Blue Screens of Death

  A System Apocalypse Short Story

  By

  Tao Wong

  License Notes

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Blue Screens of Death: A System Apocalypse short story

  Copyright © 2021 Tao Wong. All rights reserved.

  A Starlit Publishing Book

  Published by Starlit Publishing

  PO Box 30035

  High Park PO

  Toronto, ON

  M6P 3K0

  Canada

  www.starlitpublishing.com

  ISBN: 9781989994689

  Contents

  Blue Screens of Death

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  About the Publisher

  Short stories in the System Apocalypse universe

  Blue Screens of Death

  A snort, a twist of his head. Skin, stuck to damp and sticky plastic, pulled at his cheeks before finally, he managed to pull his head away. A hand came up to touch his face, to trace the ridgelines that sleeping on the keyboard all night long had created. Brown eyes, gummy with sleep, cranked open, and John Lee managed a low groan.

  Where? … How? … John’s muddled thoughts struggled to catch up to his waking mind. It had been decades. Not since the System had appeared had he woken up like this. Turning his aching head, John took in his surroundings.

  His home. The basement apartment suite that he had rented out and stayed in with Anne – no, she called herself something else. Some stupid elf name. What was it again? Luthien– before they had broken up. When he caught her cheating on him with Kevin. Except… did he catch her cheating? Or was that part of the dream and this the reality. The thought was distant, more a recollection of an event that he should know than the vivid memory that it should be.

  His dual monitor set-up was right there. On one, a game ran on it — one of the latest versions of that fantasy book, the Heretic III, with all its scary monsters and intricate storylines. On the other, the code he had been working on as a favour to a friend.

  This isn’t right. I should be… somewhere. Dornalor… the ship. I can’t be here…

  Muddled thoughts bounced around in a frenzy. It had been ages since his mind did that ping-pong ball thing, where it refused to focus. Ever since the Apocalypse, ever since that gene update, he had been fine. He didn’t ache from sleeping in a weird position; he didn’t have blurry eyes from not enough sleep or a pounding headache because he hadn’t had coffee yet.

  His hand shook as he pulled a bar of chocolate towards him. Cheap, store-brand chocolate, but it gave calories and sugar and a little dopamine rush. Except his wrist ached, and he had to try twice to peel it open because the tendinitis was back, along with the weakness in his grip and slight numbness in his fingers.

  “This isn’t real…” John said, drawing a breath. Or was it just a dream? A vivid daydream of a better world, one where I was a… well, not a hero. At least someone who mattered. Where I didn’t hurt every single day; where I wasn’t betrayed because I did the betraying. Where…

  “You awake, John?” A voice. Too familiar, too female.

  John jolted to his feet, wincing as pins and needles made him limp out the door of his bedroom-cum-office towards the living room. Too late. He forgot to lock the door – or maybe she just used her key that she hadn’t given back – because she was here.

  She was tall — taller than his five-foot-seven frame. Because, of course, he dreamed of being taller. Who didn’t? Though… why he wanted to look like Keanu Reeves, he couldn’t understand. He kind of liked being who he was, even if it was a generic, big-nosed, heart-shaped, brown-haired, brown-eyed Chinese man. Nothing wrong with that…

  “Here, I brought breakfast!” Her hands were filled with brown paper bags from his favorite fast-food place. Not the Tim Hortons but the A&W here. Because Canadians had made the brand right and made the food actually good. It amused him that the food was so different. But…

  “Breakfast?” Puzzled, his mind tried to reconcile the dream — her death, their breakup. He never did see her corpse. Never tried to find it.

  Just like he never tried to find his father’s or his sister’s.

  Except, that wasn’t…

  “Yeah. I thought you might want it. I’m kind of beat myself…” She hid a yawn behind a hand, walking over to their small dining table. Over her shoulder, she called out, “You really shouldn’t fall asleep on your computer. You know you shouldn’t.”

  “Where were you?” John said, trying to remember. She had done this… a lot. When they were dating before. Disappearing for ages. In fact, she would say…

  “We had a long game night. So I just kind of slept over.”

  John jerked back, remembering now. Of course. But she had never bought breakfast for him, never walked over and kissed him hungrily, mouth still a little raw from waking up. Never held him tight, pushing her body against his in obvious need. Instead, she’d head to bed, not speaking with him, not…

  “What’s wrong?” Anne said, pulling away as he did not kiss her back.

  “I’m just… uhh… morning breath,” John said, lamely. Then he cursed himself because he should be more assertive. He would be if he could figure out what the hell was going on. “Just… give me a second.”

  “Of course. I’ll be out here.” And then she winked as he stumbled off to the bathroom, leaving him to clean up. To wash away some of the confusion.

  ***

  It didn’t help. The shower, the brushing of the teeth, all of it. Everything felt so normal, so real. The memories of his dream were real too — the time in the Apocalypse and the System. It was all so real, but also, it was fading. Like it was a bad dream, fractured and disappearing.

  “Snap out of it. It was just a dream, right?” he questioned, staring back at himself in the bathroom mirror. Hands clenched around the sink, pain shooting through his wrists and fingers. This was reality. A girlfriend who loved him, a life as a code monkey freelancing when he could, and a beautiful territory to live and explore within.

  Not memories of desperate battles where pain and blood and lives were at stake. No female Samurai by his side, and no male alien lover or mecha at his fingertips. He was no hero, no settlement lord or Paladin.

  Another shake of his head, of lips pressed against his, of a blade sunk deep in his chest. John straightened, touching his unmarked, rather sallow chest. Perhaps he should go to the gym. He kind of liked the body dream John had. Muscular like a gymnast, instead of his less than impressive body.

  Getting dressed was simple, fast. Jeans and a T-shirt. His hands paused at the shirt, the famous saying ‘This is how I roll’ and the d20 staring at him. Remembrance of hiking up Kathleen Lake, of waking up with blue screens pushed at him.

  They faded as he pushed away the dream.

  It was summer, not mid-May. There was no snow, just warmth and long, lazy days where the sun never set. He didn’t walk in on his girlfriend banging another man on his couch. She was right outside, waiting for him…

  Oh.

  She was in his room now and wearing a lot less than even in his dreams. And rather insistent on impressing on him how much she missed him last night.

  ***

  They did not get much done that day. Lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, her sweaty body lying on his, and warmth radiating through their pressed flesh, he could not help but smile. This was good; this was nice.

  What is, is.

  The words rang through his mind, and for some reason, the mantra — the reassurance that had gotten him through some hard days — rang off. Instead of reassurance, it felt wrong now, as if a bell had been rung, but he could not hear it, just feel it in his bones.

  It tore him from his contented reverie and made him antsy. He rolled her off him and resolved to get moving.

  By the time John managed to drag them out of the apartment, they had to have a second shower and change of clothes, and it was late in the day. Since it was a Thursday, that meant the farmer’s market was open. Rather than drive over, the pair decided to walk over, arm-in-arm. The walk through the greenway leading to the river before hitting the Millennium Trail was as beautiful as always. Peaceful. Yet, every once in a while, John would look around, his body tensing as he spotted a squirrel, a nesting bird, or, once, a fast-moving red fox. To his surprise, Luthien never mentioned it, just leaning into his arm and blabbering on about her job as a retail worker.

  It was a nice walk, a peaceful one, and the farmer’s market was as he remembered it. Sparse, with only about a dozen or so tents set-up. Nearly half of them were local farmers, getting rid of their produce, the other half mostly consisting of food vendors. Nothing spectacular, of course, but it was a relaxed evening out.

  “Richard! Grab hold of Howard, will you!” The voice was so familiar that John was turning towards it already, his mouth opening as he got ready to call out to her.

  And there she was, a buxom redhead in plaid shirt and blue jeans, as curvy as he remembered with that smile on her lips that made most men melt and kept the area in front of her farm’s produce table filled. Beside her, rushing to pull back a bouncing, happy Husky, was another redhead, thinner, freckled, but with quite the grin. In moments, he was engaging in conversation with the young lady that Howard had ‘accidentally’ run up to.

  “Richard…” Not the female redhead but the man was who John focused upon. He remembered the smiling youngster, the way he seemed to handle the Apocalypse so well. His last glimpse of him, just before he had rushed off, his face furrowed in concentration as he fired his shotgun, holding the line.

  “Hey!” An elbow in John’s side. He looked down, only to spot Anne glaring at him. “Stick your tongue back in. No flirting with the boys without asking me first.”

  That was a surprise. He didn’t recall telling her about his interest. Not that it ever really came up, except once in a while. Most people, most men, just weren’t that interesting. Physically, they just didn’t do much for him — not unless there was something else beyond the physical. He didn’t recall telling her, but the look she gave him was all too knowing.

  “When… I…” John spoke, hesitantly.

  “I’m not dumb. And it’s okay, he is kind of cute. Though I saw the way your eyes lit up on Lana. You want to buy from them again?” A smile, playing on red lips, teasing.

  “We’ve bought from them? …” Puzzled now. He did not remember that. In fact, he did not remember buying much from the farmer’s market at all. When they first arrived, it was towards the end of the season, and then winter had come and it was gone. And then, the System had arrived and…

  No.

  There was no System.

  John shook his head, letting her lead the way. He could not help but stare a little, but Lana seemed more than used to it. She barely even paid attention to the dumb and mute Chinese man watching her as his girlfriend bought kale and radishes and tomatoes.

  Why would she? A pale and thin programmer man wasn’t exactly anything to write home about. Especially for someone who obviously loved the outdoors and the farming life like she did.

  Then they were done, and with one bag of vegetables that they were not likely to cook before at least half of it went bad, they wandered off into Shipyard’s Park to find a place to eat. The flat ground with the single hill where kids ran around screaming was beautifully lit, like Yukon summers can be. Warm. Just warm enough that if you lay down on the grass and closed your eyes, you could nap.

  “Fish burritos?”

  “Yeah, sure,” John said, smiling.

  This wasn’t a bad life, not at all. A little slice of heaven. And maybe on the weekend, he’d go hiking somewhere with Anne. She did like hiking.

  Didn’t she?

  ***

  Anne had rushed off, having seen one of her friends that she gamed with. She was speaking with them, waving a hand around, obviously happy. Probably talking about their campaign. What was it they were doing? Some weird homebrew mix of cyberpunk and magic with multiple Classes? And they were on some stupid, quixotic quest to answer a question.

  John shook his head, dismissing the thought. Better off to stay here, seated in the sun, enjoying the warmth. Which was why he was surprised when the voice spoke to him, breaking his lazy, summer thoughts.

  “Chocolate?”

  “What?” John frowned, staring at the young Japanese woman. One of the tourists probably; she had quite a heavy accent. Standing next to her, carrying a baby, was her husband from the looks of it.

  “Chocolate.” A hand offered him a solid bar of the aforementioned goodness.

  “I… I’m okay.” Still confused, but he took the chocolate on reflex.

  “I find it makes me less angry.” Her hand retracted, and she smiled at John. The family looked happy, though the kid was tugging on the mother’s dress.

  “I’m not angry.”

  A considering look, one that turned down to his left hand. John followed it, only to realise that he was clenching it hard.

  “Baka.”

  It took a force of will to force his hand open, to massage at the aching fingers, the wrist that throbbed because he’d overused it. By the time he was done, she had wandered off, not even waiting for him to thank her, leaving him with a chocolate bar. One that said The Galactic Council.

  Weird name for a chocolate bar.

  It tasted pretty damn good though.

  ***

  Lazy summer evenings. Blink and they disappear, and you’re back in your basement apartment that is perfectly chilled, under warm blankets with an energetic and enthusiastic young woman. Long, languid evenings even as the sun refuses to set, watching old sci-fi TV shows.

  Then, blink again and it’s midnight, and John found himself awake again. Rather than wake up the sleeping figure beside him, he made his way to the kitchen, grabbing a drink. Upstairs, across the house where his housemate, his landlord, stayed. Where was he? At the mines maybe?

  He couldn’t remember. It didn’t really matter. It was not as if John ever had paid that much attention before. Before the… what?

  Never mind.

  Just…

  Before.

  What is, is.

  Jarring, again. His free fist clenched, and his stomach roiled. A part of him wanted to scream, to rage. He breathed, slowly, forcing it down. Stupid dreams, they kept creeping back. Weird that it was the same dreams, same thoughts, these memories that were so obviously untrue.

  How insane would it be to stand on the ISS, calling down fire? Or getting eaten by a monster, just to kill it? What kind of person would do that?

  Not him.

  Breathe.

  In. And out.

  Cup in hand, John took another drink of pure, alpine water from the tap. Best water in the world, bar none. Other places might think differently, but they were wrong. This place, this time, it was right. It was good.

  Right?

  His phone blinked, and a name and number appeared on it as it vibrated. John frowned, staring at the name. Papa. His father… who never called him.

  He blinked again.

  And it was another name, his sister. John frowned, staring at the phone and then left it behind. He put the cup down and walked out the backdoor. He’d have to remember to pick it up before his friend was back.

  Outside, in the backward, where the hill rose and the public trail ran through the area. In the distance, he could hear someone laughing — probably a late-night summer party. The long summers caught people out at times. The constant light. You didn’t realise that the day stretched on without end, the sun never doing much more than spending a short dalliance with the horizon before popping back up again. Just enough to tease darkness before popping back in, its side of the bed not even cooled yet.

  A deep breath. A tilt of the head. A fox, scurrying along the ground. John wanted to call out for it, to see if Anna wanted a treat. But she wasn’t real.

  Or maybe it was him that wasn’t real.

  The him that stood in this backyard, in a world that never was, no matter how much he wanted it to be. He breathed in. Then out.

  Then John spoke. “You might as well come out now.”

  ***

  “Impressive.”

  One moment, he was alone. The next, the figure was beside him, wearing Aiden’s face and looking entirely at ease.

  “You’re not him,” John grated out. The anger, that coiled rope inside him that refused to disappear. It was coming back, but he just had to breathe.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “If I asked who you are, would you answer me?”

  “No.”

  John nodded. “I thought I had a Resistance against this.” A pause. “Whatever this is.”

  “You do. But the thing about System-gained Resistances?” Not-Aiden leaned in, grinning conspiratorially. “It only works if you want it to work. And few people are willing to leave paradise.”

 

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