My headlamp panned around the guts of an old Ford Explorer. My sore, oil-soaked fingers worked across the half-disassembled transmission---everything else under the hood was pitch black. I’d been working on it for almost ten hours over two days. This was my third time taking it apart. And it just. Wouldn’t. Work.

The other bay’s lights were all out, and my boss, Cindy, wouldn’t stop tapping her foot at me, but I had her on ignore. I could only hear the pulsing beat of classic rock on my earbuds and the sound of tools banging on steel.

But when she kicked my work boot—lightly, but insistently—I couldn’t keep ignoring her. I slid out from under the Explorer and pulled an earbud out, carefully tucking it into my work jumpsuit’s breast pocket. “Yeah, Cindy?”

“It’s time to go home, Hal. The job will be here tomorrow,” she said, annoyance plain on her wrinkled brow.

For a second, I wanted to argue. I was close. Another half-hour, and I’d have the transmission figured out. Something about that Explorer reminded me of my old station wagon. Maybe it was the rust. Or the fraying timing belts. Or the lady who, despite Cindy’s best efforts to tell her that it was a lost cause and needed more work than she could afford, was still hoping she’d be able to nurse it all the way to Wyoming.

Thirty more minutes. That’s all it’d take. But the oil, gasoline fumes, and the caffeine headache I’d been fighting for a solid hour were winning. I needed to call it a day. If I hurried, I’d make the next Red Line train back to Andersonville. I’d be able to crash in my attic apartment. Then, I’d beat the unsolvable transmission tomorrow and move on to the next vehicle Cindy threw at me.

Then I’d get to do it again. And again.

And again.

This had been my life for the last three years. Before Cindy’s Automotive—the best job I’d had since I came to Chicago—it had been small engines. I hadn’t quit that job. I’d quit that boss. And before that, I’d been a dishwasher and a barista. I liked the automotive job, even though I technically wasn’t certified. It scratched an itch the food service gigs hadn’t. But it still didn’t pay enough to move out of Mrs. Faren’s attic, especially since I technically wasn’t certified.

Some nights, I wondered if I should have stayed in Cozad, Nebraska. This was starting to be one of them.

So, with a “Yes, Ma’am,” I threw the filthy towel in. Cindy said good night, looking relieved, and locked the garage door behind me as I left. Chicago was a big city, but my station was only a couple blocks away. I started walking.

I couldn’t go back to Cozad, though. Mom blamed me for my sister, Beth, disappearing. That wasn’t entirely true, but I couldn’t exactly call her up to ask after she blocked all of our numbers. Going back to the farm wasn’t an option at the time, so I’d stayed in the big city. A clean break looked like the only solution.

I even sold the station wagon to pay for the trip, selling off my proof that everything was a puzzle to solve. Everything except Beth, at least. That puzzle’s only solution was to move on.

The easiest solution to my biggest problem would have been to walk away and go home, and I could any time. Mom had…forgiven…me for Beth. Dad would have me elbow-deep in tractor guts or pig shit in a minute, and I could start saving up money instead of living paycheck to paycheck. It’d just be a couple of years. I could try making my own way again later on.

The thought was always there, taunting me.

But if I went back home to Cozad, something in the back of my mind told me I’d never leave again. And unlike odd jobs in Chicago, I couldn’t walk away from the farm when Dad’s micromanagement got overwhelming. Once Mom got her claws in me, I’d never leave. So, no, I couldn’t go back.

A rat scurried down the stairs and across the platform as I hurried to catch the Red Line. I ignored it. Instead, I scanned my L-Card, stepped onto the train, and tried to find a place to stand where my body odor and oil-drenched clothes wouldn’t offend the other riders too much. I’d gotten used to dirty looks and being filthy, but still—I’d been taught to be polite.

The digital woman’s voice said, “Red Line, Chicago to Clark,” and the train lurched into motion. The closest stop to Andersonville was a decently long ride, so I tried to shut my eyes, doze off, and ignore the familiar-looking high-school girl standing next to me and giving me the look—the one that screamed I was just labor, a background person, and that I shouldn’t be in her space. Her mom shot her a look of her own, and she rolled her eyes, then shifted to face away from me.

No big deal. I smelled like oil and sweat, that was all. Besides, no matter how much she looked like Beth, I had canned soup and a mattress calling my name, and some fifteen-year-old’s wrinkled nose couldn’t take that away from me.

It wasn’t much, but hey, Mrs. Faren charged a price that was almost fair.

The train’s lights flickered off, flashing even through my eyelids. A short, maybe? But that wouldn’t have shut the train’s engine down, and I couldn’t hear that either. If the Red Line had lost power between Chicago and Clark stations, they’d shut down the whole line, and that canned soup would be a distant dream.

A glowing box popped into my vision.

System Initialization in Progress…

The box hung there even when I opened my eyes. I blinked, trying to make it disappear; it had to be from my headache. Was it going full migraine? Then, the train’s lights flickered again and the brakes slammed on. I lurched forward, narrowly avoiding hip-checking the girl like a pro hockey star.

System Initialization Successful.

Beginning Terraforming…

Generating Dungeon Seeds…

The brakes stopped squealing. The train stopped suddenly.

I didn’t.

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

Congratulations! Your planet, [Earth], has been classified as a [Category Six: Death World], and your species, [Homo sapiens], is unfit for immediate Integration into the Universal Order. By failing to meet the Integration requirements and succumbing to its filter event, [Earth] has begun its inevitable descent into chaos.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

But do not despair! The Consortium offers you an opportunity to ensure your species’ survival. Simply survive a short tutorial dungeon, then advance through the remaining phases of our system integration program, and [Homo sapiens] will be uplifted and ready for immediate Integration.

I’d hit something. Hard. I could barely read the words hanging in front of me through my watery eyes. And the too-cheerful voice accompanying them wasn’t helping my headache, either—especially because it sounded like a pre-recorded message with the details filled in later by a second, less happy-sounding voice.

I blinked and got my bearings.

The earth rumbled around the Red Line train as I pushed myself to my feet. What the hell was happening? Had we hit something? I turned to help the girl--she'd hit the car's floor almost as hard as me.

Her mom was already on it, though. “Alright, Tori, up you go,” she said. Once the girl—Tori—was standing shakily, her mom glanced at me. “Thanks for trying to help.”

“What’s going on, Jessica?” The girl asked. She was dressed like one of those scene or emo kids, with black hair swooshed over one eye and a fishnet top under her T-shirt, but her scared, wide-eyed look clashed with the black and neon outfit pretty badly.

“Train’s stopped,” I replied. “Are you seeing all this too?”

“Yeah, something about the Universal Order, right? But it’s got to be a joke or something, right? Right? That doesn’t even mean anything!” the girl blurted. She was working up a full head of steam.

“I don’t think it’s a joke,” I replied. A joke didn’t make sense. Maybe a gas leak into the subway line? That’d make people hallucinate, right? But would it make them hallucinate the same things? The whole train car? No, that didn’t make sense at all. “I think we should take it seriously until we know what’s happening. I’m Hal.”

“Jessica,” the older woman said. “Tori’s my daughter.”

“Step-daughter,” Tori said.

Jessica winced behind her bent glasses. “Not the time, Tori.”

The earth stopped rumbling.

Terraforming Complete.

Populating Dungeons.

Beginning Phase Zero: Tutorial Dungeons.

It’s decision time:

Option One, the Casual Tutorial, will transport you to a basic tutorial dungeon with all the support needed to make it through Phase Zero:

* Unlimited Respawns

* A safer environment and informative guidance system

* Common and Uncommon class selection upon tutorial completion

Option Two, the Hardcore Tutorial, is more challenging—much more challenging—but the rewards match the increased difficulty:

* No Respawning

* A more hostile, unforgiving environment with limited guardrails

* Increased leveling opportunities

* Powerful Rare and Epic classes

Failure to choose will result in automatic placement into the Hardcore Tutorial.

Objective: Choose (30 seconds remaining)

Jessica’s face went pale. “We’re really taking this seriously? This is real?” she asked, looking at me. She laughed nervously.

I had no clue why she thought I had the answers, but I nodded. “Yeah, I think it might be. Go with the Casual Tutorial, okay? Whatever it is, it’ll be easier.”

“Got it.” She turned toward Tori and cleared her throat, putting on her best stern, parental voice. “Tori, pick the first option. Got it? The first one, okay?”

Tori nodded, wide-eyed, and Jessica relaxed. She dropped to one knee and started looking for something under the train seat.

I relaxed, too. Then I saw Tori’s face.

She wouldn’t make eye contact with me, and something about her seemed…off. I couldn’t tell what—I didn’t know her—but something was wrong. “What did you do?” I asked.

She shook her head, looking away toward her mom, but I was completely on edge now. Something was wrong with the kid. And I had a bad feeling what it was. “What happened?”

“I picked Hardcore as soon as it popped up,” she whispered, keeping her eyes on her mom, who was halfway under a row of seats. “It looked like my kind of game, but no one’s acting like it’s a game.”

Objective: Choose (5 seconds remaining)

“Shit,” I said, eyes narrowing. Had Tori really thrown herself into the Hardcore Tutorial? Jessica emerged with a textbook, shoved it into the teen’s hand, and flashed a shaky grin at her.

My mind spun. There wasn’t time to warn Jessica. And I couldn’t let Tori go it alone. I’d done that before, with my sister. I couldn’t let that happen again—not after what that had done to my mom.

I picked Hardcore and confirmed it.

Choices Confirmed.

Initiating Tutorials. Relocating Casual Tutorial Participants to Casual Dungeons. Relocating excess Hardcore Tutorial Participants to starting locations.

A second later, Jessica vanished.

So did everyone else on the train.

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

Dungeon Seeds Generated

Tutorial Dungeons Activated

Welcome to Phase Zero, [Hal Riley]!

Team: Hal Riley, Tori Vanderbilt, Calvin Rollins

Tutorial Dungeon: Redline Tunnels

Objective: Kill the Tunnel Lord (0/1)

Objective: Kill the Redline Wyrm (0/1)

Objective: Reach the Dungeon Exit (0/1)

Objective: Survive (0/1)

Completion: 0%

Time Limit: 72 Hours

The second every other passenger disappeared, I closed my eyes.

This couldn’t be happening. But it was.

I’d been pretending this was all happening up until now. Now, I knew it was real. That didn’t seem like a big deal for most people, but for me, it was the difference between imagining problems and working toward solutions. Everything was a puzzle to be solved, a machine to be fixed. This Hardcore Tutorial wouldn’t be any different.

So, first thing. The earth was rumbling again. So was the whole train.

Something was coming. Fast.

My eyes snapped open. I had to get off this train.

I had to leave. Now.

The doors were folded half-open and half-crumpled from the train’s crash. I slammed a shoulder into them. Then again. They gave on the third hit. So did something in my shoulder.

I hit the gravel hard, rolling as the rest of the door fell next to me. A white light filled the tunnel behind us, and I ducked through an open maintenance door as the oncoming train bore down on the one I’d been riding home less than two minutes ago.

There should have been a crash. My back should have been shredded by broken glass and steel. Instead, the sound of metal tearing and ripping filled the air. I turned to face something that looked like a subway train but wasn’t.

The Redline Wyrm: Level Twenty Dungeon Boss

Current Difficulty: Impossible

It’s a worm! It’s a train! It’s the Redline Wyrm! This massive train terrorizes the tracks, keeping the exit stairs sealed off and gradually expanding its route as it consumes metal, earth, and the flesh of anything unfortunate enough to stand in its way!

It wasn’t a worm. And it wasn’t a train, either. It took me a moment to figure out what it was, though. A snake with parts of a half-dozen Red Line trains stuck around its scales. A massive god-damned snake, moving impossibly quickly, with milky-white eyes that reflected light into a single brilliant beam in front of it.

The maintenance door sheared off as the Redline Wyrm’s steel-scaled body flashed by, glassy windows illuminating the maintenance tunnel we’d hidden in. The wind and rotten-smelling air blew in my face. After almost a minute, the monstrous train passed, and I peeked back into the subway tunnel as the rumbling slowed. My stomach tied itself in knots as I stepped back onto the gravel.

My train back home was gone—nothing but a few scraps of steel and some shattered glass remained.

I stared at the Redline Wyrm’s glow as it faded away in front of me, trying not to shake. The twilit train tunnel loomed behind me, the electric lights replaced by a faint glow that barely broke the darkness. No matter how hard I squinted, I couldn’t see more than about a hundred feet.

“Alright, Hal. Let’s go find that kid,” I muttered. Then, without waiting for the Redline Wyrm to return, I started jogging after its fading lights.