Remember, the world ends on a Tuesday. An especially cold and dreary Tuesday. February 25th, 2020 at 6:12 pm PST if you want to be precise.

But that’s the end of the story.

Let’s start from the beginning.

Sunday, January 13, 2019, 10:35 am.

It's the kind of day where I wake, able to luxuriate in the soft feel of my sheets, my alarm blissfully silent, allowing me to embrace the snug. Which is okay, cause I don't have plans. At least not in the morning. Sab and I do have plans for tonight though. Apartment hunting.

I pull my phone out, checking my balance. The deposit went through. I now have just over three-thousand dollars. Enough for my best friend Sab and I to finally get our own place.

As I move to the edge of my bed, still wrapped in my extra three layers of blanket, the warm satisfaction is interrupted when I bang my elbow on the table. Gritting my teeth, I stumble to the bathroom with only one slipper on my foot, the other lost somewhere beneath the pile. Still shaking my arm to recover from the sensation, I discover that in a single night, my mom's managed to go through a dozen rolls of toilet paper. The remains of her paper mache mask are scattered throughout the bathroom.

Sighing, I can't even manage a smidge of surprise. Instead of the peaceful day I had planned, it looks like I'm going shopping. Well, since I'm going anyway, I might as well put together a list.

As I'm inspecting the expiration date on a tub of sour cream, I knock the shelf loose.

Looking at the containers of spilled salad, half-eaten Chinese food and the tub of sour cream that started it all, I shake my head then start cleaning.

Today is not going as planned.

After I finish scrubbing the tiles, I decide that since I've already started cleaning, I might as well finish the rest of the kitchen. By the time I'm done, our kitchen is spotless. The sort of spotless you see in soap commercials. Unfortunately, I also discover mom didn't just use up our toilet paper. She's also cleared out most of our pantry.

Throughout my efforts, there's no sign of mom. Which isn't surprising. Strike like a hurricane then disappearing to leave me to deal with the wreckage is kind of her modus operandi. Which is why it's past time for me to get my own place.

Still, it's nothing I haven't dealt with before. Throwing on my jacket, I start on my quest for groceries and the all-mighty teepee. I’m making to pay when disaster strikes again. My card is declined.

I know this shouldn't be a problem, but when I check my phone, it indicates my money was transferred out.

Two hours ago.

At some point when I was still cleaning the kitchen, all my money disappeared.

My eye twitches as I stare at the grand total of three dollars and fourteen cents. After texting Sab to let her know what happened, I call my bank. But I'm given the run around by the automated voice system. Cause why would it know where my money went. After half an hour on hold, I still haven’t reached a live person, which means there are no answers forthcoming.

At this point, I realize I'm standing around the grocery store making a fool of myself. Since I'm not making any progress, I leave. Sans tee-pee.

The cashier put my groceries back anyway.

I’d been planning to take a taxi home, but now that I don't have groceries, I walk instead.

Of course, while I've been engaging my digital arch-nemesis, hold music, the worst downpour of my life has rolled in.

I'm not a stranger to rain, I live in Vancouver. It's a temperate rainforest, we know rain. But our rain is often a haze or light sprinkle, with an occasional day of non-stop downpour thrown in to keep it interesting. Unpleasant, but not that bad.

The rain I'm staring into now is heavy enough I can’t see my hand in front of my face. Still, I'm not about to stand around the grocery store until it lets up, so I march home.

Stepping out into the rain, I tuck my hands into the large pockets of my rain jacket. The dark green material is plastered to my skin the moment the rain makes contact, but it keeps me dry.

As I walk home my big rubber boots splash through streams that didn't exist an hour ago. My mind keeps spinning but I get no closer to answering the question; where's my money? Did I get scammed? Was it that nice lady I gave that donation cheque to at the clinic?

Once I make it to my apartment building, I'm so glad to get in out of the rain that I climb halfway up the stairs before remembering I should check the mail. I forgot yesterday and Friday too.

Turning around I see my neighbour Josh as he's preparing to go out. He has his trademark black trench coat tented over his large frame. I always try to say something to Josh whenever I see him. You know, 'cause it’s important to be nice to your neighbours. “Hi, Josh. Quite the downpour out there today, don’t you think?”

Though, in his case, I always seem to say the wrong thing. He turns to me, then looks back outside before quietly replying, “Yeah.”

I cringe at his terse response, watching as he steps outside. Shaking my head at my obvious statement, I move over to the bank of mailslots, tracing my finger over the surface until I reach number 302. I open it, expecting to find our usual junk mail, but quietly hoping for a letter from my Norwegian pen pal Preban.

Instead of the plain white envelope that would indicate his letter, I see a dark brown one. It has embossed green vines running along the sides. Whoever sent this letter was feeling fancy. They even sealed it with dark green wax using an elaborate tree stamp.

I would've thought the letter was in the wrong mailbox if not for the fact that someone took the time to write, in exquisite penmanship, “Alexis Wyonna Everette.” It's not very often I see my full name. Other than my parents, not many people know my middle name. Maybe my dad's mom, mami?

This letter kinda reminds me of fancy letters mom used to get. The ones telling her she’d won a prize. All she had to do was mail in the generous registration fee. I wish I could say mom saw right through those scams and never sent a red cent, but that's not really mom.

She did stop getting those letters a couple years ago. More accurately, I started throwing them away before she saw them. Eventually, they stopped showing up.

Those letters are why my first instinct is to throw this one away, but there's something about it that stops me. I consider it for a moment. The envelope is just so elegant, I want to see what's inside, even if it's another scam.

Plus, it's addressed to me. I don't get a lot of mail.

As I reach to open the letter, a big wet plop, from my still thoroughly soaked raincoat, reminds me that if I'm going to keep it intact, I should probably dry off first.

I'll grab it later.

Leaving the letter, I set off for my apartment, my mind going back to my missing money. I decide to call my bank again, hoping to find out why my account is empty. After another two hours on hold, I finally get to speak to a living breathing person.

However, the unapologetic rep simply tells me that the other member transferred the money out of my joint account, before asking if there's anything else they can help me with. And when I say no, they request that I rate their performance.

You really don't want me to do that right now buddy.

Hanging up the phone I get up from our big brown couch where I've spent the last couple hours before storming towards mom's bedroom.

Joint account.

I should have known better, but I honestly forgot it was a shared account. I couldn't have been older than ten when mom took me in to set it up. It's not like she'd ever used it, so it’d effectively been my account since. There’d never been more than ten dollars in the account until the last six months, so why would she?

But for the last six months, I've been saving. Ever since I graduated from highschool, I've been putting money away. I'd almost had enough to move out with my friend Sab.

But now.

I'm reaching for the handle to her room when suddenly my strength leaves me. I just collapse, the tears pouring freely. It's not just the money. It's knowing that I've been betrayed, yet I'm the one who should've known better. I cry for half an hour, tears of frustration and self-recrimination pouring freely.

I know three thousand isn’t that much, not really, but it's all I had. And it represented hope. And freedom. And it was proof I could take care of myself. And now it's all gone.

This never would have happened if papa was around.

Forlornly, I decide to get up to make myself something to eat.

Digging through our little kitchenette, I quickly discover that all we have left is some slightly wilted lettuce, an almost empty box of rice, and the ever-present mustard. It's impossible to run out of mustard. Even after the world ends, there'll still be mustard.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

Sighing, I make myself a mustard flavoured salad. I don’t use the rice. It's going to have to last us almost two weeks. Which reminds me that I was just paid on Friday.

Damnit mom. Couldn't you have emptied my account a few days ago. Our utilities are due in a couple days.

At least putting those off shouldn't be a problem. Hopefully, I’ll be able to get an advance from my boss.

I know I'm not getting my money back. It’s been hours since mom took it out of my account.

Or I guess, our account. I give it even odds that she's gambling it all at the casino or gave it away to needy kids in Africa.

Who probably have more rice than we do, I lament while staring at the box on the counter. I really hope she donated it. Least then it'd do some good.

Booting up my ancient laptop, one I’d bought years ago through our local ThinkGeek, I decide to check my email. I'm staying off social media though, cause there's a high chance I’ll see mom bragging about where she spent my money.

I can’t handle that. Not right now.

Email's safe though. She never uses email.

I have a couple of email alerts from my gaming and hobby websites, an email from my friend Sab_733N, plus a second email that managed to make it into my main inbox. A quick check of the email address [email protected] convinces me it's spam.

Quickly, hitting delete on the spam, I reply to Sab, ranting about my mother. Not that it'll surprise her. She's heard all my stories about mom. Been around for a few herself too. I then spend an hour browsing through the aforementioned websites trying to distract myself.

Unfortunately, even alternate rulesets for playing as unholy aberrations aren’t enough to keep me distracted. To be fair, I was never much of a crunch girl.

So, I start planning out what I can do next. I start by emailing my boss at the mill to ask about an advance. I also shoot off an email to my aunt Sharon, just in case.

Next, I'm going to need my own account, so I check my bank’s website to see about opening a solo account.

There isn’t enough in my current account, but hopefully with an advance, I’ll be okay. As I'm browsing the bank’s site, my trusty laptop decides it's time for a system update. No warning, just a sudden reboot.

It really is one of those days.

Sighing, I go to open the website on my cell phone. As the screen turns on, I see that I have a text from an unknown contact. The words “Hello Alexis, it’s” are as far as I get before a thought occurs to me. It's probably mom on a new cell phone.

So, I ignore it.

And by 'ignore it', I mean I throw my phone across the room.

It's an amazing shot.

My phone hits the wall, sliding down until it wobbles on the windowsill.

Then, it continues its journey, bouncing off the couch, narrowly missing the old picture of me, mom, papa and his dear friend Mr Edwards, on the nearby end table. The one from days before the ugly tree incident. Of course, Mr Edwards has been cut off. But I can still feel his eyes on me if I look at the picture for too long.

My phone doesn't care about any of that, continuing to slide across the coffee table while dancing past my half-empty tea mugs and mom's beauty magazines with grace.

Right as it's about to go over the edge of the table to drop into our leak bucket, (that bucket everyone has, you know, to catch water from a leaky ceiling) it stops.

It totters on the edge of the table, over the, currently very full, bucket of water.

Carefully moving forward, I rescue my phone from its near demise right as another drop falls, plopping on the back of my hand.

Phone saved; I flop down on the couch in relief.

That would have been all my fault, I admit to myself.

Deciding that I can’t risk interaction with electronics, I start thinking about offline distractions.

I already cleaned our place before going for groceries.

I could read one of my old books, but I've been through them all recently.

With the heavy rain, going to the library doesn't seem worth it.

Then I remember the letter. Even if it isn’t anything interesting, I can doodle on the back or edges like I do with our junk mail.

Pulling myself off the couch, I make my way back down to my mailbox. After doffing my bra then changing into my kitten onesie.

I need the comfort.

Reaching inside our mailbox, I pull the letter out, inspecting it closely. I run my fingers over the ridges created by the embossed edges, feeling a little thrill when I break the wax.

Every part of this envelope screams quality. There's a return address which says Unit 17, 3205 Theodore Drive, but there's no name. Opening the letter, I admire the elegant script, which is much better than the chaotic mess I call writing. Then I start to read.

“To our dearest Alexis,”

“Congratulations, on being selected for the Forerunner Initiative. Thank you for your patience as we prepare for your integration.

As you were informed during your initial application, the Forerunner Initiative has a long history of helping new civilizations adapt to the brutal realities that come with a System Inclusion event. As a Forerunner, you have been granted an all-expense-paid trip to the Akilo training centre. In the training centre, you will receive advanced Forerunner training, unlock unique Forerunner equipment and learn as much as we can teach you about the changes coming to your world.“

“Every journey begins with a single step.”

“The Pantheon System Integration Team.”

"P. S. Please see your email for a reminder of the terms and conditions. See you in Akilo."

Ohmygod. Ohmygod. Oh. My. God.

This is my acceptance letter to the alpha test I applied for nearly a year ago. The Forerunner Initiative is supposed to be this amazingly immersive role-playing game being made by a local developer. I'd heard they were only approving a handful of applicants for the first thirty-six days, so I'm amazed I made the cut.

They must have major funding too. This is the fanciest acceptance letter I’ve ever seen. And the letter isn't the only fancy thing in the envelope.

Attached, I find a detailed map with a contoured surface that doesn’t just show the geography, but lets me feel it. Each texture is distinct. I run my hand across mountains, hills and forests which are pointy, bumpy and furry in turn.

It's not a local map, so it's probably a map of the game world. Chuckling at finally receiving some good news, I'm turning to head upstairs when I just about slam into Josh.

I'm so distracted, that for once, I don't even try talking to him. I just scoot around, going straight to my apartment.

As I climb the stairs I'm already contemplating what system the game might run on. They’ve been quiet about the mechanics, but I know there's going to be magic of some kind. I've always loved magic, ever since I was little. I even used to run around pretending I was a wizard, just like a certain muggle-born.

Though my 'spells' were always a little more elemental in nature. Hehe.

Checking my phone on reflex, I see the text from the unknown number is still showing. Now that I've calmed down a little, I decide to read its contents.

As I read it, I see it isn't even from mom. I’d caught the first few words earlier, but obviously I stopped reading when I threw my phone.

Considering it now, I realize the PSI team really doesn’t want me to miss this program. They've sent the same message as in the letter, but with a link at the bottom. Clicking the link takes me to a map. This map is mostly the same but is less textured than the paper one.

As I step back into my apartment, I wonder why neither the text nor the letter mention a download link or login code. Maybe they’re going to send it later?

Glancing at my laptop, I see that it's still locked in reboot paralysis.

I wonder if that spam mail was related. I’ll have to wait until my laptop finishes to check. Excited as I am about the game, the reality of how broke I am kicks in. I’d been counting on that money to pay for a new computer after I moved out.

Specifically to run games like Forerunner.

Now I don’t know when I’ll be online. I doubt my potato is going to be up to running their super immersive experience. It'd probably bog down just trying to process something as detailed as this map. I might have to recruit Sab. Which I'm sure she'll be down for.

Yawning, I settle onto the couch, running my hand along the map.

The more I look at it, the more it feels like I'm there, surveying the world from above. The detail is amazing. The western snowcapped mountains practically send chills down my spine when I touch them.

I swear the river which runs down from those mountains is sparkling in sunlight.

That sparkling river meanders east, passing out of the lumpy foothills covered in fuzzy trees, before flowing into the vast Akilo ocean.

North of the river, the soft yellow plains are covered with flowing grass. Inspecting the map closely, I see the grasslands north of the river continue until the map cuts off.

To the south of the river, the rolling foothills stretch all the way to the ocean, covered by a thick forest. Like the plains to the north, the map doesn't show an end to the forest.

But just south of the river, near where it enters the ocean, is a clearing.

The clearing is clearly ringed by a set of standing stones. There are four clearly marked stones, one pointing in each cardinal direction. Looking at them closely, it almost appears as though the cardinal stones are glowing. The lesser stones are neither glowing nor as large. They're more like markers. On the entire map, the stones are the only sign of civilization I can see.

I wonder what it'll be like to adventure in such a place. Untouched by humans, a whole new world to discover. A place where I’ll be the first to set foot. They claim the game will be unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, but everyone knows how common marketing like that is.

Still, I'm excited to be one of the first.

As I inspect the fine details of the map, my eyes keep being drawn to the standing stones. If I’m going to be playing in this region, I'm sure that'll be my starting location.

The longer I stare, the clearer it all becomes. As I’m inspecting some runes carved into the southernmost stone, I can't help but feel like they're familiar. Even as the thought occurs to me, I find my mouth opening in a long yawn, my focus immediately shattered.

Drifting off to sleep, my eyes grow heavier. Even as I slip off, I remain fixated on the map, the runes on the south pillar filling my mind as all other thoughts are brushed away.

----------------------------------------

The warm morning sun shines down on me, waking me with its brilliant rays. My eyelids feel heavy as I blink sleep from them. Did I fall asleep on the couch again?

Hmm, nope, the couch doesn’t smell like fresh loam or scratch my nose like that.

Taking in my surroundings once my eyes adjust to the light, I figure out where I am. Not that I believe it. I’m in the middle of the standing stones. Right where I figured I was going to start in-game, I can even see the mountains rising to the west.

“What the hell?” I mutter.

Did I start playing the game then forget everything that led up to this point? Pretty sure I would have remembered logging in or going to the training centre.

To make sure this isn’t a dream, I pinch myself. Wincing at the pain, I rub the soreness of my overenthusiastic pinch away while thinking. Whatever is happening, it seems real enough.

Okay, if I'm in a game, there should be a way to exit, right? But I don’t remember entering the game. The last thing I remember was… looking at the map?

I start searching for the map in the nearby grass. Maybe it'll have a clue. The immediate area around me is empty but as I'm searching, I hear a rustling noise. Turning, I see there are other people laying in the grass.

I count three forms, none of whom have risen yet. The rustling is coming from a small dark shape that is shifting back and forth. It seems like they're trying to get comfortable.

Okay, so at least I’m not alone. Standing up, I search around the clearing again. I still don't see the map.

Other than the three forms, there doesn't appear to be anything but me and the grass within the circle. I do notice the grass inside the stones is greener than the grass outside them.

I don't mean it's greener on the other side greener. The grass outside is yellowed and drying, but the grass inside is fresh and alive.

The next thing I realize is that I know what time it is. Not by charting the stars or gauging the sun or anything like that. I have a literal sense of time. It feels similar to my sense of balance. I know it's 6:03 am, on the 14th day of the year 2019, when I make this discovery.

And isn't this all just crazy.

Seriously, who gets up at 6 am.

This pretty much settles it in my mind. I’m definitely in the game. It’s already interacting with me, but if it's a game there should be more. An interface of some sort. Preferably a way to log out.

Then maybe a character sheet.

So, I start doing what any reasonable gamer in my situation would do. I start calling out words while moving my arms back and forth. Quietly. Because there are people sleeping over there so waking them would be rude. It's only six in the morning after all.

"Exit. Logout. Disconnect. Status. Menu. Options." I whisper to the air hoping to see something appear. "Character. Inventory. Escape." I continue, starting to feel disappointed.

I really hope this isn't one of those, "feel your way through it" games. If so, I might have to find an actual exit to log out.

I'm wracking my brain, trying to think of other words I could use, when I feel a growing pressure building behind my eyes. Thanks to my time sense, I intuitively know that the pressure will finish whatever it’s doing in seven seconds.

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