2. Fractured Reality

It'd begun again. The panic, the fearmongering and the religiosity. The end was always nigh but now, well, it's nigher than usual.

All across the world, leaders and representatives of countries and states unfortunate enough to host one of the twelve Doom Tower's that have returned to earth were scrambling for answers, security and making guarantees to their not-so blind citizens that everything would be okay even though not one person in the world understood what the fuck was actually going on.

Actually…that's not right is it?

Sam was beginning to take his phone's anomaly seriously. The strange Android System notification hadn't popped up since it did last week but…other things made him doubt it less.

For the first time since last year the streets of his city were empty, not devoid of people but certainly emptier than usual. There was more than enough space for him to misbehave with his courier bike, drifting, honking and even racing with the imaginary rival biker he often conjured when making hasty deliveries.

But there was no reason to rush now was there? At least, not for him. The logistic company he worked for was making bank off of him and other couriers as just like last year, people all over the city locked themselves indoors, few stores remained functional and those that did had a self-checkout function.

Even the plethora of kiosk that littered every corner stop were shut and all that was left now were the brave couriers making deliveries of everything from mountains of toilet paper to alcohol and most especially weapons. Sam wasn't certain what the rectangular package hoisted on his back was but he's already delivered nineteen katanas over the week so if he had to guess…

Sam made a flashy turn down an estate street, revving his bikes engine a bit to summon the 'watchers' to their windows. He didn't have to wait a second before spotting three people peeking through the sides of their curtains, curious who would dare move about in this time of emergency.

He parked the bike and untied the rectangle from it, checked the address printed on the pack and searched the neighbourhood for the right one. He counted the houses and soon found the right one, a small duplex with a scattered playground set on the yard— Another dad thinking he'll become a samurai then.

He shrugged, walked up to the door and long pressed the doorbell. He couldn't exactly judge; Sam had his own share of fantasises about being an awesome protector, saving his non-existent wife/girlfriend from tragedy with dual blades and a smirk that meant death for all against him.

The only difference between him and the nineteen katana orders was that they more than likely had people to protect, while Sam only had his debt, gaming crew and his beautiful bombay cat, Nyx.

Don't get soppy now.

He rang the doorbell again and this time heard some movement, he readied his clipboard and pen for their signature when a noise pierced his eardrums and sent blood throbbing against the veins in his temple. He stifled a groan as The door creaked open, revealing a tall, pot-bellied man with crumbs of something stuck in his beard. His eyes darted around nervously, lingering on Sam's delivery bag for a moment too long.

"Ah… yes, where do I sign?" The man's voice wavered slightly as he flicked his cracked wristwatch, his fingers trembling as they reached for the pen.

Sam handed it over, his own pulse quickening as he listened to the distant hum of the news blaring from inside the house. Each word from the TV felt like it was pressing down on him: "Do not panic. World leaders converge... States of emergency declared as billions of dollars in infrastructure...thousands displaced in record high…" He caught fragments of the broadcast, and with each one, his unease grew.

"What do you think is going to happen?" Sam asked, his voice low, almost hoping the man wouldn't answer.

The man hesitated, his hand frozen over the clipboard. "Nobody knows," he muttered, his eyes flicking back to meet Sam's. There was fear there, barely concealed behind a forced smile. "Just… be careful out there."

He signed, thanked Sam and shut the door. Letting out a sigh, Sam's brow furrowed as he noticed the throbbing headache recede into nothing as though it were never there to begin with.

They'd been coming and going like that ever since that night outside the supermarket, ever since his phone left him that message. He felt in his bones that the two were related and so as he walked back to his bike he pulled out his phone and checked if there was anything new or strange.

Beyond the seemingly permanent change to his battery symbol there wasn't anything new. No notification or glitch on his oil soaked screen, nothing to prove he wasn't being paranoid about the entire incident.

He mounted his bike, stared at his offensive lock screen and sighed. He was beginning to think…no, no, the battery bar had changed, that was his proof. No other android had such a look to the battery symbol, he was absolutely not hallucinating.

Sam put the phone away, deciding for the thousandth time to change it once he gathered enough money, strapped on his helmet and revved his bike to life. He shouldn't have any more deliveries left today as his quota was filled but he wouldn't say no to more work if it paid, besides, it was only noon— business was booming.

***

There's broken glass somewhere.

Sam didn't know why he thought that or why he felt it was wholly true the moment he reached his studio apartment door and slid the key in. He pushed the door open, threw his backpack on the couch— his single piece of furniture— and began searching for pieces of broken glass.

Nyx, his beautiful Bombay cat, curled up at his feet and purred welcome. He'd usually pick her up but the itch to find that broken glass proved stronger. The same strange instinct sent him into the kitchenette more than common sense did and indeed, Sam found a glass cup shattered near Nyx's empty bowl of feed.

Said cat continued to curl and purr at his feet, meowing guiltily and scratching to be carried. Sam sighed, he should have known better than to keep fragile stuff out in her reach. He crouched, pointed at the glass and flicked her nose to scold her. She recoiled and Sam went to grab a brush and packer; the glass wasn't shattered into terribly small bits but it was best to be careful and thorough, the last thing he wanted was for him or Nyx to get cut.

He shooed her meowing self away from the site of her crime and bent to pack up the evidence when the glass shuddered. Sam halted, stared at the three large pieces and wondered if his eyes had deceived him. The strain of squatting made him decide they had; the brush must've touched the glass and he didn't notice.

Sam packed up the glass, it was the good kind too, the one he'd gotten from his ex-girlfriend when he first moved in. It had a four-leaf clover design on the surface, for luck she said, permanent luck.

So much for permanenc-

Right before his eyes each shattered piece levitated from their place on the now trembling packer, hovering mid-air with an otherworldly grace as one by one they twirled and melding back together, reforming the four-leaf clover glass cup in a matter of heart-stopping seconds.

His knees quaked and his wrist gave out, the packer fell over the open trash bin with the reformed glass and startled, Sam reached out to catch his miraculously formed glassware. Only he didn't need to.

The packer fell in the bin but the glass cup floated, halted from its descent and suspended in mid-air. He gulped, snatched the cup and set it down on the counter before sharing a stunned look with Nyx.

"Meow."