The event lasted 0.620222 seconds.
The brief collision between this spacetime and the Machine God was, in the grand scheme of things, an insignificant occurrence.
Mere moments later, the Machine God was already so far away that the word distance lost meaning. The contact did not even slow it down, let alone shift its course.
In this universe, there were no cosmic changes either. The heavenly bodies continued their journey through the dark expanse uninterrupted.
If there was a God overseeing all existence, they would treat this as a minor curiosity. As one would briefly glance at an airplane trailing through the sky.
It is only at the very point of collision, in this tiny area of space, that the course of history was changed forever.
This point was Earth.
—
[DEFEAT]
Dragan stared at the words on the screen for a few moments before moving the cursor to click CONTINUE. As the game slowly loaded match stats and the post-game chat was getting filled with the typical toxic blame game, he rubbed his eyes and stretched.
That's eight in a row.
He had been playing for hours, queuing game after game thinking that the next one would be the turning point of the evening.
That possibility was never realized.
Initial enthusiasm turned to frustration and then to numbness, but he never stopped queuing.
His relationship with video games was weird like that. Refusing to quit, refusing to settle. Even if it meant banging his head against the wall until it was painted red with his blood, he would continue trying until the wall crumbled.
The problem was, that level of perseverance existed only for video games.
He was just about to queue for the next game when his telephone rang.
Looking at the caller's ID, he sighed.
He knew what was coming.
"Hello," he answered.
"Hello, Dragan," a woman's voice came from the speaker. "How are you?"
It was calm, but it wouldn't be for long.
"I am fine, mother."
"Are you? You didn't call for several days, so I was worried you were sick, or worse."
The sarcasm in her voice was palpable.
"Well, you heard me, and I'm alive, so that's that. I'm hanging up…"
He tried to end things early.
"Don't you hang up on me!" she exploded.
His fingers stopped. Call it strict upbringing, but he really didn't dare defy her.
"All your father and I ask of you is to show some care and respect for us. Is that too much? We didn't raise the fuss when you dropped out of college, we were even ready to help you find a job if you returned home, and still you treat us like we've done something wrong!"
The irritation was beginning to well up.
She was right, he was a failure, but let him be a failure in peace, God damn it.
"Are you still doing that online thing?" she asked.
Another familiar question.
"Yes."
"When are you going to get a real job?"
"That is a real job, mother."
She wasn't satisfied with that answer.
"It pays a pittance and offers no benefits. How can you call that a real job?"
It pays my bills and lets me not be a burden to anyone! That's enough!
Instead of saying all that, he just growled.
"Anything else you want to add?"
If it was noticed, she didn't show it. Her tone was calmer once she spoke again.
"Come home for New Year's."
It was said like an order.
"With Ana. She told me the two of you hadn't seen each other since she arrived in the city. That's almost an entire semester. You're avoiding your sister now?"
"I'm not coming."
No way in hell he would. Go back, and feel everyone stare at the prodigal son? No thanks.
"Why?"
Sarcasm was back.
"Are you busy with something?"
Screw this.
"I am. Right now. Notification just came up from work. Bye…"
This time he gathered enough courage to end the call.
Immediately he turned the sound and vibration off and put the phone down.
His heart was beating like a war drum. There was an urge in him to smash something.
Every few days, the same call, the same conversation, with similar results.
He was no longer in the mood for the game.
I should take a break, clear my head.
Cracking his neck, he stood up from the chair.
He was tall, thanks to the genes from both sides of his family tree. He also had quite a bit of fat around his waist, thanks to his unhealthy diet and inactive lifestyle.
Doing shoulder circles to get some blood flowing through his stiff arms, Dragan approached the closet and pulled out his heavy winter jacket. It wasn't snowing, but the temperature was oscillating around zero so he decided to dress warmly.
Passing through the door, he gave one quick glance back at the room. His small fortress and the last retreat. Then he locked the door, took the stairs and left the building.
—
The walks were a time to be alone with his own thoughts.
In the studio, the PC was always there, always inviting him to dive into the non-existent and forget about the reality of his situation.
These walks through the city streets, in spite of all the dark thoughts that percolated in his mind during them, felt like venting. Like a brief release of a pressure valve before something exploded.
The old snow sloshed under his heavy boots.
The studio was close to the city center and these walks would take him to its edge before he circled back. Sounds impressive, but the whole thing only took around three hours.
He walked through the city's central park.
There was nobody there besides him, which wasn't strange. It was late and, more importantly, it was damn cold. Only people on pressing business would be there at this hour. And junkies. And Dragan.
Then, as he made another step, identical to every other step he made that evening, the reality broke.
It was impossible to describe it in another way.
His vision shattered like glass. Then the fragments melted, leaving behind only the smudged shapes.
The sharp whistling penetrated his eardrums. He covered them with his hands, but it achieved nothing.
The ground beneath his feet lost its solidity, turning into a quagmire that rose to cover his whole body.
Once the envelopment was complete, the pain struck.
It was mind-numbing.
He felt like he was being pulled apart. Skin, muscles, organs, bones, torn away one by one and pulled somewhere unknown.
He wanted to scream. He tried to. Maybe he even succeeded.
The last fragments of awareness that managed to push through his overwhelmed senses warned him of something vast. Powerful. Ancient. Just the slight hint of its existence crushed him with his insignificance. He felt like a speck of dust before a mountain.
Then came the release.
He lost consciousness.
[.]
[...]
[… INITIALIZING]
[UNIVERSAL INTERFACE ONLINE]