Chapter 1: Lost in Thought
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[System Booting Up]
[System Initialized]
[Cataloging User (Henry Miller) Into System Database]
[Cataloging Successful]
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What were those words that appeared to me in my sleep? I've had it stuck in my mind all day.
Even now, I can still recall, with vivid clarity, the writing I saw that night. I doubt that it could've been a dream because if it was, then it wouldn't have looked so real, right?
Slipping my earbuds in, I pushed the shopping cart down the aisle, intently listening to my favorite podcast.
The incandescent lights of the supermarket depressed the surroundings with a bluish tinge. It exacerbated the feeling of dullness within me.
I yearned for a change of pace.
For the longest time, I had wished that I could just be swept away to a fantasy world where I had magical powers and was called the chosen one. Somebody who mattered, somebody who had people who needed him, somebody people would be remembered or even cared for. But that wasn't reality.
I knew that when I would eventually die, no one would be there to notice my departure or even give half a shit. That was reality.
And, yet for some dumb reason, I still held out hope for something else, something more.
Pathetic.
Were those words that appeared to me in my sleep real? Probably not, but I'll choose to believe anyway because if I can't, I'll lose my faith in hope altogether.
Deep down, I knew that these were all just delusions of grandeur conjured up by my sad, pitiful psyche.
"Who am I trying to fool?" I whispered to myself as I grabbed instant ramen off the store shelves and packed them deep into the shopping cart.
"I'm just a nerdy loser—"
My self-deprecatory daze was cut short by the striking words from the daily podcast I regularly listened to.
—"All over the country apparently."—"Huh, most peculiar. And it seems like many other people are reporting having seen the words as well."
I set the instant food away and intently focused on the podcast.
"To all of my listeners at home or where ever you are, I just want to remind you that we try to maintain a basis in reality, but the sheer mountain of evidence supporting these claims is staggering. On a second note, I'll put my journalistic integrity on the line and make the claim that I saw the words in my sleep as well."—"So did I, John, and other reports keep rolling in of others who claim they also did."
My legs began to quiver as my stomach churned. Is this for real?
"So now the only question remaining: what are the implications of this phenomenon?"
I was thoroughly dumbstruck.
Backing away from the shopping cart, an overwhelming paranoia overcame me. My heart pounded out of my chest as I waddled over to lean against a support beam.
I felt physically ill.
In that moment, my sense of reality was utterly decimated. The feeling was one of absolute delirium. Despite all my fantasizing, I was never prepared for a single ounce of it to come true.
What do I do? What the hell do I do?
The host continued, "Many people are claiming that this might be some government experiment or maybe even a sign of aliens—"
Ripping my earbuds out and turning off the device, I tilted my head back to alleviate the onset feeling of sickness.
I closed my eyes and steadied my breathing pattern.
My back slid against the support beam down to a sitting position wherein I sat wasting away what may have very well been many minutes.
It was complete insanity to even acknowledge that there was any validity behind what I saw. It was just my fantasies manifesting in a nerdy dream.
How could this be happening? How could this actually be happening?
"H-Hello?"
A dainty hand tapped me on the shoulder, snapping me back to reality.
"Hi there. Are you ok, sir?"
A beautiful and youthful freckled brunette with hazel green eyes stood before me. She wore black supermarket work attire and a green apron that fell past her waist.
I looked her in the eyes and awkwardly stuttered, "Y-Yeah, I'm just… stressed out."
She couldn't have been much older than twenty, making me almost a decade more decrepit.
With a light chuckle, she replied, "We're all a little stressed out these days. The best thing we can do is keep moving forward."
She gave me a friendly smile and helped pull me back to my feet. I muttered a meek "thank you" and backed a few steps away.
"Don't mention it." she beamed.
I think I'm in love.
She turned back to stock the shelves with canned foods. It was then I realized how short she was. She might've been somewhere around maybe 5 feet tall.
She was my type.
Unfortunately, my fatass self wouldn't stand even a fraction of a chance with her.
"Ah—"
My throat had tightened like a vice that prevented me from speaking.
She turned to look me in the eyes, asking, "Sorry, did you say something?"
"Y-Yeah, I was gonna," I replied.
My eyes fell to the floor.
She stood silently awaiting a follow-up, but her quick and apparent realization caused her eyes to drift to the floor as well.
I knew exactly what she thought I was going to ask. Maybe I was, but I wouldn't ever follow through with it.
Letting out a sigh, I casually asked, "Did you see anything in your sleep last night."
She looked shocked as I had realized how unintentionally creepy what I had just asked was.
"U-Uh, I mean words. Have you seen any words or sentences in your sleep?" I awkwardly sputtered.
Brows furrowed, and with a slight fearful sound in her voice, she asked, "Y-Yeah… H-How did you know?"
"B-Because I saw them too, and so did many more people from what I've heard… Something is going on, or something big is about to happen."
Her eyes told no stories. It was impossible to read what she was thinking or feeling, but I wouldn't have been surprised if she thought I was a total creeper.
I dejectedly looked back to the floor and murmured, "Sorry, I'll be going now."
Awkwardly shambling my way to the supermarket's bathroom, I looked myself in the mirror.
A pitiful fat 30-year-old virgin stared back at me. His short black hair was greasy and unkempt, his bluish-grey eyes were bloodshot red from all the time he spent looking at computer screens in the dark, he had a beard that was dirty and disgusting, he smelled like literal hot garbage, and worst of all, his demeanor was the demeanor of a person living on the verge of breaking down.
"What have I become? Was I always like this?"
The fat man's face curled up with anguish.
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[(World Shatter) Initialized]
[Quest (Class Evaluation) Initialized]
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World… Shatter?
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
Gulags
Gulags As of 12/31/2020, this chapter has been revised and is worth rereading.
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