The faint tremor fades as quickly as it came, leaving only the sound of my ragged breathing. My fear heightened, but I remind myself: this isn't the apocalypse. Not yet. I have three months to prepare, to understand my powers, and to figure out what I'm supposed to do.
The panel reappears, glowing faintly in the dim room:
---
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION:
Mission Updated
Objective: Prepare for the coming apocalypse.
Time Remaining: 89 Days, 23 Hours, 45 Minutes
---
I release a shaky breath. "Three months," I mutter. "That's it."
The voice returns, calm and unyielding. "Indeed. What you do with that time will determine the fate of your world. Use it wisely."
My gaze drifts back to the window. The city is bustling but feels unnerving. The apocalypse might not be here yet, but something about this quiet feels wrong, like the world is already holding its breath.
"Alright," I say, steeling myself. "Let's see what I'm working with."
---
Pocket Space:
I focus on the strange void in the back of my mind, and it opens effortlessly. The sensation is odd but intuitive, like reaching into an invisible bag. The utility knife in my hand flickers, then vanishes as I mentally store it.
I try again, pulling it back out. The motion feels smoother the second time, as if the space itself is learning with me.
---
Telekinesis:
I turn to the broken chair in the corner, its legs uneven and splintered. Stretching out my hand, I focus on lifting it. A faint hum vibrates in my skull as the chair trembles, then rises shakily into the air.
The strain is immediate, sweat beading on my forehead, but I hold it steady. It's like flexing a muscle I've never used before—awkward and exhausting, but exhilarating all the same.
---
Gravity Control:
Finally, I take a deep breath and shift my focus inward. The weight of the world presses down on me, but I push back, creating a small bubble of altered gravity around me. My body feels lighter, almost floating, and I take an experimental step.
The effort is draining, and the effect collapses after only a few seconds, but it's enough to ignite a spark of confidence.
---
My system speaks again, breaking my concentration. "You have a long way to go, but this is a start. Your powers will grow with time and effort."
"Yeah," I mutter, wiping the sweat from my brow. "I just hope three months is enough."
The system panel flickers, and a new notification appears:
---
NEW MISSION:
Objective: Develop your abilities, gather resources, and establish a safe zone to prepare for the apocalypse.
---
I glance at the system screen, then out the window at the bustling streets below. The voice is right—this is just the beginning.
With three months left, there's no room for hesitation.
-----
The sunlight stings as I step out onto the cracked pavement, the world alive with a strange sense of familiarity. People move around me, their faces alight with the mundanity of everyday life. Cars honk in the distance, a dog barks at a passing cyclist, and somewhere a street vendor yells out the price of roasted corn 🌽.
Three months, I remind myself, gripping the strap of my bag. Three months until all of this is gone.
The system panel flickers into view, translucent and subtle. I still haven't gotten used to it, and the words floating in my peripheral vision make it hard to focus on anything else.
---
Now that I think about it, "system do you have a name?"
"No user, I do not have one...not yet
And you don't have to talk out loud if you want to communicate with me...."
*Wow, that nice....can you hear me?*
"Yes user, I can hear you"
*So how about Ava....since you sound feminine and also that is the name that's been bouncing in my head since the moment I saw the interface
---
SYSTEM RENAMED: AVA
---
"Do you like it?" I say quietly, feeling a bit foolish for addressing it like a person.
"its a nice name, User," Ava responds, her voice soft, almost human.
The sensation is surreal. But before I can dwell on it, my phone buzzes in my pocket, yanking me back to reality.
It's a message from Eunice, my younger sister.
Eunice: Hey, don't forget, we're meeting at Mom's after class today. She made your favorite stew, so don't be late!
A pang of guilt hits me as I read the message. My family. How do I even begin to tell them what's coming? How do I tell them that everything they know is about to collapse in three months?
I shove the phone back into my pocket and keep walking, the weight of my secret pressing down harder than ever.
---
The university campus is as bustling as ever, a sea of faces both familiar and not. I move through the crowd, keeping my head low, but it's impossible not to notice the little things—the laughter of a group of friends, the frustrated muttering of a student running late.
"User," Ava's voice chimes in my mind. "Would you like to activate a search function? I can assist in locating key resources or individuals within this environment."
"Not now, Ava," I whisper.
"Understood. Should you require guidance, simply ask," she replies.
I can't afford to draw attention to myself, not yet. For now, I need to pretend that everything is normal, even as I feel anything but.
---
Family Matters
By the time I reach my mom's house, the sun is starting to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The smell of her cooking hits me before I even open the door, a mix of spices and something warm that tugs at memories I've tried to bury.
"Israel" Eunice grins as she opens the door, pulling me into a quick hug. "You're late, as always."
"Traffic," I lie, stepping inside.
Mom's already at the table, her face lighting up when she sees me. "There you are! I was starting to think you weren't coming."
I give her a small smile. "Wouldn't miss it."
For a while, it feels like everything is fine. We talk about trivial things—Eunice's classes, Mom's garden, the neighbor's dog that keeps getting into her flower beds. I try to focus, to soak in every moment, but the weight of what I know keeps pulling me under.
"Israel," Mom says, her voice cutting through my thoughts. "Are you okay? You've been quiet."
I glance up, realizing too late that they've both been watching me.
"I'm fine," I say quickly, forcing a smile. "Just... tired."
"Liar," Eunice says, smirking. "You've been off since you walked in. What's going on?"
I open my mouth to deny it again, but the words catch in my throat. How do I tell them? How do I make them understand?
Ava's voice interrupts my spiraling thoughts.
"Would you like to establish a secure location for your family? I can assist in creating a strategic plan to ensure their safety."
The suggestion jolts me, and I nod subtly, speaking to her in my mind. "Not now. But soon."
For now, I'll let them believe that everything is fine. But as I sit there, watching them laugh and talk, I make a silent promise: whatever happens, I'll protect them.
No matter the cost.