Consolidation

Jack stood up after closing the door behind him. There were no large windows in the hallway of the second floor, so he could move about with relative impunity. Thinking about it further, the stereotypical zombies which 'God' had referenced likely weren't particularly perceptive, so he should be relatively safe if he was quiet. If he could trust 'God' that is.

...Should he trust everything it had said or implied? At this point Jack couldn't see any reason for it to lie. If this thing had the ability to watch his and every other remaining person's reaction to its words, it likely had the ability to do all the other things it credited itself for. To confirm, he attempted to open the 'status' 'God' had described. Thinking heavily on the concept of a status, a similar box to the one that almost killed him appeared, this time lime green:

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Status: Jack Grey

Health: Decent

Mental Status: Dumb

Infection Degree: None

Strength: 11

Stamina: 8

Agility: 9

Intelligence: 13 (practically: 2)

Dexterity: 9

Constitution: 11

Expand?

Stat Points: 0.1

Achievements: Bird-Brain

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It appeared that 10 was the average distribution of points, though it was concerning that his stamina was so low. He did exercise and take care of his health, but working long days in an office likely hadn't helped. Additionally, the achievement had only given him a fraction of a point. He assumed that was one more mockery from the being. Moving past it, the option to expand stat categories drew his eye. Focusing that, an understanding literally entered his mind, the information pulsing into it on it's own volition. The human existence had countless elements, and there was no need to limit himself to the classic RPG distribution categories. If he wanted to, he could add new options to include different concepts or subdivide the current ones to focus on certain aspects, such as the dexterity of his hands. This second option would give a greater benefit and could even have a multiplicative effect with the general stat.

That was weird. Useful. But weird. He wasn't sure if he appreciated what transferable information meant for him. Could the thing that had talked read his mind? Did that matter?

Either way, he scattered the status window with his hand. He would figure everything out further once he had stat points. The main thing was that he had once again verified what the voice had claimed, which reinforced that the rest of what it had said was true.

...Including the effective death of 99% of the population.

Realizing the sheer weight of this, Jack was glad he was still emotionally numb from his panic attack. Because what he had to do next was likely going to hurt more than anything he had ever experienced. In an ephemeral state of mind, he walked back down the stairs towards the kitchen. In silence he lowered the blinds on the kitchen window so that nothing could look in. He found his phone on the counter, where he had set it during his daily preparations. They already felt like they had happened a long time ago, before a floating box had decided his fate. Picking up the phone, he attempted to call his mother.

Busy signal. He tried to call his grandparents. Busy signal. Aunts and Uncles. Busy signal. A few close friends. Busy signal. A sense of guilty relief washed over him. He should have expected this. He had lived through a few disasters himself. The phone lines are the first to go down. Or rather, for the first part of the day, they were busy enough to be inoperable. From all the people like him, who were trying to check on their loved ones. And... If he couldn't call, he couldn't know. But. If there were 20 people important to him in all the world, and 1 out of 100 human beings remained alive, the odds of 1 of his people surviving would be-

In a sudden and reactive feat of will, he forced every thought down. He'd try calling again tonight. When the lines were less busy. That's all there was. He had to get his thoughts together here and now. Because every hour wasted meant an hour less when things were still fresh. If this was a 'game' like the being had implied, he was in the tutorial levels. Electricity and other systems were still up, food was still fresh, people were still alive who wouldn't be tomorrow.

He'd seen zombie films and read a few novels. The most annoying thing people did in them was panic and hide during the start. Screaming and crying, they'd waste their best resource, time, in an emotional whirlwind. They were stupid. That trope was stupid. He didn't want to be stupid, and it certainly wouldn't win him anything. 'God' was watching too. It'd be embarrassing. Motivating himself through negativity, Jack used an old mental health trick and pushed his emotions down as far as he could. Like this, he only had reason and will left. He would treat his body as a puppet to his own logic until this window of opportunity closed. He wouldn't be able to last like this forever, running the risk of a depressive spiral, but he could act now and deal with his own emotional fallout at a safer time.

His mind was still spinning in the sheer chaos of what had occurred. However, he had quite a few leads he could follow to better sort his understanding of what may well be a new world. The first thing he had to do was consolidate his thoughts somewhere, so he could analyze them and plan his angles of attack. He had a few ways he could do this, but the most stable would be to find a journal in which to take notes. His favorite option for that had always been a type of leather-bound calendar notebook. They were geared for people looking to make impressions in things like business meetings, but he had always appreciated how they could allow notes, thoughts, and to-do lists to take on a sense of timing. The covers also felt nice in his hand. That said, he had transitioned to phone-based apps years ago, to lesser success but greater convenience.

Jack walked to the guest/roommate bedroom on the 1st floor with a newfound sense of determination. He didn't have either guests or a roommate, so had converted the room into a sort of storage space for old, unused things. As he went, he did his best to close the blinds on every window, though there were a few that didn't have sufficient covering to his liking. The living room had two large sets with only partial cover, while the front door frame had ornamental glass in spaces to allow visitors to see in. He'd have to find ways to cover each quickly if he wanted to feel safe while operating in his home.

Opening the door, the storage room looked and smelled old. Jack observed the various items piled on or around the bed. These were from past homes, the life he had lived while traveling, and things passed down from family members who had, well, passed on. Looking on all of this, Jack realized he had to organize his inventory later, as a mid-priority task. This would allow him to collect the most important things quickly if he had to move or escape. His home was nice, but it probably wouldn't hold up as his sole base of operations.

Scavenging through a box from when he had worked on a project in a developing nation, he found the old journal (calendar notebook) which he had used to stay organized. This one had been thoroughly filled and worn. However, he was pretty sure he had bought a spare which he never used out of guilt. There always were a few more margins to fill on the old one, and so using the new one had felt like a waste. Digging through the next box, he found it. Black, sleek, the pages crisp, who cared if the calendar dates were nearly a decade old?

Taking the journal back to his study on the second floor, he put down the window blinds, settled at the desk and got out a pen. His first task would be to remember everything he could about the message from 'God'. He thought it had given a lot of clues in it's speech, and if he could use them to better his situation, he would.

Looking at the clock on his desk, he saw that it was 9:02 in the morning. He had been preparing for work around 8AM. It had been the longest hour of his life, but it had only been an hour. He was also now late for work, but Jack would obviously be using his vacation days moving forward. Given the sensitivity of this 'tutorial' period, he figured he should start rationing his hours. He'd give himself 20 minutes to record the monologue and extract at least a few simple rules through which to understand the new world order.

Right before starting, he once again peeked through the blinders of the window. More hunched figures were now wandering the street. Searching.