Ringing. Constant ringing. Some followed by cheers, others by grunts of frustration. Never, however, followed by speaking. The bright light of the slot machines was like a rave, one Leon did not enjoy one bit. Smoke and ash wafted into his nose like an onslaught, and he coughed in disgust. Yet, he came every day. For what reason? Money mostly, but also for the thrill.
“Oi Leon!” A blonde man, roughly in his mid-20s, called out to him. His arms folded across his chest, he smiled exhaustedly, putting every bit of energy into looking presentable, but it wasn’t enough. As the man approached, his eyes flicked towards the clock. It read 9pm. The clock in question, a red and gold analogue clock, was out of view from the public. He tore his eyes off the clock, Ron stopping before him. “God you look disgusting,” the man said with a laugh, digging his elbow into Leon’s side.
“You don’t look much better, Ron,” he replied, eyeing his dirty blonde hair and barely-cleaned glasses. When he learned his coworker, shift-mate, and closest friend was named Ron, he was embarrassed to admit that he expected a redhead. Instead, he looked more like a character from a show he watched long ago. Ron’s messy hair sat on top of his head like a mop or a dead rat, his collar unbuttoned as his tie sat lazily around his neck. Yet, his cuffs were clean—a detail Leon found curious. He recalled when Ron and he had met. They both looked like scruffy incompetent fools, but over time they learnt how to rile up a crowd. The two sat for a minute, watching the customers throw their lives away. They tsked at the same time, causing each of them to gaze at the other with confusion, before breaking out into a soft chuckle. Thrill did not come from gambling to Leon—at least not in the way it came to the patrons of the casino. No, the thrill came from betting which customer would lose first and how much emptier their accounts would be.
“Look at Old Man Willy over there,” Ron pointed toward the back corner, where a frail man sat. He spent every day there, from approximately 4pm to 4 am. He moved once or twice in those 12 hours, only to use the bathroom. Unfortunately, some did not even grace the environment with that amount of movement. The old man grumbled, smacking his watch angrily as his eyes tore from the machine.
“What about him? You think he’s ‘bout to hit big?” Leon studied the old man’s body language. He would’ve preferred to read his face, but he didn’t have that luxury this time. The man’s leg was bouncing up and down, he was reaching his limit. Normally, people mistook this as confidence or excitement. Leon knew better. “I bet $50 he doesn’t win big in the next hour,” Leon said with his hand outreached. A smile graced his face as Ron shook it.
“Deal.” Leon left Ron to keep an eye on the old man and headed toward the blackjack hall. Glancing at the clock again, it read 9pm.
“Great, I’ve got to fix that later,” Leon muttered to himself as he pushed the wide doors open. Thanks to video games, card-based gambling games had surged in popularity, especially with the youth. He wasn’t complaining though, he always loved watching the looks on the young adults’ faces when they lost. He didn’t entirely trust Ron to tell him the truth about their bet, but $50 wasn’t much to him at the end of the day. His job as a floor worker was rough, but Leon enjoyed it most times. He’d never been addicted to gambling, only addicted to the dumb looks his friends made when they lost to each other. He’d been at the casino for 2 years now, and was now a perfectly trained scammer. Lost in his thoughts, Leon stumbled, falling through a holographic screen that flickered into existence before him. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head, as the vision sat before him. He couldn’t tell if he was dreaming, or if the various senses threw him off. Yet he gazed at the game-like screen, unsure how to react. Then, and only then, cheers erupted throughout the entire casino.
In 24 Hours, this world will be shifted through time.
Leon covered his ears in frustration as a loud cheer echoed throughout the halls. Every single patron, young and old, was celebrating. Were they happy, or just scared? Leon’s eyes darkened as he stood deep in thought. Did they have some reason for celebrating? What would they get out of this? Leon couldn’t be too sure, but shifting through time did not sound healthy. In fact, he wasn’t quite sure what that even meant. Maybe it was like a costume party at college, or perhaps not. Leon couldn’t wrap his head around it. Was this warping through time, like science fiction? Or was this history coming to life? To Leon, it didn’t matter—he wasn’t into either. He took a deep breath, air mixed with ash and soot burned his lungs as he attempted to calm himself. Leon wasn’t one to panic—not in college when he was studying, nor at work when he’d made a mistake. He just got better. This was not a time where he could just get better, because this was out of his control. His feet carried him reluctantly to the blackjack tables, purely out of habit more than anything else. If he focused on work, maybe he’d forget the end of the world was coming. He pushed open the large double doors and stepped into the hall, where his co workers stood looking at him with tilted heads and confused expressions. Leon shrugged in a silent response as he greeted familiar faces. John, Mac, and Lester. The 3 men, somewhere in their 20s, practically lived in the casino. Mac, the tallest, had a mustache that looked as though it should have a restraining order on it. John, a man with a head as shiny as a pool ball, stood in the middle of the three. He looked deep in thought, but judging by Leon's prior experience with the man, that thought was not very deep. The oldest of the three, Lester, wore his hair in a man-bun like Leon's. Despite the dark atmosphere, he still wore sunglasses inside. Either he thought he was cool, or the tiniest bit of light was too bright for him. The three began chattering quietly to each other, but not loud enough for Leon to hear. Leon assumed their whispers were about that announcement, but he paid no attention and started dealing the cards. He knew how to play these men like a fiddle, and that was exactly what he would do. A phone dinged in his pocket as a slight vibration was sent down his leg. It was probably Ron, but Leon didn’t have the time nor energy to check. He supposed that he did have the time, considering there was 24 hours before things went wrong, or right. Again, Leon wasn’t sure. Maybe he didn’t want to deal with the man’s questions, or maybe he was scared of losing his best friend. After a bout of silence, one of the men cleared his throat.
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“Excuse me man,” he said with a stern yet slightly nervous expression. Leon flicked his gaze toward him, beckoning the man to continue. “You guys didn’t have anything to do with that announcement did you? I mean, that hologram tech was legendary. I just don’t think you can pull it off.” Leon shook his head. He had as much of an idea as these guys did, which was to say not at all, but the first rule of gambling was don’t let your target know that you know. The hours ticked by, during which many patrons asked Leon if he knew what was going on. Despite the amount of floor attendants, it appeared as though he had a reputation. He told them as much as he told the three men, and not a thing more, not that he had anymore to say. A yawn escaped Leon’s mouth as he stretched his arms above his head. He knew it was stereotypical, but it just felt so relaxing. He glanced at the clock once more, yet it still read 9pm. Still? He pinched the bridge of his nose. Was the clock broken? Or was this more than just a coincidence? Had he even seen that clock before? Normally he used his watch, but he’d left it at home today. A trick of fate, he thought as he chuckled. At that moment, as if the messages had some sort of sentience, another message appeared.
Due to the overwhelming support from humanity, the time shift will begin in 60 seconds.
Leon read the screen in front of him—so did the 3 men. His eyes shifted around the room, the eyes of his coworkers and patrons glued in front of them. It appeared they were reading the same message, the same thing that caused Leon to feel even more nervous. His eyes stuck to the patrons, to the three men in front of him. His nose scrunched up and his lips pressed tightly together as he arched an eyebrow. The crowd celebrated. Almost like New Years, they all began counting down. 60. 59. 58. The counting continued. He felt as though half these people had no energy to count for 60 seconds, or if they could even count that high. Despite the festival-like atmosphere, Leon’s lips stayed shut. Thoughts raced through his head like a storm of hail and wind. The storm flowing through his mind did make sense—it was called a brainstorm afterall.. What would happen to him? Did the screen just display messages, or was there more? Leon had seen screens and systems like this before—in an anime that had gotten popular recently, but this wasn’t fiction. It was reality, yet it seemed as though this world would become a fantasy, and Leon didn’t know if he was excited or scared. 40. 39. 38. He decided now was as better a chance as any to check his phone. The blue light reflected in his eyes as he traced the words on the screen.
“It appears I owe you $50.” Leon chuckled to himself. Even in the face of certain death, Ron could still joke like this. His fingers began gliding across the screen, before deleting the sentence he’d thought up. If he was going to see Ron again, he didn’t want to leave behind a cringeworthy text. Leon knew if Ron read it, he would bully him for days when they next met. Maybe, just maybe, it would be welcomed. 10. 9. 8. Leon’s saliva slid down his throat in an anxious gulp as the crowd celebrated. It felt like New Years, or at least what he assumed New Years felt like. He’d always been working, and you can’t exactly count down to the New Year when there was nothing to count. 3. 2. 1. Like clockwork, as soon as the crowd cheered one, a screen appeared.
You are now being Shifted.