Cameron,” he said, “Better than I deserved.”
His friend had a perplexed expression on his face but Alex simply grabbed his stuff and headed for the door, stopping only to grab a soft plushy his sister had given him and little else. He took in his old apartment for the last time, giving Cameron a half hug. He remembered the man wasn’t very good with his words in these situations, but the squeeze he gave back said enough.
The next part Alex didn’t say aloud.
Goodbye, my friend.
***
The view was better from the rooftop. Alex set his bags down beside him and looked out over north seattle’s shopping districts and suburbs, a strange feeling washing over him. Across the water the downtown buildings still lit up the night, but he knew they weren’t as pretty as they appeared. At their feet homeless people would be coddled up in blankets, schizophrenics ambling about without help.
I’ve come pretty far.
The thought was unexpected. He’d come up here half-thinking this might be the time he jumped for real. But he really had. He’d used to be an asshole who’d stolen his friend’s money, who’d taken advantage of his kindness. He’d had his reasons of course, he’d had cause for all the sorrow, self pity, and spite he’d felt back then, but ultimately he’d still done it. He’d done a whole lot worse than that in his life, really. Much worse.
But in the end he’d died trying to save one, hadn’t he? A friend. Now that they were both dead Alex could admit it. That’s what Jordan had been to him.
A friend.
He coughed, then reached into his breast pocket and with some hesitation dropped the cigarette box over the edge of the roof.
These lungs are going to be a bitch in the tutorial, aren't they?
He pulled out his phone and started screenshotting, then sent Cameron most of what he’d sent Alyssa before turning his text notifications off, putting little other thought into the message. Goodbyes should be final in his opinion. His friend still wouldn’t live. And neither would his sister, most likely.
But Alyssa was brilliant beyond her years. If she saw it… well, there was always a chance at least. He just knew better than to get his hopes up believing in it.
Five minutes left.
He looked out over the city. Seattle at night… this would be the last time he could see this view.
At least the way it currently was—whole and everything. Not in pieces. The city wasn’t perfect but it’d been his city. Once, it had been his entire world, but now it just felt small. So fragile. Those tall-arching buildings might scrape the sky, but he knew one scratch from the apocalypse could send them all toppling. They didn’t call it the great leveler for no reason.
He looked at the time again. It was less than a minute now.
The railings were cold where his hands gripped them. The wind gave him a chill and he realized that in his reluctance to enter his room he’d forgotten to pack warmer clothes. He was still wearing his work suit, just like he’d been in his first life.
It wasn’t a laughing matter.
But he chuckled anyway in a derisive snort. Money, rent, a bad date, old friends, bad roommates, finals, studying, college, work—none of it matters. The apocalypse would come and whisk them all away, taking everything with it.
He looked down at his hands. If any of this is real at least. And if it’s not…
The thought tapered off, too painful to finish. That this could all just be a dream or illusion, that the integration was just a figment of his imagination—it was a nightmare more terrifying than anything Camilla could’ve conjured up.
His phone rang. He didn’t look at it. Probably just Cameron trying to get him to a proper asylum or something after his last text. Apocalypses and such.
He made his decision right then and there. He clutched his bags in one hand, grabbed the railing with the other, and hauled himself over the edge.
Alex plummeted.
Wind roared in his face. His stomach grew butterflies as it soared past, scything at his hair. In the distance Seattle quickly dipped below the horizon. Ground approached quickly, bringing with it the foul lurch of death—and right when he thought he might’ve actually killed himself, the world shook and he found himself frozen in place.
A relieved smile spread across his face. He refused to live in a sane world.
Integration of Universe 39F72, Integration 192 has begun. Please await further instructions as assessment completes.
Welcome to the Multiverse.
The world erupted in blinding light.