Toc, toc.
—Open the door, please.
The dry sound echoed in the small room. A young man in a wheelchair approached slowly, dragging his hands on the wheels. His expression… a mix of tiredness and annoyance.
—How can I help you? —he asked, opening just enough to see who was there.
At the entrance, an officer with a perfect uniform.
—The neighbors reported bangs and strange noises. May I come in to inspect?
The young man sighed.
—…Go ahead, gladly.
He rolled back and left space.
The officer took a step and frowned immediately.
A penetrating smell hit him: rotting food, humidity, old garbage.
Dirty plates, accumulated bags like small mountains, food remains stuck on the table.
It was… a disaster.
"Does someone live here… like this?"
His eyes shifted to the inhabitant.
Pale skin. Deep dark circles. Empty gaze.
Like a zombie… or a homeless trapped in his own hell.
"It's already night… I should finish my shift…"
"Coming here just to see this pigsty… better finish quickly."
—I suggest you be more careful next time —he said, avoiding looking at him directly. Then he turned around.
The young man followed him with his gaze. That last expression…
Disgust.
—Everyone looks at me the same… —he muttered when the door closed—. It's not strange… this place looks like a pigsty.
But… it's not my fault.
If I could walk… if I could… do something…
He let out a dry laugh.
—Bah… it doesn't matter. I'll lie down… and play something. Yes… a good game.
His hands searched on the shelf until finding a dusty box.
—Let's see… —he whispered—. What will we play today…
He smiled slightly.
—Good thing I bought this… even if it's old.
He looked it up on the internet. Nothing.
Not a single image. Not a single review.
—How strange… well, doesn't matter. I bought it years ago, in a used game store… long before… —he stopped. His gaze dimmed for a moment— …before I ended up like this.
That game no longer existed on the market. A forgotten jewel.
Nowadays, everyone played in virtual reality. Something impossible for someone like him.
Even if he could pay for the technology… his body couldn't handle it.
But… it wasn't just him.
People no longer played the same since the Catastrophe.
Everything started when strange creatures appeared in caves and jungles.
The earth changed… the animals… and the viruses.
A simple dog could mutate into a four-meter wolf, capable of destroying a car.
Nations tried to fight them.
Bullets, chemical weapons… nothing worked.
The creatures adapted too fast.
Then, humans started developing abilities.
But those abilities came with a price: whoever awakened one… was teleported to other worlds.
Most… didn't return.
In just a few years, more than 80% of humanity died.
Until the first Conqueror appeared.
Like in old stories, a man returned stronger than anyone.
And with him… came calm.
But it didn't last.
Those who returned from other worlds had power capable of destroying countries. And many… used it.
Human ambition didn't die. It just changed form.
Isak —his nickname on game forums— let those thoughts fade.
He turned on the console.
—Well… let's leave that for later.
Today… we're going to play.
He raised his hand high, as if greeting an entire stadium.
—But first… let's start the stream! —he said energetically.
For someone like me, this was the only way to earn money somewhat steadily: my video game reaction channel.
I played old titles, rated them, showed my progress, and commented curiosities.
Over time, it became so natural that it was impossible to play if I wasn't connected to the platform.
There, in front of thousands of spectators —even if they never saw my face— I felt… appreciated.
Of course… there were also annoying people.
I remember once almost destroying my computer because I couldn't stand a troll in the chat.
I took a deep breath and smiled at the camera.
—Good evening, my dear viewers. Today I bring you… The End of the Old Era. Let's start!
Even though I pretend a little in front of the camera, I enjoy it.
It's the only moment when I really feel like I play "with someone".
The screen lit up. The game started in what looked like a deep dungeon… although more than a dungeon, it seemed a humid, dark cave.
One week later…
—Sigh… Finally reached the main stage —I let myself fall against the back of the chair.
Thinking it would take me a week to get here…
I looked at the progress counter: 50 %.
—How have I only done half!? Ah… I want to die…
It was fun, yes… but my head hurt.
I had died so many times I thought I would faint.
—Well… better continue after a little break…
I turned to the small fridge next to the bed.
I took out a cold beer and smiled at the first sip.
—Ah… this is life… —I said with pleasure.
But going for the second one…
Something terrible happened.
I opened the fridge… and it was empty.
—…No. It can't be.
This can't be happening.
I fell to my knees.
—My… life… is over.
I stood up angrily, opened the fridge door, and hit it several times with my hand.
I breathed deeply.
—Better… calm down. I just have to order delivery.
I placed the order. One hour later, still nothing.
—Why are they taking so long? —I complained aloud.
Finally, the doorbell rang.
—Finally!
I checked the bag. Everything seemed correct, sealed. But when I tried the first can…
—What… is… this? —I froze—. This is water! Damned water!
My voice echoed in the room.
—Bastards! How dare they?
I opened my mouth, ready to shout at the world.
—Why can't you order a good beer without being robbed?! One star! One!
I sighed.
—No choice… I'll have to go out.
I put on a mask, a hat, and a hoodie.
With that improvised disguise, I went into the street, not knowing that tonight… nothing would be "normal".
—Mmm… I think I'm ready —I looked at my reflection in the store window, adjusting the hood.
—What's missing…? Ah, yes…
I smiled mischievously.
—Almost forgot… silly me.
I opened the small compartment of my wheelchair, and there it was: my old, reliable Mossberg 500 Slugster.
An old but sturdy shotgun.
It had belonged first to my grandfather, then my brother… and now it was mine.
—I never go out without it… —I caressed the barrel with a handkerchief, giving it a clean shine—. Can't wait to try it.
I loaded ten shells into my pocket.
—No… better fifteen.
In the store
—Let's see… new drink or the old usual? —I thought in front of the glass fridge.
The new one was stronger… but the usual Rorozoma never failed me.
—If something old works… don't change it —I smiled—. That's the motto of Rorozoma beer.
I took two boxes, whistling while paying.
—Yes… yes… just have to get home and I can drink in peace. What could go wrong…?
Three streets later
A rumble shook the ground.
I turned my head just in time to see a truck flip over and destroy everything in its path.
Pieces of metal and glass passed millimeters from my face.
I cleaned myself calmly with the same handkerchief I had used on the Mossberg.
—That was close… better leave before something happens like last time.
I checked my phone:
—Three more minutes and I arrive… no problem…
But then…
Auuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh
I stopped.
—…What the hell was that?
In the distance, in the middle of the street, appeared a group of mutated dogs.
Their bodies were a grotesque mix of exposed muscles and bone plates, their eyes glowing like embers.
It wasn't common… though possible. Normal dogs could mutate suddenly.
That's why the government applied control doses to those living in homes, and the street ones were sent to special kennels.
—Tsk… lucky me.
Well… doesn't matter.
I smiled, feeling a thrill run down my spine.
—Good thing I brought my shotgun. Perfect opportunity to try it…
I knew it was legal to eliminate mutated animals, they even gave a reward.
Bile dripped at the corner of my lips.
—Hehe… let's go.
I took the Mossberg with skill, loaded it, and aimed.
—Die, sons of bitches! Hahahahaha!
The first shot tore through the nearest one's head.
Puck! —the dull sound of bone and flesh splitting.
Puck! —another fell, skull split like a ripe fruit.
—Dieee all of you! —I shouted, euphoric.
The smell of gunpowder and blood mixed in the air.
I stomped on the soft flesh of those still moving, crushing what remained of them.
One by one, I tore their ears as trophies, putting them in a bag.
—This… this is a sign of my victory… —I panted, drooling as I spoke—. I can deliver them later for the reward…
When the last one fell, I smiled satisfied.
—Done… time to go home… yes… yes…
I rolled along the sidewalk, whistling, happy.
Until something warm ran down my forehead.
—Huh?
I touched my head…
—…Blood?
There was no time to process it.
The world went black.
I fell from the chair… and everything ended.
White… not darkness.
White.
Only white.
I opened my eyes, and all I saw was an empty space, no floor, no walls… no body.
—What… what the hell…? —I tried to see my hands, but there were no hands.
A distant tick-tock, like a church bell, resonated in my head.
—Am I… in heaven? God… is that you? Is my earthly torture over?