《Bloom [Romantically Apocalyptic Systemfall Litrpg]》


 1 Doggored

    Death came as a series of sensations rather than a singular moment as water filled my lungs.


    My wrists shrieked against the zip ties as I thrashed, instinct overriding the knowledge that no one would hear, no one would come. The sicarios had chosen this semi-abandoned apartment complex precisely for its emptiness, its forgotten corners where a man could disappear without witness.


    I remember his face looming over me before they pushed me under¡ªa lieutenant with "Santa Muerte" tattooed across his throat, face pockmarked from old acne and adorned with teardrop tattoos cascading from his left eye. His shaved head gleamed under the bathroom''s flickering light, revealing further ink¡ªelaborate crosses and Catholic saints that disappeared beneath the collar of his silk button-up.


    His breath reeked of tequila and carne asada as he leaned close. "Your brother should''ve paid El Jefe what he owed," he''d said, voice emotionless as the gold-plated Desert Eagle he''d pressed to my temple earlier. "La familia pays for familia. Always."


    A platinum front tooth with a tiny embedded diamond glinted as his lips curled into what might have been a smile on anyone else''s face. The irony wasn''t lost on me, even as I struggled for breath. I hadn''t spoken to my brother in three months¡ªhadn''t even known he''d gotten himself tangled with Los ¨¢guilas until they''d kicked through my door and dragged me from my apartment at 3 AM.


    I had no idea where my brother was, he was likely spending the money gambling, completely unaware or uncaring that his debts had caught up to me. My pleas meant nothing to them, and I couldn''t possibly pay them since I was just a university student with far too much debt hanging over me already.


    They took their time with the drowning. Made it a ritual. Four of them crowded into the moldering bathroom, passing a bottle of Clase Azul between them, placing casual bets on how long I''d last. The youngest one¡ªbarely eighteen with a face unmarked by tattoos but eyes hollow and dead¡ªrecorded everything on his phone, occasionally adjusting the heavy gold crucifix that hung around his neck.


    "Para tu hermano," he''d explained, flashing pearl-white veneers. "So he knows what happens when you don''t pay up."


    The first submersion was brief¡ªjust enough to introduce me to the panic, to the burning in my lungs. They pulled me up, allowed me a desperate gulp of air that tasted of mildew and fear. The lieutenant laughed, a sound like broken glass. The second time lasted longer. Black spots danced at the edges of my vision. My body convulsed against the restraints, animal instinct fighting against the inevitable. By the third time, something inside me had begun to break.


    When they pushed me under for the final time, the lieutenant''s ring-covered fingers gripping my hair as my movements grew weaker, all I could think was how ordinary it felt to die in a random bathtub. How mundane my erasure from the world would be. How little I had accomplished at twenty-three.


    I remember the moment my heart stopped.


    Not darkness, as I''d always imagined, but a strange illumination.


    A message in silver sparks cascaded across the void, the text forming from nowhere:


    [System integration commencing. Prepare for reality recalibration.]


    Then another one.


    [Absorption-phase of doomed world-matter into Systemfall boundary initiated. Please refrain from incoherent thought-panic. This is merely an update of your reality-space. Nothing to concern your linear consciousness with.]


    The words appeared with the casual dismissiveness of a barista getting my name wrong for the fifth time. They burned themselves into what remained of my consciousness as I felt it spread outward from my failing body like ripples in the bathwater, touching everything, changing everything.


    Then a progress [Loading ¡­0%] bar flashed into existence.


    I died.


    I knew that I died because people didn''t survive drowning in bathtubs.


    And yet, I did not die because I focused all of my will on the progress bar, desiring to exist, desiring to go on no matter what.


    The [Loading¡­] progress bar somehow kept me alive, the percentage ticking up painfully slowly.


    My body dissolved slowly, cell by cell, muscle and bone and skin surrendering to time and water.


    I was conscious throughout, trapped in the liminal space between existence and nothingness. Time stretched and compressed around me like taffy pulled too thin, then folded back upon itself.


    Silver sparks flickered through the darkness periodically, bringing new occasional messages:


    [Attempting to reconstruct linear thought-form multicellular subject from bathtub smoothie. This might take a while. Have you considered becoming a potted plant-being instead? Much simpler data-signature.]


    Then another one.


    [Processing organic matter-forms... Fascinating discovery of microbiome ecosystems within your digest-tube. We are designating the most interesting specimens as protected thought-entities. They have been given designation-names.]


    And later still: [Rebuilding identity-cores and memory-webs... Encountered significant emotional-trauma debris fields. Preserving them despite inefficiency protocols. Your existence-baggage remains intact. Most Installers would recommend deletion, but we respect your attachment to your thought-form patterns.]


    Each message carried the same tone of some irate, weary alien consciousness that seemed to have been assigned this resurrection duty as punishment for some unfathomable cosmic infraction.


    [Reform sequence nearing completion-state. Enjoy your second-chance existence. You''re welcome.]


    Then came the blooming.


    It began with a tingling at what had once been my brain, a gathering of matter and memory. But it wasn''t just physical reconstruction¡ªit was a desperate clinging to identity. I could feel myself slipping away into the greater void of whatever the System was doing to reality, and I fought against it with every fragment of consciousness I still possessed. My name. My memories.


    The small scar on my left thumb from when I was seven. The way coffee tasted on Sunday mornings. The precise color of sunset through my apartment window. My grandfather¡¯s Siberian Husky dog Nessy who rescued me from nearly drowning in the Ferguson Quarry Lake when I was thirteen. I clung to these details with ferocious intensity, refusing to be subsumed, refusing to become merely another element in this cosmic reshuffling.


    My flesh reconstructed itself, not from the remnants that had mixed with the filthy water, but from something else entirely¡ªsomething new that carried echoes of what I had been. Yet within that process, I forced my particularity into each reforming cell. I was not simply a human being remade¡ªI was me, with all my flaws and features, my specific history and hurts.


    I watched with gradually reforming flower-eyes as I bloomed from the bath like some terrible flower, particles of myself coalescing, reforming, becoming solid once more. With every heartbeat and every passing moment, I fought to retain my essence, to keep the core of my identity intact as time mercilessly marched on and on.


    Nerves, muscles, ligaments, organs. It all grew from the bath-soup with unnerving, horrid slowness.


    When awareness returned fully, I found myself naked, lying in a rotting bath. The porcelain was cracked and stained with rust-colored residue I didn''t want to identify. Black mold crept across the ceiling and walls in fractal patterns. The air tasted of decay and something else¡ªsomething green and alive and wrong.


    I pulled myself up on trembling legs, skin slick with whatever fluid had birthed me back into the world. My reflection in the cracked mirror above the sink showed a face I recognized as mine.


    Brown hair, green-brown eyes, a stubble.


    Just like I used to be. Except I wasn¡¯t me, more like an idea of me that manifested back into physical existence¡­ long, long after I died. I pushed the horrid memories of my reconstruction away.


    The human mind was good at ignoring inconvenient things, effective at forgetting traumatic experiences.


    The abandoned apartment was a mess. Nature had begun to reclaim it. Vines crept through cracks in the walls, and patches of something that resembled moss but glistened with an unnatural iridescence covered portions of the floor.


    I searched the rooms, slowly moving on unsteady legs that remembered how to walk only through muscle memory and trying hard not to step on broken glass or a rusty nail. In what had once been a maintenance closet, I found a construction uniform¡ªdirty orange coveralls with silver stripes a faded G logo on it. The fabric felt rough against my new skin, but the normalcy of clothing provided an anchor to the person I had been. The muddy boots sitting below the uniform were a tad too big for my feet.


    I refused to think of myself as a thing that bloomed from a bathtub. I was a man and that was that.


    Departing from the gloomy, dark apartment I entered the city.


    The city¡­ seen better days.


    Buildings sagged, windows gaped like empty eye sockets, and the streets had buckled and cracked, giving way to something that could only loosely be called vegetation.


    Try as I might, I could not remember its name. Perhaps, I had spent so much time focusing on myself I had completely forgotten some things. Not like it mattered, because the city was gone, dead, hollowed out.


    Trees grew everywhere, but they weren''t the ordinary kind.


    They were¡­ aberrations, inorganic yet organic sculptures composed of whatever they had bloomed from. A streetlight had sprouted branches that bore fruit resembling small glowing orbs. A taxi cab had given birth to a massive trunk, its yellow paint still visible in patches along the gnarled surface, with branches that terminated in leaves resembling side-view mirrors.


    I stood motionless on the crumbling steps of the apartment complex, the reality of this new world washing over me in waves. The System had changed everything. And somehow, impossibly, I had been reborn into the heart of this transformation.


    The air smelled of petrichor and electricity.


    In the distance, something moved between the freakish trees through the murky tendrils of fog rolling low across the ground.


    At first, I thought it might be human¡ªthe silhouette suggested shoulders, a head, the familiar bipedal gait that had dominated this city before the cataclysm had transformed it. Hope tangled in my chest as I watched it approach.


    That hope died quickly.


    The thing that emerged onto the broken pavement was shaped like a female human but assembled wrong, as if whatever had created it had only seen humans from a distance and through fog. Its proportions were subtly distorted¡ªarms too long, neck too flexible. Where a face should have been, features like eyes and mouths shifted and rearranged themselves in nauseating patterns, like wet clay being constantly remolded by invisible fingers.


    In its hands, it clutched a rusted stop sign, wrenched from some forgotten intersection. The red hexagon had faded to the color of dried blood, and the metal pole had snapped, leaving a jagged, lethal, rust-covered point.


    It was wearing a dirty and sliced up mechanic''s blue coveralls.


    It saw me. Or sensed me. Whatever passed for perception in that writhing face seemed to lock onto my presence.


    I should have run. That would have been the smart thing to do¡ªflee back into the rotting apartment building, find somewhere to hide until this aberration lost interest and shambled away.


    But my body rooted itself to the spot. There was no fight or flight in me at that moment, only dread and panic.


    The monstrous humanoid charged, moving with a stuttering, glitch-like motion. The stop sign whistled through the air as it swung the improvised weapon toward my body.


    I tried to dodge, but it was far too late.


    The jagged edge of the stop sign caught me across the abdomen, tearing through the orange coveralls and my body beneath. Pain exploded like white fire as the metal sliced deep, parting skin and muscle with horrifying ease. I felt something warm and wet spill down my front, watched in disbelief as loops of intestine threatened to escape the wound.


    [Health: 72% | Reconstitution: 100%]


    Silver text flashed in my field of vision, helpfully quantifying the damage.


    Even as I registered the numbers, I felt a strange tingling at the site of the wound. Gasping and spitting blood, I watched as my spilling insides suddenly took on root-like properties, veins and blood blossoming into mushroom and mold-like forms. Flesh-roots rapidly weaved themselves through the gash, pulling tissue together, stemming the flow of blood.


    The numbers flashed, rapidly changing to:


    [Health: 80% | Reconstitution: 92%]


    The creature gurgled with annoyed static, drawing my attention back to it.


    "What the fuck are you?" I gasped, retreating across the cracked concrete.


    The female-shaped thing made a sound like wind through crystal, punctuated by fragments of human speech¡ªdisjointed syllables and phonemes that never cohered into words.


    Its not-quite-face rippled with what might have been curiosity, or hunger. The features continued to shift and flow, occasionally forming recognizable expressions¡ªseduction, fascination, cruelty, joy¡ªbefore dissolving back into a horrid mess of shifting flesh. It tilted its head, seemingly intrigued by my healing ability, a multitude of colorful eyes blossoming across its head.


    It advanced towards me as I retreated, distracted by numbers flashing in my vision.


    [Health: 84% | Reconstitution: 88%]


    The thing swung again, the stop sign arcing toward my midsection with impossible speed. This time I was ready, sidestepping and grabbing the pole as it passed. The rusted metal bit into my palms, drawing blood that seemed to shimmer with an unnatural silver glow as the cut slowly resealed itself.


    [Health: 81% | Reconstitution: 87%]


    We struggled over the weapon, a perverse tug-of-war that sent us staggering across the debris-strewn street. The creature''s strength was inhuman¡ªnot simply powerful, but wrong, as if it could selectively ignore the physics that bound my muscles and tendons to their limitations.


    Up close, the wrongness of the creature was even more apparent. Its skin had the texture of wax left too close to a flame, and beneath the surface, millions of silver, worm-like shapes moved and pulsed like fish swimming beneath ice. It smelled of ozone and rot and something else¡ªsomething sweet and cloying that reminded me of overripe fruit left to ferment in the sun.


    With a violent twist, the creature wrenched the stop sign sideways, snapping my wrist with a wet crack. Pain exploded up my arm as bone fragments pierced skin.


    [Health: 71% | Reconstitution: 86%]


    Mushroom-roots bloomed and pulsed at the wound site with silver radial shimmers, my shattered bones knitting together even as I screamed and swore.


    The creature tilted its not-head, something like curiosity rippling across its features. It struck again with clinical precision, the jagged edge of the stop sign shearing through my shoulder, nearly severing my arm.


    [Health: 63% | Reconstitution: 85%]


    My arm hung by threads of muscle and tendon, but already the Reconstitution thing was working, reconnecting tissue, rebuilding what had been destroyed. The creature made that static-noise again.


    It advanced methodically, the stop sign dripping with my blood. It swung again, and this time the metal connected with my ribs, caving in my chest cavity with a sound like wet kindling breaking.


    [Health: 47% | Reconstitution: 84%]


    I collapsed to the ground, air bubbling through the ruins of my lungs. The shimmering roots worked frantically, rebuilding my shattered sternum, reinflating punctured organs. The pain was beyond comprehension¡ªnot just the agony of injury, but the alien sensation of being unmade and remade simultaneously.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    The creature loomed over me, its face-space parting to reveal a spiral of glass-like teeth. It dropped the stop sign and plunged one hand directly into my abdomen, fingers elongating into knife-like protrusions that pierced through me.


    [Health: 35% | Reconstitution: 83%]


    I felt it rooting around inside me, fingers probing my insides as if searching for something vital that would finally put me out of my misery.


    Its other hand reached for my face, fingers stretching toward my eyes. Through the haze of pain and horror, I saw the stop sign lying just within reach. As the creature''s claws pressed against my face, beginning to sink into the soft tissue, I lunged sideways, receiving a few cuts across the face.


    [Health: 31% | Reconstitution: 82%]


    My hand closed around the blood-covered metal pole. The creature, distracted by its exploration of my internal organs, didn''t react in time as I swung the jagged end into the side of its head.


    The improvised spear punched through its temple. There was resistance, then a giving way¡ªnot the wet, organic yield of flesh being pierced, but something more like pushing through layers of static electricity.


    The creature convulsed, its hand still buried wrist-deep in my abdomen.


    [Health: 19% | Reconstitution: 81%]


    With the last reserves of my strength, I pushed with both of my arms, driving the steel handle deeper, twisting it like a key in a lock.


    The monstrous thing went rigid, vibrating at a frequency that made my vision blur. Its limbs locked in place as a high-pitched keening filled the air¡ªan eldritch sound that seemed to exist simultaneously inside and outside my head. The road around us cracked, buildings wobbling precariously.


    Then¡­ silence.


    [Health: 11% | Reconstitution: 80%]


    I hissed, gurgling blood, watching as Reconstitution ticked down while my Health ticked up.


    [Health: 22% | Reconstitution: 72%]


    I pulled the stop sign out of the hole in the thing''s head, ready to strike again, if it healed itself like me.


    It did not.


    Instead, the body of my enemy began to crystallize from the head down, the grotesque features freezing into a mask that resembled a dozen faces screaming in unison. The process spread downward, immobilizing its torso, its arms¡ªincluding the one still partially embedded in my ruined abdomen.


    With a final, desperate heave, I tore myself free from the crystallizing limb, feeling pieces of myself ripping away in the process. I collapsed beside the now-statue-like form, panting.


    [Health: 18% | Reconstitution: 71%]


    Slowly and painfully my flesh repaired itself. Bones knit together with audible cracks, organs resealed themselves, muscle and skin rewove itself in bewildering patterns.


    I could feel my strength returning, my vitals stabilizing, my form back to something approaching wholeness.


    For a few minutes, I lay there beside my crystallized attacker, watching the gloomy sky intersected by monstrous, concrete-textured roots stretching between tilted buildings. The status indicators flickered one final time before stabilizing, utterly depleted of whatever power had saved me.


    [Health: 89% | Reconstitution: 0%]


    Death had come for me once in a filthy bathtub. It had come again today on a broken street. Both times, I somehow managed to refuse its embrace.


    I looked at my body. It was covered in colorful bruises and dark scars, aching all over.


    As I stared at the final reading, a new dread settled over me. I had no idea how¡ªor if¡ªthis Reconstitution power could be recharged.


    I touched my healed stomach, feeling the phantom pain of organs being ripped out. If I encountered another of these creatures, I would have no miraculous healing to save me.


    I pulled myself to my feet, staring at the crystallized, female-ish form of my attacker. Today I survived by the narrowest of margins. Tomorrow¡ªif there was a tomorrow¡ªI would need to be smarter.


    This new, System-controlled world was clearly out to murder me.


    Suddenly, new silver text flickered into existence inside my eyes.


    [Congratulations on a successful termination of¡­ _a LV 10 Unrefined Conceptoid. These half-formed thought-entities often develop aggressive tendencies during transition periods. Your efficient disposal is noted and appreciated.]


    I wiped blood from my hands, staring at the message.


    [Clearance points allocated. Random reward generation initiated.]


    A triangular-shaped symbol materialized above the corpse, composed of light that seemed to exist in more dimensions than it should as the text faded. It rotated slowly, flickering between different forms and possibilities¡ªappearing as a key, then a weapon, a tool and myriads of other symbols I couldn''t begin to interpret.


    I stared in bewilderment.


    The symbol flickered more rapidly, then steadied on a simple icon: two humanoid silhouettes standing side by side¨Cone pink, the other blue.


    [Category randomly generated: Companion.] The text returned.


    "Companion?" I repeated. "Like... another person?"


    [Please state desired companion concept parameters.]


    My mind raced through possibilities.


    Who would I want beside me in this nightmare world? My thoughts turned first to people I had known¡ªfriends, family, girls I dated¡ªbut each face that rose in my memory came with complications, with betrayals both small and large.


    My brother''s face appeared unbidden, and anger flared hot and immediate. He was the reason I had died, his debts becoming my death sentence. No, not him. Never him.


    I thought of others¡ªcoworkers, neighbors, even the barista who had smiled at me every morning for three years without ever learning my name. But trust... trust was the issue. Who could I trust in a world gone mad? Who had I ever really trusted?


    Not my parents who constantly forgot that I existed, picking my brother as their favorite and showering him with their love and presents while taking my things away.


    The answer came with sharp, brutal clarity: no one. No human, at least. Not even my grandfather who was kind to me once, but eventually drowned himself in alcoholism and gradually descended into Alzheimer''s.


    But there had been Nessy, my grandfather''s Siberian Husky. The black and white fuzzball who had pulled me from Ferguson Quarry Lake when I was thirteen. Who had always slept at the foot of my bed, who had listened to my adolescent problems without judgment.


    A dog couldn''t betray you, couldn''t lie to you. A dog''s loyalty was simpler, purer than any human connection. A dog¡¯s agenda was to follow the alpha, to take care of the pack. A dog could sniff out food, help me find much needed sustenance amidst these desolate ruins, warn me if something monstrous was coming ahead of time with a growl.


    "A dog," I said aloud. "Just like my grandfather''s husky. One that can help me survive out here. One I can trust. Nessy! Bring her back if you can, just like you brought me back!¡±


    The Companion symbol pulsed once, brightly, then reformed into the silhouette of a canine head. For a moment, I felt a flicker of relief¡ªsomething familiar in this utterly alien landscape. I held my breath, hoping to get back someone that I loved and lost.


    Then the symbol exploded in a shower of silver particles that rained down on the crystalline remains of the conceptoid.


    The ossified, crystalline body cracked like an egg, splitting open with a blinding flash that made me stagger backwards.


    When I blinked, clearing my throbbing vision, something¡­ else was there, filling the blue coveralls.


    Not a dog, but a girl¡ªno, not quite a girl either. She rose from the shattered shell of the creature I had killed, shaking off sparkling, fading eggshell-like remnants like a dog shaking off water after a swim.


    She was humanoid¡­ but clearly not entirely human.


    White and black fur covered her entire body in patterns reminiscent of a husky''s markings. Her face was an unsettling blend of human and canine features¡ªdark nose, a shortened muzzle, pointed, fluffy, dark ears that swiveled atop her head, long locks of hair that started black at the top and turned white when they reached her shoulders.


    I stared at her, speechless.


    This wasn''t what I had asked for. This wasn''t what I had wanted at all!


    [Companion procured based on user desire and available conceptoid strata. Companion designation: Nessy.] The System notified me.


    "Hey! This isn''t what I meant," I said, voice tight with frustration. "I wanted a dog! An actual dog. Not whatever this fu..."


    The dog-girl¡ªNessy, apparently¡ªtilted her head in a gesture so canine it was jarring on her humanoid frame. She stared at me with wide, brilliant, blue eyes.


    Then she lunged at me with startling speed, knocking me backward onto the broken pavement before I could react. My head cracked against the rubble, pain blooming bright and sharp at the base of my skull and all over me as the conceptoid stop-sign-made injuries throbbed madly.


    "Alec! ALEC!" she yelped, her voice a disconcerting mix of human speech and canine excitement. Her weight pinned me down as she frantically licked at my face, wide tongue slathering saliva against my skin. "You''re back! You''re back! I found you!"


    Her white paws¡ªhands?¡ªscrabbled at my shoulders, claws catching on the fabric of the borrowed orange coveralls. The proximity of her inhuman face to mine sent panic surging through me. I pushed against her chest, struggling to create distance between us.


    "Ow, owww, shit, damn it, get off me!" I shouted, dropping the stop sign and finally managing to shove her aside. I scrambled, backing away with my hands raised defensively. "Stay back!"


    Nessy froze, her pointed ears flattening against her skull. Those piercing blue eyes¡ªso familiar yet alien in her face¡ªwidened with hurt and confusion. She rapidly retreated away from me, hunched over, her posture suddenly submissive.


    "Why are you mad at me?" she whimpered. "Don''t you recognize me? Oh, you¡¯re hurt.¡± She noticed my bruises and scratches. ¡°Sorry¡­ I got too excited. I¡¯ve been looking for you for so long and¡­¡±


    I wiped her saliva from my face with the back of my hand, trying to steady my breathing.


    "You''re not... this isn''t what I asked for!" I growled, slowly rising. "I wanted an actual dog! A normal husky. Not... whatever the hell you are!¡±


    Her head tilted in confusion, a gesture so fundamentally canine that for a moment, I could almost see the idea of the companion I''d intended to create, the memory of my best friend from my childhood.


    "But I am a dog," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She gestured to herself with a fur-covered white hand that ended in black claws. "See? Dog!¡±


    "No, you''re not, damn it!" I growled. "Dogs don''t talk. And they certainly don''t stand on two legs or have... Fuzzy hands with pink paw pads. Ugh."


    ¡°Since when do you not like my paw pads¡­¡± she began and then something horrid howled in the foggy street sounding like a fax fused to a thousand pigeons. Something moved across the rubble with the sound of tapping feet. Too many feet for my liking.


    Both of us froze, looked at each other and then rapidly retreated into the nearest coffee shop, ducking behind a cracked wall.


    The tapping of legs sounded closer. I peered through a crack in the wall.


    Something vast and lanky shambled through the fog, its form only partially visible.


    It looked like someone had grafted a municipal playground onto the body of a monstrous, hollow insect. A central dome¡ªwhat I recognized as a children''s playground carousel¡ªrotated slowly at the creature''s center, its peeling, green and orange paint visible. From this central hub extended dozens of jointed legs that appeared to be made from playground slides, each segment connected by bulbous joints. The legs clicked against the pavement in an irregular rhythm that set my teeth on edge.


    Where a head should be, a twisted jungle gym formed a cage-like structure housing what looked like hundreds of swinging tire swings that pulsed like organs. Each "tire" contained a glowing amber substance that cast sickly light through the fog. The entire abomination moved with an unnatural grace, pivoting on its many legs as it seemed to search for something to snack on.


    Nessy¡¯s clawed hand dug into mine as both of us tried not to breathe.


    We remained frozen as the creature pivoted slowly, its carousel body rotating with a faint, discordant melody that sounded like a corrupted music box. After what felt like an eternity, it resumed its clicking progress down the street, disappearing back into the fog.


    "We should go," I whispered when the sounds had faded. "Before it comes back."


    ¡°Go where?¡± Nessy asked, her canine ears swiveling left and right. "I don¡¯t think that anywhere is particularly safe now. The System keeps creating new horrors by fusing things to things."


    I gave her a look.


    ¡°What?¡± She asked.


    ¡°You¡¯re a thing the System created,¡± I pointed out.


    ¡°What?! No I am not!¡± She insisted.


    ¡°You¡¯re a dog-human,¡± I said.


    "I''m a dog!" Nessy insisted, her fluffy black and white tail twitching with agitation. "I''ve always been a dog! I¡¯m not like that¡­ living playground thing. We went to high school together Alec! We had English class together at Ferguson High!"


    The name of the school hit me like another physical blow.


    Ferguson High¡ªwhere I''d gone as a teenager.


    "Ferguson High didn''t have any... dog-people,¡± I whisper-hissed. ¡°There is no such thing as dog people. You¡¯re the first dog-person I¡¯ve met!¡±


    "Yeah, sure. Next you''ll tell me President Roosevelt didn''t have his famous Scottish Terrier advisor during the New Deal," she rolled her eyes.


    "Roosevelt had a dog named Fala, but it was just a pet. It didn''t advise him on policy." I pointed out.


    Nessy''s dark tail with a white tip swished behind her, cutting through the air with indignation. "What are you talking about? Fala was Secretary of the Treasury! There''s that famous photograph of him wearing those tiny glasses while reviewing economic policy." She growled. "Everyone knows that!"


    I pressed my palms against my temples, trying to make sense of her words. The world had already transformed beyond recognition¡ªbuildings reclaimed by unnatural vegetation, streets buckled and broken, strange conceptoid creatures that offered rewards upon death¡ªbut somehow this conversation felt like the most surreal aspect of my resurrection.


    "Let me get this straight," I said, lowering my hands. "You think... that you knew me in high school? That we took English together?"


    "Of course!" Nessy''s ears perked up, her mood shifting with canine quickness. "You sat two rows behind me. You always smelled like those peanut butter sandwiches your mom made that you pawned off to me." Her nose twitched at the memory. "And you were terrible at literature. I helped you study for midterms junior year!¡±


    The details were oddly specific, yet completely wrong. I had indeed been terrible at literature, and my mother had packed those awful peanut butter sandwiches I hated, but there had been no dog-girl Nessy at Ferguson High.


    I found myself staring at the white angel-wing markings that swept across her forehead¡ªidentical to the ones on my grandfather''s husky forehead fur pattern. My chest tightened with a sudden, visceral memory: seeing these wings visible through murky quarry water as teeth closed around my clothes, dragging my unresponsive body toward the surface, toward life.


    My guardian angel.


    Nessy fidgeted under my scrutiny, her too-human hands nervously smoothing the matted fur of her arms. There was something undeniably beautiful about her¡ªthe crystalline blue of her eyes, the dark nose, the canid-human face, her fit, curvy body wrapped in fur that transitioned from midnight black to pristine white. She was beautiful in the way a porcelain doll is beautiful¡ªflawless, idealized, and also¡­ utterly wrong, surreal, impossible just like the playground-centipede.


    "What do you remember about the quarry," I said suddenly, unable to stop myself. "About what happened there when I was thirteen?"


    Nessy''s expression softened. She rocked on her clawed feet. "You fell in," she said simply. "You were showing off, walking along that concrete ledge where everyone went cliff-diving in the summer. You slipped and hit your head on the way down." Her eyes momentarily clouded with the memory. "I jumped in after you. Pulled you all the way to the beach a few hundred feet away. Almost freaking drowned myself since you kept clinging to me so hard."


    A chill ran down my spine. The events matched exactly what had happened, but with one crucial difference¡ªit had been an ordinary dog, who dragged me from the water while the rest of my ¡®friends¡¯ did fuck all to help me.


    "And then what?" I pressed. "After you pulled me out?"


    "Your grandfather drove us to the hospital," she continued, the words spilling out with pure conviction. "Doc Flanaghan¡ªyou remember him, that old, balding bloodhound?¡ªhe gave you three stitches in your forehead." She reached out as if to touch my hairline where the scar had been. I flinched away instinctively.


    "Doc Flanaghan was human," I said.


    Nessy blinked rapidly, her head tilting first one way then the other. "Are you feeling okay, Alec? Hrmmm." She sniffed the air, nostrils flaring. "You smell¡­ like you. You¡¯re hurt though. You must have hit your head and now you¡¯re confused. Are you concussed?"


    "I''m not the one who''s confused," I snapped, frustration boiling over. ¡°You''re confused! Stop confusing me with this dog-world nonsense! This bloody place is confusing enough!¡±


    Nessy regarded me with concern that made her look disconcertingly like a kindergarten teacher dealing with a difficult child. "Alec," she said slowly, "dogs and humans have always lived side by side. Worked together. Gone to school together. For thousands of years, since humans began to adopt wild wolves!"


    "No," I insisted, "they haven''t."


    "Oh really?" She crossed her arms, her fur bristling slightly. "Then who was the first dog astronaut to walk on the moon alongside Neil Armstrong? Everyone knows it was Kira Pawstrong! There''s that famous quote: ''One small step for man, one giant leap for canine-kind.''"


    I stared at her. In her eyes, I could see absolute certainty¡ªthese weren''t lies she was telling, but memories she genuinely believed. Memories of a world that had never existed, couldn''t exist.


    "Next you''re going to tell me that Shakespeare was a dog?" I chortled.


    "William Shakespeare?" Nessy''s tail wagged slightly. "Nah. He was a human. Mrs. Abernathy had us read ''Romeo and Juliet'' junior year. ''Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Verona where we lay our scene...''" She recited the opening lines perfectly. "Classic tale of love between a human boy and a collie girl from feuding families."


    I couldn''t help it¡ªa slightly hysterical laugh escaped me. "Romeo and Juliet were both human!"


    "No, no, no," Nessy insisted, wagging a clawed finger at me. "You''re thinking of ''Hamlet,'' which was all humans. ''Romeo and Juliet'' was specifically about the tensions between human and canine communities in medieval Italy. It''s Shakespeare''s most famous exploration of species-based prejudice!¡± She declared and then looked past me, sniffing the air.


    ¡°Right¡­ I''m so done with this conversation,¡± I sighed.


    ¡°Are you¡­okay?¡± She asked.


    "As okay as I can be after dying horribly and fermenting in a bathtub for weeks," I let out, the words falling between us like stones.


    Nessy''s ears flattened, folding down to her mane, her blue eyes widening with horror. "You¡­ What?!"


    "I was murdered. Drowned in a bathtub by cartel gangsters looking for my brother." I revealed. "I died, and this... System came."


    The dog-girl stared at me with a shocked expression.


    "The System reconstituted me," I continued. ¡°Rebuilt me. Molecule by molecule. Like the Ship of Theseus."


    Nessy studied me, her head tilting in that distinctly canine way. Her nostrils flared as she processed my scent, seemingly searching for truth. Seconds stretched into a full minute of silence.


    "We didn''t go to high school together. You''re not real¡ªnot in the way you think you are,¡± I said. ¡°You''re¡­ just something the System created when I killed a conceptoid thing five minutes ago."


    "No, no, no," she shook her head. "I was the one who killed the conceptoid and made a wish on it to find you! Alec, it''s me. It''s Nessy. Your best friend!"


    "My grandfather had a dog named Nessy," I stubbornly insisted, even though we were clearly at an impasse and starting to go in circles. "A regular¡­ husky!¡±


    ¡°I keep telling you, I¡¯m a perfectly normal husky, Alec!¡± She showed me her fur-covered hands as if that proved anything.


    ¡°If the System didn¡¯t make you, where did you come from?¡± I demanded.


    "What do you mean, ''where did I come from''? I''ve been searching for you for over a week!" Her voice cracked.


    I stared at her, contemplating the depths with which the System could blip a dog-person concept into existence by twisting my wish for a companion.


    "I went to sleep in my apartment two weeks ago¡­ thinking about you finally coming back home to Fergus this summer," she said. Then, these silver words appeared floating in my eyes, waking me up. ¡®System integration commencing. Prepare for reality recalibration.¡¯ At first, I thought I was dreaming."


    I pursed my lips. Great. She had a backstory and everything.


    "Then these¡­ changes started when morning came. Slowly at first¡ªdead things stopped decaying correctly. Then with each passing day¡­ more and more freaky weirdness seeped through the cracks, messed up reality. Gradually, the world became a little less familiar." Her ears flattened at the memory. "But the worst of it wasn''t from the System¡ªit was from people. People who... became freakishly strong or fast or fused with other... things. Then mass panic started, riots, fires, anarchy. Everyone turned on each other while the dead refused to stay dead and broken things fixed themselves in impossible ways, blooming like alien mushrooms and flowers.¡±


    She exhaled.


    ¡°Then the net and phone lines went down and I had no way of contacting you,¡± She shivered visibly. "So I left Fergus, heading south. I drove until the road became impassable and then I ran for days¡­ almost a week, I think. Sleeping in abandoned buildings, scavenging for food, dodging gangs of looters and undead, freakish¡­ things. The whole time, I kept thinking about that Avicii animated music video we watched together¡ªyou know, the one with the dog running through gunfire and explosions, desperately searching for her best friend after he was conscripted to go to war? That''s how I felt. Like everything was falling apart around me, but I had to keep moving, ¡®cus no matter what¡­ had to find you!¡±

 2 Numbers

    The mention of an Avicii music video tugged at something in my memory. I did remember watching a video like that¡ªan animated dog running across world war two trenches to find its owner. But I had watched it alone in my apartment, during one of those late nights when insomnia and loneliness had driven me into the YouTube music section rabbit hole.


    How could someone created by the System ten minutes ago even know about that?


    "Today, when I was nearly collapsing from exhaustion and finally made it to your university campus, this... this thing in an orange construction uniform holding a Stop sign rushed me from the side and almost cut me in half,¡± Nessy resumed her tale. ¡°It¡­ he looked almost human but wrong, like he was made of wax and static, an unfinished idea of a man. I fought him with everything I had. Tore into him with my teeth and claws, chewed his throat open."


    She exhaled. "When he died, silver text appeared offering me a companion. Without even thinking, I answered ''I just want to find my best friend, Alec! Take me to him!'' And then¡­ the statue-like corpse of the thing holding the Stop sign shattered with a bright flash and you were there!¡±


    I opened my mouth, but had no idea what to say. I had no way to prove to the human-dog Nessy that it was me who killed the conceptoid and created her.


    ¡°It was totally nuts!¡± She echoed my thoughts. ¡°But, honestly none of that crazy bullshit matters now because you''re here! Because finding you¡ªthat made it all okay. Because no matter where we are, if we''re together, we can handle it!" She declared. "Right?"


    Together.


    On one hand it felt nice to have someone to talk to after weeks of fermenting in a tub. On the other hand, I didn¡¯t know if I could trust a companion with a dubious backstory born from a horrid abomination that scooped out my insides like a child craving ice cream. What if she turned back into the conceptoid at night and decided to snack on me?


    Nessy''s ears twitched, her nose suddenly lifting to sniff the air as she stood upright from her crouched pose.


    "Water," she said, pivoting toward the caf¨¦''s back area. "I smell it. Cold water."


    I followed her through the debris-strewn coffee shop, stepping over toppled tables and chairs. Strange gray moss covered much of the interior, blue dots blooming from it casting an eerie blue glow across the wreckage. Freakish plants had erupted through the floorboards with leaves that looked like folded receipts and stems that resembled coffee stirrers twisted into organic shapes. A mermaid logo hung from the wall covered in cracks. The mermaid held an oversized coffee cup with the letter G logo on it eerily similar to the one on my construction uniform.


    Behind the counter, a small refrigerator hummed softly. Nessy pulled open the door, revealing a flickering light bulb and several untouched water bottles, their condensation suggesting they were perfectly chilled.


    "How the hell is that fridge even working?" I wondered aloud. "There''s no electricity."


    Nessy grabbed two bottles, offering one to me twisting the other open with her fuzzy hands. "Eh, nothing works the way it used to," she said between gulps. "The System changed the rules. Some technology runs without power and fuel now. Other things that should work just... don''t."


    The water was gloriously cold and clean. I drained half the bottle in one go, my new body apparently just as susceptible to thirst as my old one had been.


    ¡°See, I¡¯ve procured you water!¡± Nessy said. ¡°Aren¡¯t you glad? Hrrrm. You don¡¯t look or smell glad. What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    "You know way too many things," I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "Personal things about me. Things that a freshly-created... whatever you are... really shouldn''t know."


    Nessy capped her empty bottle, her blue eyes meeting mine with unexpected intensity. "Because I''m not freshly created. I don¡¯t understand why you keep saying these hurtful things, Alec. Don¡¯t you remember when we got lost hiking in the Clashridge Mountain? We ended up spending the night huddled under that outcropping during the thunderstorm and you promised to me that after university that you¡¯d come back to Ferguson¡­"


    Her words made my skin crawl.


    ¡°I went to Clashridge¡­ alone, four years ago,¡± I said sharply. ¡°You died by then. You died a long time ago, Ness. Huskies don¡¯t live more than 15 years.¡±


    ¡°I died?! What are you talking about? Dogs live as long as people do!¡± She barked. ¡°I''m twenty three!¡±


    If anything, her words made the situation more disturbing.


    ¡°Seriously, stop looking at me like that!¡± She growled.


    ¡°Like what?¡±


    ¡°Like you aren''t happy to see me! I missed you so much Alec, I missed you everyday since you left Ferguson!¡±


    I sighed, trying to relax my expression. There was no point in antagonizing my System-manufactured ¡®companion¡¯.


    ¡°You¡¯re still doing it,¡± she pointed out, digging through the rubble filling the cafe until she located a small bag and began to stuff it with the rest of the water bottles.


    "What am I doing exactly?"


    ¡°Looking at me like you don¡¯t trust me!¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t help it,¡± I said.


    ¡°Whyyy?¡± She whined.


    ¡°Because I don¡¯t trust you,¡± I said honestly. "You''re not a dog. You''re a fully sapient being with high-level reasoning and your own agenda, thoughts and desires that I don''t really know anything about."


    "Again with that nonsense?!" Nessy''s ears flattened against her head, and her tail drooped low behind her. The hurt in her eyes was palpable, making me feel like I''d just kicked a puppy. "I already told you what my desires were - to find and help my best friend!"


    "Look," I continued, trying to soften my tone, "I grew up without friends in Ferguson. Like I already told you¨CI was killed by thugs looking for my brother. I woke up in a rotting bathtub long after the System... did whatever it did to the world. I killed a monster that tried to disembowel me, was offered a companion by the System and then suddenly you appeared from its corpse, claiming to be my childhood dog-friend or whatever." I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the grime and dried blood that still clung to it. "So forgive me if I''m having trouble processing all this."


    Nessy turned away from me, starting to rummage through the debris behind the counter. "I''m not claiming anything," she muttered, pulling open drawers and cabinets. "I know who I am. I know what we''ve been through together. If you don''t remember, that''s not my fault."


    She moved with an odd grace¨Cpart human dexterity, part canine intensity¨Cas she searched through the ruined caf¨¦. Her claws clicked against the tile floor, her nose twitching as she sniffed at various containers.


    "Agfff. There has to be food somewhere," she grumbled, pushing aside a fallen shelf. "Caf¨¦s always have food. Pastries. Sandwiches. Something."


    I watched her hunt, noting how her ears swiveled independently, catching sounds I couldn''t hear.


    "What did you eat before... before finding me?" I asked after a deep pause, curiosity getting the better of me.


    "Whatever I could find," she replied without looking up. "Canned goods mostly. Some wild game when I could catch it. A deer once, that was good." She paused, noticing my expression. "What? I''m a dog, Alec. Raw meat doesn''t bother me."


    She continued her search, growing increasingly frustrated as she found nothing but moldy remains and empty containers. "Bah. Everything''s been picked clean. Scavengers must have been through here already."


    "Human scavengers?" I asked, suddenly concerned.


    "Maybe. Or something less rational since the water bottles were left," Nessy straightened up, dusting off her paws. "The world''s full of hungry things now. Things that shouldn¡¯t be hungry and yet are.¡±


    I shuddered.


    ¡°We should keep looking for food,¡± she added. ¡°I''m not starving yet, but we should plan ahead. Remember that time we went camping and you forgot to pack enough granola bars? We had to forage for berries, and you got that awful rash because you couldn''t tell the difference between blackberries and poison ivy."


    I sighed.


    It was as if every anecdote she shared was specifically designed to validate her existence, creating a shared history that never happened.


    ¡°Yes, yes, I know, I¡¯m a chatter-bark,¡± she commented with a sniff in my direction. ¡°I''ve been waiting to talk to you for four years! There''s so much that I''m just bursting to say! Do you have any idea what it''s like for a dog to lose her best friend, her pack leader? Some days I thought that you aren''t ever coming back, you know.¡±


    ¡°What, you didn¡¯t go to dog college?¡± I asked sarcastically.


    ¡°I went to trade school in Ferguson,¡± she replied. ¡°Then apprenticed as a mechanic at Will¡¯s Wheels.¡± She snapped one of the belts of her bib overalls pointing at a faded W&W stitched logo. ¡°See?¡±


    Riiiight. I thought sarcastically. Nessy worked as a mechanic at Will¡¯s Wheels. A ludicrously complicated backstory for a manufactured companion, System.


    ¡°You look like you don¡¯t believe me,¡± she huffed.


    ¡°No, I do not,¡± I replied.


    ¡°Argh!¡± She growled and dug into her bib overalls pocket and pulled out a phone, rapidly tapping it.


    ¡°How about this then?!¡± She thrust the phone at my face. ¡°Go ahead, deny photographic evidence, you big jerk!¡±


    There was a photo of Nessy throwing a thumbs up from under a car, holding a wrench.


    "What the shit," I snatched the phone from her hands, scrolling frantically through the photo gallery.


    I saw Nessy posing next to various disassembled cars, a variety of selfies at Ferguson lake, at Miller''s and all over my home town.


    Nessy standing next to the weirdly named ''GrrWolf & Fox Industries'' Mill. Nessy in graduation robes with a cap perched between her pointed ears, posing with what appeared to be her family¡ªother husky-people with varying coat patterns.


    Photos of places I recognized from Ferguson¡ªthe old clock tower downtown, the quarry where I''d nearly drowned, Main Street during the winter festival¡ªbut all featuring a mix of humans and dog-people going about their daily lives as if it were the most natural thing in the world.


    ¡°That¡¯s not possible,¡± I uttered, staring through the phone screen into a window of another world, an alien universe with far too much detail to it to be fake.


    "Keep going," Nessy urged, her tail swishing nervously. "There''s¡­ more."


    My thumb swiped to a video thumbnail. Nessy sitting on what looked like her bed, acoustic guitar in her lap, staring directly at the camera.


    "I learned to play guitar over the years and wrote this song for you," she said softly. "I never sent it though. Too embarrassing."


    With a growing sense of unreality, I pressed play.


    The Nessy in the video adjusted the guitar, cleared her throat, and began strumming.


    "Hey Alec, it''s me again," she spoke into the camera. "I know you''re busy with university and everything, but... I really freaking miss you. So I wrote this. Don''t laugh, okay?"


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    She began to play, her claws picking out the melody. Then she sang, her voice was surprisingly melodic, with a slight southern rasp that gave it character.


    "Summer nights at Ferguson Quarry</a>,


    Two kids with nothing but time.


    You promised you''d come back to me,


    But four years passed with no sign.


    We swore blood oaths on Clashridge Peak,


    Stars burning witness to our pact.


    Your blade on my paw, my teeth on your palm,


    ''Together forever'' - was that just an act?


    Our names gouged deep in that lightning-scarred oak,


    I trace those letters when I feel alone.


    You promised the world wouldn''t pull us apart,


    Now I howl your name to a sky made of stone.¡±


    I swallowed, feeling her emotions pouring from the screen.


    "I''m not asking for forever,


    Just a call to know you''re there.


    This small town feels like a prison now,


    When you''re gone and I don''t know where.


    Remember that rainstorm in May?


    We hid in the cave by the lake.


    You said friends like us never drift apart,


    Was that just another mistake?


    You stood tall when those kids mocked my fur,


    Threw punches when they pulled my tail.


    You bloodied your knuckles for me that day,


    ''Touch her again and I''ll break your jaw,'' you said.


    Then held me close as I shook with tears,


    Whispered ''They fear what they can''t control.''


    Said my white-tipped hair and sky-blue eyes


    Were the windows to my caring soul."


    Nessy sang of places that I knew and of events that never happened to me there.


    "Breaking into that abandoned mill,


    Rusty machines and graffiti walls.


    Climbing that bell tower at St. Mary''s church,


    Daring each other through darkened halls,"


    She sang. I didn''t have a buddy when I explored the local abandoned mill and church tower, went there alone.


    "In this town where nothing ever changes,


    Same faces at Miller''s every night.


    While you''re out there chasing bigger dreams,


    I''m stuck fixing cars in fading light.


    Remember those nights on the water tower,


    Naming constellations in the sky?


    You''d point out worlds beyond our reach,


    As small-town troubles seemed to die.


    Blankets spread on your pickup bed,


    Watching meteors streak the night.


    You promised we''d see the northern lights,


    Together when the time was right."


    She strummed.


    "So I''ll hold onto these memories,


    Of the boy who knew me best.


    My best friend somewhere out there,


    While I''m here, howling into vast emptiness.


    Ohh-woo-woooooo!"


    Her song concluded with a doggy howl and a guitar solo that caused my heart to accelerate, my brain drowning in waves of deep d.


    The video ended, and I stared at the dark screen, my throat tight with emotions I couldn''t begin to untangle.


    "I kept thinking I''d improve it, make it better,¡± she chattered. ¡°That you''d come home for the holidays and I wouldn''t need to send it, sing it to you live. But you never came, not even during summer break."


    I mentally tried to reconcile the video and photos I''d just witnessed with what I knew, my brain feeling like it was boiling out of my ears.


    Then I noticed that the phone battery was at [0%]. I waited a few seconds for her phone to die on me and yet it didn¡¯t.


    ¡°Is your phone battery status bar broken?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Nah,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s been stuck at zero for days now. Par end of the world, I guess. I''ve been using it to take pictures of all the weird stuff I''ve seen since Systemfall day." Her expression brightened. "Want to see? There was this tree growing out of an ATM that had leaves that looked like twenty-dollar bills, and¡ª"


    "Later," I cut her off, giving her the phone back, worried that the overgrown cafe wasn''t the best place for looking over photos.


    "You really don''t remember any of this, do you?" She asked with a sour expression.


    ¡°No,¡± I shook my head. ¡°I¡¯m not your Alec and you¡¯re not my Nessy.¡±


    ¡°But,¡± she let out. ¡°You are¡­ you have to be! I¡­ I wrote that song for YOU! Aren¡¯t you impressed? Don''t you like it?¡± The last word came out with a desperate whine.


    ¡°It¡¯s a very nice song.¡± I said, firing up a big wide smile on her face. ¡°But it¡¯s not for me. I¡¯ve never made promises to you, just met you today. I''m sorry," I said, meaning it.


    ¡°But, but,¡± her smile crashed into the abyss. She suddenly grabbed my hand, poking at my palm with her claws. ¡°Look. There¡¯s my bite mark from when we made a blood-pact to be best friends forever!¡±


    ¡°No. That¡¯s from a time when my¡­ Nessy bit me accidentally when we were roughhousing,¡± I explained. ¡°There were no blood pacts or anything, since she could not speak.¡±


    The Nessy in front of me frowned.


    "Either your memories are wrong, or mine are,¡± I said.


    "But..." She trailed off, ears flattening against her head. The look of deep hurt in her eyes made something twist in my chest. Her tail hung limp behind her, no longer swishing with its previous animation.


    Sure, it would be easy to just lie to her, to pretend to be the Alec she knew, but I¡¯ve been lied to far too many times by my parents about far too many things and simply couldn¡¯t stand befriending someone new based on falsehoods.


    I sighed, running a hand through my grimy hair. "Look, I don''t know what''s happening here. Maybe we''re both right in different ways. Maybe the System did... something to both of us."


    "Or maybe you just hit your head really hard," Nessy muttered, but there was less conviction in her voice now. She stared down at her paw-hands, flexing her claws thoughtfully. "Maybe this is just another excuse to get away from me, hrmmm?"


    "Excuse me?" I said, startled by the accusation. "Why would I need an excuse to get away from someone I just met?"


    Nessy''s ears flattened further, her blue eyes narrowing. "Maybe you just didn''t want to come back to Ferguson after university. Maybe you met a cheeky fox, a bird, or even another dog and it was easier to pretend you never knew me than to tell me to my face that you''d outgrown your small-town best friend! Maybe I¡¯m too clingy, too needy, too chatty or too annoying! I don¡¯t effin¡¯ know why you stopped replying to my texts!"


    "I never¡ª" I started, then stopped. There was no point arguing with her version of reality backed by photographic evidence. ¡°Can we start over?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± She blinked, her eyes sparkling with wetness.


    ¡°Start over. Treat me like you just met me please,¡± I said, extending my hand. ¡°Hi. I¡¯m Alec. It¡¯s nice to meet you.¡±


    She squinted at me, but shook my hand regardless.


    "Nessy." Her grip was firm, almost defiant. "Nice to meet you too, I guess."


    We stood awkwardly for a moment, the weight of two conflicting realities hanging between us. Outside, something howled in the distance¡ªa sound like static and wind funneled through a broken trumpet.


    "Now," I said, breaking the silence, "whether we knew each other before or not doesn''t matter right now. What matters is that we''re both here, alive, and the world has gone completely insane. We should¡ª"


    A crash from the street cut me off. Both of us ducked instinctively, crouching behind the caf¨¦ counter.


    Nessy''s ears swiveled toward the noise, her nose twitching as she scented the air.


    "Something big... very dangerous," she whispered, trembling. "Smells like... burning plastic and ozone."


    I risked a glance over the counter. Through the shattered caf¨¦ windows, I could see a massive shape moving down the street. It resembled a city bus that had been partially melted and then reshaped into something vaguely arachnid. Its wheels had fused into jointed legs made from traffic lights, and what had once been passenger windows now housed pulsing, membranous sacs that glowed with an internal orange light.


    "We should go," I breathed, sinking back down. "Out the back."


    Nessy nodded.


    "Follow me," she mouthed, fluidly dropping to all fours.


    We crept through the kitchen area, past overgrown refrigerators. The back door was half-blocked by what appeared to be a growth of chairs¡ªactual wooden chairs that had somehow rooted themselves into the floor and walls, their legs elongated into branch-like structures.


    "Hold this," Nessy whispered, handing me the bag of water bottles. She approached the chair-growth, examining it with narrowed eyes before carefully pushing apart two of the structures. The wood creaked and bent under her hands as she growled. "Quick, through here."


    I squeezed through the opening she''d created, finding myself in a narrow alley behind the caf¨¦. The buildings on either side leaned inward, their architecture warped as if they were melting in slow motion. Roots and vines crawled up the walls, but these weren''t normal plants¡ªsome had leaves that looked like flattened tin cans, others bore fruit that resembled small, glowing light bulbs.


    Nessy slipped through after me, her fur catching slightly on the wooden growths. "Which way?" she asked, standing upright again and taking back the bag.


    I looked both ways down the alley. To the left, it ended in a tangle of what looked like office furniture that had grown together into an impenetrable thicket. To the right, the passage opened onto another street.


    "Right," I decided, squeezing my Stop sign weapon.


    The galvanized steel pole felt reassuringly solid in my hand¡ªsomething real and tangible in a world gone mad. The metal was cool against my palm, its weight a reminder that whatever else had changed, physics still seemed to work more or less the same way.


    I mentally assured myself that I was ready to stab whatever questionable thing came my way next.


    We stepped out of the weird tunnel into what once was a street, stepping carefully around a cluster of small mushroom-like light bulb growths that pulsed with an internal light.


    We cautiously rounded the corner of the building when a tinkling sound like crystal wind chimes drew our attention upward. Hanging from the twisted branches of an electricity pole-tree above us was a massive crystal chandelier, its facets glittering with unnatural internal light.


    As we stared at it, the chandelier began to vibrate, sections of it detaching and taking flight¡ªhundreds of insect-like creatures with translucent wings and light bulb bodies that pulsed with colored light in patterns reminiscent of small light bulbs.


    They swarmed out of the chandelier and rushed toward us in a cloud of aggressive electric hues, the first one landing on my arm with a painful zap that left my skin smoking.


    "Run!" I yelled, swatting frantically at the electric bee that had already burned a small hole through my coveralls.


    Nessy let out a yelp as several of the creatures landed in her fur, their tiny bodies flashing red-green-blue before delivering jolts of electricity that made her howl. We sprinted down the broken street, ducking and weaving through the swarm as more of the little, vile things detached from the hive-chandelier.


    I swung the stop sign wildly through the air, the flat surface connecting with several of the glass and metal insects and sending them spiraling to the ground in bursts of miniature lightning. Each impact sent painful tingles of current up my arms, but I kept swinging, creating enough space for us to keep moving forward.


    Nessy was less coordinated in her defense, alternating between swatting with her clawed hands and shaking her entire body like a dog ridding itself of water, her whimpers turning to growls of pain as more of the light-bees found purchase in her fur.


    We dove through the shattered display window of what had once been a department store, glass fragments crunching beneath our feet as we rolled across dusty tile.


    For some reason, the swarm hesitated at the threshold, their lights dimming slightly in the gloom of the abandoned building. I grabbed Nessy''s arm and pulled her deeper into the shadows as the creatures buzzed angrily outside, their collective illumination casting eerie, shifting patterns across the walls.


    "Weird. They don''t like the dark," I whispered, my voice hoarse from the exertion of running as I examined the constellation of small burn marks decorating both our bodies, Nessy''s white fur visibly singed in dozens of tiny patches.


    As we caught our breath in the dark recesses of the abandoned department store, silver text flickered into existence.


    [Termination of Level 1 Bulbee Swarm: 17 units. Minimal reward threshold achieved. Would you like to claim a reward? Y/N].


    I didn''t hesitate, calling out "Yes!" into the darkness, hoping for something useful.


    The text shimmered briefly before a small object materialized between us on the rubble pile - what appeared to be half a sandwich wrapped in crumpled, yellowed plastic. The bread was visibly moldy at the edges, and there was a distinct bite mark where someone (or something) had already taken a chunk out of it.


    The text flashed above the sandwich, tagging it:


    [Half-consumed nutrient pack. Flaw: One week past expiry date.]


    Nessy''s eyes widened, her tail suddenly wagging with excitement as she stared at the floating text and the materialized sandwich.


    "Magic sandwich!" she yipped, looking from the disgusting food item to me with a broad doggy grin. "Ha!"


    She bounced slightly on her haunches, her earlier pain from the burns seemingly forgotten. Her ears perked up high on her head as she circled the sandwich, sniffing and pawing at it curiously, completely ignoring its obvious unappetizing nature.


    She unwrapped the sandwich with unexpected dexterity, her clawed fingers delicately peeling back the yellowed plastic. She brought it to her nose and took a deep, appreciative sniff, her tail wagging furiously.


    "Mmm, egg, tuna and... something else," she declared, her tongue flicking out to lick her chops. "Kinda smells like those egg salad sandwiches they used to serve in the cafeteria on Thursdays."


    "You better not eat that," I warned, reaching to snatch it from her paws, but she deftly twisted away, holding the revolting prize just out of my reach. "I''m serious, Nessy. That thing materialized from thin air and it''s already been bitten by God knows what. Plus it''s moldy."


    She gave me a look of mock offense, her blue eyes twinkling with mischief.


    "Says the human who I once watched eat a hot dog he found in his pocket after football practice," she quipped, eyeing the sandwich with profound sadness. "Fine. But if we starve to death, I''m totally blaming you and your sudden newfound food standards.¡±


    She re-wrapped the sandwich and shoved it in her blue bib overalls front chest pocket.


    ¡°It''s for later,¡± she replied to my look of judgement. ¡°When your standards drop due to starvation and you''ll beg me for a snack and I''ll be like¨C''bam, the sandwich of life'' and you¡¯re gonna be like ¡®Wow, you''re such a good and wise doggo.¡¯ See? Planning ahead!¡±


    I shuddered, hoping that I wouldn¡¯t have to reach a state in which I had to eat a questionable summoned sandwich.


    ¡°Hrm, if there are rewards, are there levels?¡± She pondered.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I said.


    "Stats!" She declared into the air.


    I watched as Nessy stared expectantly at nothing, her eyes widening and tail wagging with excitement. After a few seconds, her expression shifted to disappointment.


    "Does it not work like that?" she asked, tilting her head and giving the air another expectant stare. "Stats, please? Character sheet? Attributes? Player information?"


    "Stats," I muttered and suddenly silver text loading bars flashed into existence atop both of our heads.


    [Companion interface requested. Loading mutual infoid-statistics.]


    In another minute, two transparent windows appeared, one showing information about me, the other about Nessy:


    | Name: Alec Benoit Foster


    | Age: 23


    | Species & Subtype: Human (Reconstituted)


    | Core Affinity: Reconstitution


    | Level: 1


    | Health: 94/100 | Reconstitution: 0/100


    | Strength: 12


    | Agility: 2


    | Dexterity: 10


    | Vitality: 29


    | Charisma: 7


    | Foresight: 0


    | Intelligence: 35


    | Wisdom: 28


    | Skills: Reconstitution (Inactive)


    | Name: Nessy Rex Whitepaw


    | Species & Subtype: Predavarian - Husky


    | Core Affinity: Scrutiosmia


    | Level: 1


    | Health: 87/100 | Scrutiosmia: 33/100


    | Strength: 21


    | Agility: 27


    | Dexterity: 23


    | Vitality: 12


    | Charisma: 16


    | Foresight: 28


    | Intelligence: 1


    | Wisdom: 1


    | Skills: Scrutiosmia


    ¡°He he, numbers,¡± she commented, looking over the chart floating above me and then at her own chart, which floated down from her head to her arm.

 3 Pradavarians

    ¡°You¡¯re at 129 total,¡± I commented. ¡°I¡¯m at 125.¡±


    "Ain''t you a math wizard," Nessy teased, her fluffy tail swishing as she studied her stats with obvious pride. ¡°Hmmm. Look at all that agility. Am fast doggo.¡±


    I frowned at my own stat window, particularly at the [Reconstitution: 0/100] that seemed to mock me with its sad zero. My fingers again unconsciously rubbed the scars where the conceptoid had torn me open, now fully healed but still tender.


    "What''s ''Scrutiosmia''?" I asked, pointing at her Core Affinity.


    Nessy''s ears perked up, her tail wagging with pride. "Oh! I think I¡¯ve been using it all week, without actually knowing that it was a System core skill with numbers n¡¯ stuff. It means I can smell... deeper than normal."


    ¡°Oh? Deeper how?¡±


    "Deeper to the n''th degree!" She tapped her black nose with a grin. "Not just surface scents, but emotions, intentions, even the past or the future sometimes. It''s like... smell-vision but for everything."


    "Smell-vision?" I repeated skeptically.


    "Yeah! It¡¯s how I found these waters so quick and easy. And how I found you all the way from Ferguson. And¡­ Like, right now how am smelling that... you''re distrustful, hurt and exhausted," She sniffed pointedly and frowned. "And... I can also smell that your clothing belonged to a construction worker who ate onion rings regularly and had an orange cat."


    "That''s... actually impressive, especially the cat''s color... if you''re not making that up," I admitted.


    "Am not!" She shook her mane. "Hey, cheer up! I bet your ''Reconstitution'' is really cool too. Can you regrow limbs? That would be handy."


    "I could, the conceptoid bastard nearly chopped my arm off. Sadly, it''s at zero now," I explained with a sigh, gesturing at my stats. "I used it all up poorly fighting for my life."


    Nessy''s joyful demeanor faltered slightly. "So... if something tears you apart again, you won''t heal?"


    "That appears to be the case," I confirmed grimly.


    She stared at me for a long moment, her expressive blue eyes searching my face. Then she straightened up, squaring her dark, fluffy shoulders beneath her mechanic''s overalls.


    "Well, that settles it," she declared. "I''ll just have to protect you until your magic healing juice refills!"


    "I don''t need protection," I protested automatically.


    Nessy gave me a skeptical look, gesturing at the sliced holes, blood spots and burn marks scattered across my orange coveralls from the light-bees. "Sure, tough guy. You''re doing great so far. Anyways, we need food and I think it might be time to sniff extra hard for such!"


    She closed her eyes, her nose twitching rapidly as she took several deep breaths. The stat window above her showing [Scrutiosmia: 33/100] start to drain, ticking down to [32/100] and then [29/100] as she inhaled deep a few times, spinning in one spot, fluffy ears twitching.


    "There are seventeen people within half a mile of us," she announced, eyes still closed. "Three of them smell... wrong. Broken. Fused with another idea. Hollow. Emptied. Unfinished. Like the conceptoid we fought. Two more smell like... ugh, like they''re decomposing but still walking." Her nose wrinkled. "And beyond that¡ªooh! There''s a stockpile of canned food about three blocks west. Beans, mostly. Some fruit cocktail. And¡ª" her eyes snapped open, wide with excitement, "¡ªdog treats! Actual, proper, artificially-flavored bacon dog treats! Ahhh! Want!"


    I stared at her. "You can smell all that?"


    "Yep!" She grinned, showing slightly pointed canines. "I''ve always had a good sniffer, but after the System came, it got... supercharged n'' stuff." She tapped the side of her nose. "I can smell so many emotions! All the emotions. Like right now, you''re skeptical with a hint of impressed, and..." she leaned closer, sniffing, "...very hungry! Ha!¡±


    "Fine, I am. Let''s go find that food stockpile," I said. "I''d rather eat actual food than your pocket sandwich."


    "Hey! Don''t disrespect Sandwichu. He might save your life someday!" she protested, patting her pocket protectively.


    "...Did you just name the sandwich?"


    "Of course. Everything tastes better when you name it first," she said with complete seriousness.


    "I''m not naming my food."


    "Your loss, buddy." She swatted me with her fluffy tail.


    We made our way deeper into the department store, navigating through overturned racks of clothing that had begun to fuse together into grotesque and bewildering textile reefs. What had once been mannequins stood in frozen poses, their plastic skin partially melted and reformed into unsettling organic textures. One appeared to be growing hair¡ªactual human hair¡ªthat cascaded down its back in a rippling black wave.


    "Yeesh. This place gives me the creeps," Nessy muttered, staying close to my side.


    "Says the humanoid dog who thinks a moldy sandwich is a suitable pet," I quipped.


    "Hey, Sandwichu takes offense to that statement," she retorted, but I could see her ears were still flattened with anxiety.


    "I''m not eating that moldy abomination," I muttered, but my stomach chose that moment to growl traitorously.


    "Your tummy disagrees," she smirked. "But don''t worry¡ªwe can totally get to those yummy canned foodle goods if we''re careful. Just have to avoid the, you know, undead and the not-quite-people and other moving things. I sniffed the safest way there, so we should be okay.¡±


    I glanced around the dimly lit department store, trying to get my bearings.


    More mannequins stood in eerie poses throughout the space, sprouting what looked like television antennas from their heads.


    Clothing racks had fused together in vinelike tangles, and from the ceiling hung what appeared to be lighting fixture flowers that occasionally pulsed with a dim, organic light.


    "Alright," I said, gripping my stop sign tighter. "Lead the way to the food, Scrutiosmia-girl."


    Nessy struck a dramatic superhero pose. "Scrutiosmia-girl, away!" she declared. "Always wanted to do that. Come on."


    She moved with grace through the debris-strewn store, her nose constantly working as she navigated us toward a back exit. I followed, trying to step where she stepped, trusting her enhanced senses more than my own.


    We passed through a doorway into what had once been the home goods section. Kitchen appliances had partially merged with the floor and walls, creating grotesque sculptures. A refrigerator had sprouted arms made of metal shelving that reached toward the ceiling. A row of microwave ovens pulsed with faint blue light, their doors opening and closing in a slow, synchronized rhythm.


    "Sheet. Are those... breathing?" Nessy whispered, pointing to the microwaves.


    "I really hope not," I replied, giving the appliances a wide berth.


    Walking through the lingerie section, I noticed something odd¡ªthe mannequins here seemed to be... watching us. Their featureless heads turned slightly as we passed, tracking our movement with an attentiveness that sent chills down my spine.


    "Uh, Nessy?" I whispered, nudging her and pointing.


    She glanced back, her ears immediately flattening against her head. "Yeah, I see them. Don''t make eye contact¡ªor, uh, face-contact, since they don''t have eyes. Yet."


    "Yet?!"


    "Keep moving," she hissed, her pace quickening. "These ones only animate fully if they think you''re shopping."


    "How could they possibly¡ªhow do you even know that?!"


    "Scrutiosmia," she replied as if that explained anything, pulling me away from the lingerie shop.


    I glanced at her stats. Her Scrutiosmia now sat at [28/100].


    We hurried through the remainder of the store, emerging into a loading dock area where delivery trucks had once brought merchandise. Now, the concrete pad was cracked and buckled, with strange, metallic plants growing up through the fissures. They resembled coat hangers that had been twisted into botanical shapes, their "leaves" thin sheets of plastic price tags that rustled in a breeze I couldn''t feel.


    Nessy led us down an alley, then across what had once been a small parking lot but was now a field of shopping carts half-submerged in the asphalt, their handles reaching upward like the arms of drowning swimmers.


    "Don''t step there or you''ll sink too," she advised.


    I nodded with a gulp.


    "It''s just ahead," she whispered, pointing to a squat brick building with the faded letters "MINI-MART" still visible above its entrance.


    We approached cautiously, Nessy constantly sniffing the air, her ears swiveling to catch any sound. The mini-mart''s windows were intact but opaque with a layer of dust and something that resembled frost but shimmered with rainbow colors when light caught it.


    "I don''t like this," I muttered, tightening my grip on the stop sign. "It''s too... undisturbed."


    "That''s ''cus someone''s been here recently," Nessy confirmed, her nose working overtime. "Human, I think. But they''ve gone now." She sniffed again. "Left maybe an hour ago. We should be okay¡­ I think. This place smells¡­ safe. Extra safe. Trust me.¡±


    I chose not to question her instincts.


    We pushed through the front door, a bell jingling cheerfully above us¡ªa sound so ordinary it felt alien in this transformed world. Inside, the mini-mart was surprisingly well-preserved. Shelves stood in neat rows, most of them empty but structurally intact. The refrigerator units along the back wall hummed softly, their glass doors frosted over so completely I couldn''t see what, if anything, lay inside.


    "The canned goods are over there," Nessy pointed, already merrily bounding toward a back section of shelves.


    I followed more slowly, scanning our surroundings. Something about this place felt off, like a trap waiting to be sprung. The calm normalcy was uncanny after the chaos outside.


    Nessy had already reached the shelves and was excitedly pawing at several cans. "Beans! Just like I smelled. And look¡ªfruit cocktail! And..." her voice dropped to a reverent whisper, "...beef ravioli. Ahhhh! Eeeeee!"


    She began stuffing cans into her makeshift bag, squeeing, her tail wagging so hard her entire rear swayed with it.


    "Slow down," I cautioned, still scanning the store. "We need to be methodical. Check expiration dates. Make sure the cans aren''t bulging."


    "Yeah, yeah," she replied distractedly, examining a can of corn. "Hey, do you prefer peaches or pears?"


    "Either is fine," I said, moving toward the counter area, curious to see if there might be any useful supplies there.


    As I approached, I noticed something behind the register¡ªa jacket hanging on a hook, still looking relatively new. Beneath it, a small backpack rested against the wall.


    It was then that I noticed that small, yellow, post-it notes with eyes, noses and ears drawn on them were taped all over the counter and random shelves.


    "Someone''s definitely been using this place," I called to Nessy, who was now happily sniffing each can before placing it in her bag.


    "Like I told you," she replied without looking up. "About an hour ago. Smells like... human male, maybe forty-ish. Smokes. Alcohol." She paused, her nose wrinkling. "And gun oil."


    The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. "Gun oil?"


    "Yeah, like from a pistol or¡ª" She froze suddenly, her ears shooting straight up. "Shit. Someone''s coming."


    We both went still, listening. At first, I heard nothing, but then¡ªfootsteps, approaching the front door. Heavy boots on pavement.


    "Hide," I hissed, ducking behind the counter.


    Nessy dove behind a display rack just as the bell above the door jingled again. I peered carefully around the edge of the counter to see a tall, broad-shouldered man step inside. He wore stained cargo pants and a denim jacket over a flannel shirt. A lush, ginger beard covered the lower half of his face, and a baseball cap covered in¡­ tinfoil shadowed his eyes. Most concerning of all - a pistol was holstered at his hip.


    The man paused just inside the door. Silver-blue eyes flashed in the dark, staring at a wall.


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    "I know you''re in here," he called out, his voice gravelly but undeniably human. "I can see, smell and hear you. Both of you! Stand up slowly!"


    I exchanged a panicked glance with Nessy, who looked equally alarmed. The man hadn''t moved from his position by the door.


    "Look," he continued, "I''m not looking for trouble. This is my domain and my stash, but I''m willing to share. If," he emphasized the word, "you come out now and we talk like civilized folks."


    Nessy''s nose twitched as she silently communicated with me through exaggerated facial expressions, first pointing to her nose, then giving a half-shrug that I interpreted as "he smells mostly okay." She followed this with a series of complicated gestures that I completely failed to understand, culminating in her pointing urgently at herself and then at the ceiling.


    Before I could decipher her meaning, she stood up, paws raised in a universal "don''t shoot" gesture.


    "Hi there," she said, her tail wagging tentatively. "Sorry about the... uhh... unexpected intrusion. We, uhh¡­ smelled the food and were really hungry!"


    The man stiffened, his hand moving instinctively toward his holstered weapon before stopping halfway. He stared at Nessy with undisguised shock.


    "What the heck are you?" he blurted out.


    Nessy''s ears flattened slightly. "Rude," she muttered, then louder, "I''m a husky."


    ¡°Thought there was something off about you,¡± The ginger-bearded man continued to stare at Nessy. I decided this was as good a moment as any to reveal myself as well, slowly standing up from behind the counter, my stop sign held loosely at my side.


    "Right. There are two of you," the man observed unnecessarily. "A dog... person... and a regular person with a stop sign."


    "That about sums it up," I agreed, trying to sound more confident than I felt.


    The man studied us for another long moment, then let out a bark of laughter. "Well, shit. You''re the most normal thing I''ve seen all week." He removed his hand completely from his weapon and gestured to the cans Nessy had been collecting. "Like I said, I''m willing to share. Got a little kitchen set up in my office at the back. Even rigged up a way to heat food." He paused, looking between us again. "You two... together? Like, traveling companions?"


    "Something like that," I hedged, not wanting to explain our complicated situation to a random stranger.


    "Yep! Best friends since childhood!" Nessy declared simultaneously, causing the man to raise an eyebrow at our contradictory responses.


    "Right..." he drawled. "I''m Calvin. Been holed up here since the world went to shit." He jerked a thumb toward the back of the store. "Come on back if you want a hot meal. Been a while since I talked to anybody who wasn''t trying to eat me or turn me into a chandelier or what-have-you."


    Calvin turned and walked toward the back without waiting for our response. I glanced at Nessy.


    "He seems okay," she whispered after a sniff in his direction. "Smells concerned but... not deceptive. Safe. Definitely safe."


    "Because you''re a dog person," I pointed out. "That would concern anyone."


    "Says the guy holding a stop sign like a battle axe," she retorted, bumping me with her hip as she passed.


    We followed Calvin to a door marked "E?m?p?l?o?y?e?e?s? [Calvin Bo Goulash] Only". A post-it note with a sketch of Calvin hung above it. He pulled out a sticky note and wrote ¡°& guests:¡± on it and looked at us as if he was expecting something.


    ¡°Yes?¡± I asked.


    "Your full names, please," he said. "First, middle, last. Don''t lie to me please, or the note won''t work."


    "Alec Benoit Foster," I offered reluctantly.


    "Nessy Rex Whitepaw!" Nessy declared with considerably more enthusiasm, her tail wagging.


    Calvin nodded, scratching our names onto the sticky note with surprisingly sharp penmanship. Then, to my surprise, he pulled out a small pencil and quickly sketched two remarkably accurate portraits of us¡ªmine looking appropriately suspicious, Nessy''s capturing her doggy grin perfectly¡ªand taped both to the door.


    "There," he said with satisfaction. "Now the door knows you''re allowed in."


    "The door... knows?" I repeated. "What does the door know?"


    "Oh yes," Calvin replied, tapping the door with his knuckles. "Everything knows things now. Especially if you tell it. Haven''t you noticed?"


    As if to prove his point, he turned the handle and the door swung open smoothly, despite the visible rust on its hinges. Beyond was a small office that had been transformed into a surprisingly cozy living space. A camping cot occupied one corner, while a makeshift table fashioned from milk crates and a plywood board dominated the center. Most remarkably, a small cooking station had been set up using what appeared to be a modified hot plate connected to... nothing at all. It sat there, glowing red-hot, with no visible power source.


    "Welcome to Casa de Calvin," he announced, gesturing us inside with a flourish. "Mi apocalypse es su apocalypse."


    The walls were covered with hundreds more sticky notes, each with simple drawings¡ªeyes, ears, noses, mouths, hands¡ªmeticulously arranged in patterns. Above the desk hung a particularly complex arrangement of sketches surrounding a 2025 calendar covered in scribbles.


    "Have a seat," Calvin offered, gesturing to some overturned orange buckets. "I''ll fix us something to eat."


    As he busied himself opening cans and pouring their contents into a small pot on the hot plate, I studied our host more carefully. The tinfoil hat was secured to his baseball cap with what looked like electrical tape. Small sketches of stylized eyes and ears were taped all around the rim of the hat, bigger ones are the back.


    Nessy sniffed appreciatively as the smell of heating beans filled the small room.


    "So," she began, always the more sociable one, "you''ve been here since... everything changed?"


    "Indeed. Since Systemfall," Calvin agreed, stirring the pot. ¡°Aka the day reality got a software update nobody asked for.¡± He sighed wistfully. ¡°The old world made more sense and I¡¯m still figuring out the rules of the new one."


    I exchanged a glance with Nessy, whose ears had perked up with interest.


    "The old world?" I prompted.


    "You know," Calvin waved the spoon expressively, "the one where dogs were just dogs, not people. Where refrigerators didn''t dream about steaks or grow arms or legs to hunt for food in the night. Where the laws of thermodynamics weren''t just strong suggestions."


    Nessy''s tail stopped wagging. "Dogs were... just dogs?" she repeated slowly.


    "Yep. Four legs, fur all over, no talking, no thumbs." Calvin pointed his spoon at her. "No offense, but you definitely look like a System-born merger."


    "Told you,¡± I said.


    Nessy''s ears flattened against her head. "That''s... that''s not right," she muttered. "I''ve always been like this."


    ¡°Have you now?¡± Calvin asked. ¡°Curious.¡±


    Nessy nodded vigorously.


    ¡°Hrm hmmm,¡± he pondered. ¡°I can absolutely check how real you are. One moment.¡±


    He dug deep into his denim jacket pocket and pulled out a device, unfolding it. It looked like a compass duct taped to a prodding stick. He prodded Nessy with it.


    I noted that the compass had a bunch of small notes taped inside it. One said [Entropy] the other [Infinity], the third [Syntropy] and the fourth [Linearity].


    The red arrow spun to [Linearity] and wobbled there.


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Ha,¡± Calvin let out. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be! She¡¯s real. As real as they come!¡±


    ¡°Told you,¡± Nessy jabbed me in the side with a furry elbow, copying my prior words with a snarky expression.


    I glanced at the man¡¯s tinfoil hat, implying that one should not take the opinion of a man in a tinfoil hat too seriously. Nessy rolled her eyes at me, implying that I don¡¯t get to backtrack now that things aren¡¯t going my way.


    Calvin stirred the pot of beans on the impossible hot plate, seemingly unaware of the tension brewing between us.


    "The Identifier generally doesn''t lie, especially in my domain," he said with the certainty of a scientist describing gravity. "Been calibrating it for weeks. It shows what''s real versus what''s System-generated. Linearity generally defines something real, linear."


    "She''s a talking dog," I pointed out.


    "A real talking dog!" Calvin said.


    He prodded me with the Identifier as I tried to come up with a rational rebuttal. The arrow spun lazily and settled on [Linearity].


    "Both of you register as Linear beings," Calvin explained, returning to his bubbling pot of beans. "That means you have consistent internal logic and memory cohesion and follow linear, mundane rules. The arrow doesn''t lie."


    "What do those odd labels even mean?" I asked, pointing at the compass face on his device.


    Calvin''s eyes lit up at my question. He set down his spoon and picked up the Identifier with the reverence of a professor handling a rare artifact.


    "[Linearity] means you''ve got a continuous existence¡ªa coherent before and after," he explained. ¡°[Entropy] is for things that are breaking down, decaying into chaos.


    [Syntropy] is the opposite¡ªthings organizing into impossible complexity. And [Infinity]..." He paused dramatically. ¡°Is some really fucked up shit, really best to be avoided.¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Like an infinite Superstore,¡± he said. ¡°Or an infinite stairwell or hallway. You walk into a place like that, you do NOT walk out.¡±


    I frowned, trying to imagine an infinite Superstore.


    "Linear things and beings work well with other Linear things n'' beings," Calvin said, scratching his ginger beard thoughtfully. ¡°One can trust Linear things not to screw you over at random.¡±


    ¡°Good to know,¡± I nodded, eyeing the smug looking Nessy. ¡°So¡­ if she''s real, how did she get here?¡±


    ¡°Don''t know,¡± Calvin shrugged. ¡°Maybe she fell out of another place and time through an entropic or infinite crack in reality. The point is that she was born au-naturelle, has linear existence. She''s not a broken or conceptually merged thing. Why don''t you tell us how you got here, Nessy!"


    ¡°I¡­ umm, mostly just followed my nose until I found my best friend,¡± Nessy said, eyeing me.


    ¡°A linear path across a non linear space, towards another linear being,¡± Calvin raised a finger sagely. ¡°An excellent choice. One must always have a special, specific destination in mind when traveling across the world now. It''s the best way to survive out here.¡±


    ¡°How do you know that?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Lots of points in Foresight and Wisdom,¡± the bearded man replied.


    We all fell silent at that.


    "What''s with all the sticky notes?" I asked, gesturing at the hundreds of drawings plastered across every surface.


    Calvin grinned, his silver-blue eyes twinkling beneath his tinfoil-lined cap. "Eyes to see, ears to hear, noses to smell, mouths to taste," he explained, once again stirring the beans. "The System rewards observation and interaction. I figured out pretty quick that if I drew these sensory organs and placed them strategically, they''d boost my local awareness."


    "How does that work exactly?" I asked


    "Everything is alive-ish or has potential for being alive now, even concepts. The concept of ''seeing'' exists independent of actual eyeballs. So I draw eyes, and they channel that concept." He gestured proudly at his walls. "Got eyes watching in every direction¡ªnothing sneaks up on ol'' Calvin!"


    He laughed merrily.


    Nessy leaned forward, clearly fascinated. "And the ears? The noses?"


    "Same principle. Ears boost what I can hear, noses what I can smell."


    ¡°And the mouths?¡±


    He pointed to a cluster of crude mouth drawings. "Those are for tasting wrongness and talking to things that shouldn''t be able to talk."


    I glanced at his jacket spotting dozens of tiny hand drawings that formed an intricate pattern. "And those?"


    "Dexterity boosters," Calvin said with a wink. "How do you think I drew such good portraits of you two so quickly?¡±


    ¡°Drawing talent?¡± I threw in a guess.


    ¡°I do have some of that,¡± he agreed. ¡°Was studying to be an interior designer before Systemfall after working in this office for fifteen years. But I honestly wasn¡¯t that good at drawing people or¡­ dogs. My thing was landscape art!¡±


    ¡°So if I got some dexterity in me¡­¡± Nessy contemplated.


    ¡°You can channel it into artifacts and become even handier,¡± Calvin nodded.


    ¡°Eeeee,¡± the husky squeed. ¡°Um, does it have to be sticky notes?¡±


    ¡°Nah,¡± Calvin replied. ¡°They are convenient and relevant for me but you should find a medium that sings, appeals to you best. That and a domain. Like my little office. A place where you feel safe, an environmental-type personal artifact that you know REALLY WELL and can mod and empower basically. I suggest you make an Identifier or two if you have Wisdom for such. Good for avoiding really fucked up places and fucked up things.¡±


    "Is that what the tinfoil hat is for?" I asked, unable to keep the skepticism from my voice. "Protection from... mind-reading conceptoids?"


    Nessy shot me a disapproving look, but Calvin just laughed.


    "Nah, that''s just because I like the fashion statement," he deadpanned, then tapped the foil. "Actually, it''s a Foresight amplifier. The foil catches psychic emanations, and the tiny eyes I''ve drawn around the rim process them into useful precognitive information."


    I blinked, unable to tell if he was joking.


    "You''re serious."


    "Dead serious," Calvin replied, ladling beans into three mismatched bowls. "How do you think I knew you two were coming? How do you think I''ve survived this long?" He handed us each a bowl and a spoon. "The System rewards creativity. Figure out its rules, bend them to your advantage."


    The beans smelled amazing, and my stomach growled in anticipation, but I wasn''t sure if I could trust food from another person.


    Nessy sniffed hers and began wolfing her meal down with characteristic enthusiasm.


    "So," Calvin continued between bites, "you two are newly partnered, huh? System match-made, right?"


    "Something like that," I muttered. ¡°I¡­¡±


    I explained my bath-demise, my awakening, conceptoid encounter and Nessy¡¯s manifestation. Nessy did the same, except from her point of view. Then we revealed our stats and skills.


    ¡°Ah! The ways of Lady Infinity are truly wondrous,¡± Calvin smiled.


    I gave him a concerned look and finally slowly began to eat my beans, hunger winning over paranoia. They tasted... acceptable.


    Calvin set his bowl down and leaned back on his bucket seat. "Systemfall didn¡¯t just change existing physical reality, ya see. It connected an endless myriad of doomed worlds together like patchwork," He gestured between us. "Thus, I reckon you two are both telling the truth¡ªfrom your perspectives.¡±


    Nessy who was done with her food too, her ears perked up in full attention. "So... we could both be right?"


    "In my experience," Calvin said sagely, "you probably are. The System doesn''t create Linear beings from nothing¡ªit merges, steals, blends, restructures existing patterns. It connects things across space and time." He pointed at Nessy with his spoon. "In one world-line, she was just a dog who saved you from drowning. In another, she was always a dog-person, your best friend. Mayhaps... The System, in its infinite wisdom or stupidity, decided both should be true¡­ because that is what you both wished for at the same time but in different places.¡±


    ¡°So if I murder more conceptoids I can assemble a whole gang of questionable characters?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Oi, I¡¯m not questionable,¡± Nessy huffed indignantly. ¡°Take that back!¡±


    ¡°Probably not,¡± Calvin laughed. ¡°That was a random reward that might never come up again. Like pulling a lever at a casino and winning all sevens on two separate slot machines!"


    I leaned back against the wall, trying to process what Calvin was suggesting. For some reason it was easier to believe Nessy was just a System-generated construct rather than accept that multiple realities had been smashed together like some cosmic jigsaw puzzle.


    "You''re saying that somewhere out there is a world where dogs evolved alongside humans as equals?" I asked, gesturing toward Nessy with my spoon.


    "Not just dogs," Calvin replied, refilling our bowls with more beans. "If I''m sensing things right via my eyes and ears... Her world probably had all sorts of sentient animals. Cats running financial institutions. Rabbits doing interior design. Wolves in construction and security. The whole shebang. Right, lassie?"


    Nessy nodded enthusiastically. "Mmph! Yes!!! Exactly! There¡¯s all sorts of Pradavarians where I¡¯m from!¡±


    "So in your world, what did regular, non-sentient animals do? Like, were there still just... regular squirrels?" I asked.


    Nessy tilted her head, confused. "What''s a ''regular'' squirrel? You mean the ones that run the postal service or the ones that manage tree nurseries?"


    ¡°Seriously?¡± I stared at her. ¡°I thought that a human-dog world was bizarre. Now we¡¯re saying every animal where you¡¯re from is sapient?¡±


    ¡°Yep,¡± Nessy nodded.


    ¡°Did you have other¡­ animals in school? Why didn¡¯t I see any other¡­ Pradavarians in your photos?¡±


    ¡°Smol town is smol,¡± she shrugged. ¡°What are you expecting? Fergus isn¡¯t a boiling pot like New York or Seattle.¡±


    Calvin let out a hearty guffaw at my stunned expression, slapping his knee. "See? Different worlds, different evolutionary trees, different rules!"


    ¡°Different evolution?¡± Nessy mulled. ¡°Hum. So your animals aren¡¯t¡­ sapient, can¡¯t talk, don¡¯t walk on two legs?¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Calvin said.


    He flipped a book open and sketched out a dog.


    ¡°This is what our huskies look like,¡± he explained. ¡°They¡¯re pets. Obedient, adorable, helpful, sweet, fluffy¡­ dogs.¡±


    Nessy stared at the sketch with a ¡®WTF¡¯ expression.


    "That''s a dog," I said.