World Upgrade

Chapter one “Again. Of course it happens, again, today.” Frustration tightened Claudias fingers, but no crumple would sound from the crisp white envelope. From its sharper cut corners to the glowing white surface reflecting the sun through the hall window, it oozed a privilege that was not hers. She didn’t need to see the address window with a font bordering on regal to know. One different word, that created a consistent reminder over the last decade of how the other half lived. Dropping the letter back into the stack of others, the folds, smudges and random edge of a boot print marring the rest of her mail stood out in glaring contrast to the letter of Elites. Her old polished wooden square cabinet in the hall took on a dingy cast under the weight of such expensive stationery. Though she was by no means poor, she made a good living coding medical equipment, everything she owned, everything in her life, was highly distinguishable from a simple letter. Flicking mid length black hair over her should, the corner of Claudias mouth twitched up a fox like face into a small smile, green almond shaped eyes squinted slightly in a silent laugh as she mused her work dilemma would solve her mail dilemma. The company she had dedicated the last seven years to, was expanding and heavily encouraging the employees to migrate to the new site with enticing benefits. She had been called to a meeting to discuss her position in the company which left her feeling she may be without a job if she didn’t agree to the relocation and help open the new site. It was a flippant thought. Nothing could seriously convince her from this house. Her parents dream house, or would have been had they lived to enjoy it. A sprawling three story Victorian with a fascinating layout of random three or five steps down to some rooms, having to cross through two different rooms to reach the kitchen with no hallway to separate them. High ceilings and spacious living spaces spun from sweeping bannisters wrapping wide, large circling staircases. Claudia resented how each letter of the Elite dimmed the magic of the house. Staring at her name stylized in a curving font across the address window, Claudia T Vanderhill, 7 Second Street, Willow on the Bay. She stopped on the wrong word. Bay. Claudia's address ended Willow on the Barrow. No amount of requests or complaints had changed anything with the postal service. Every few months or so a letter would slip through. For the last decade Claudia glimpsed the other side, if the penny landed tails. A habit she had developed after a few years of the inconvenience and curiosity. Impatient at returning the letters and having nothing done to rectify the mistake from reoccurring, curiosity had the better of her, and she opened one. Since then if she felt curious about the letter, she would flip a coin. Tails, she opened it. She loved the thrill of unpredictable chaos, leaving it to fate brought. Slipping the worn penny from the hall cabinets top right corner against the wall, below the mirror, Claudia flipped the coin. Reaching the corner of the mirror at its arc, Claudia caught the penny and pressed it to the back of her left hand. Tails. With a practiced tear the thicker fabric was torn across the top. Pulling out a short letter, a white credit card size ticket slid out with it, softly thumping on the carpet. Picking up the ticket Claudia placed it on the cabinet without more than a glance. Unfolding the thick paper, she scanned the letter, frown deepening with every paragraph. Miss Claudia T Vanderhill This correspondence serves as your formal briefing regarding the imminent global transition. You are hereby notified that human civilization is about to interface with a new world simulation: the Aquatic Trials. You have been designated as a citizen of the Elite Sector. This exclusive sanctuary ensures that your immediate environment will be entirely free of criminal elements and unregistered persons. Entrance to the Sector is in agreeance for Annual attendance of a Nature God Festival. Please review the critical parameters of your deployment below: Asset Liquidation: No material possessions from the old world can be transferred. You will enter the simulation with nothing but the clothing on your back. The Grace Period: While the general population will face environmental collapse within three days, the Privilege Sector has been granted a delayed timeline. You will have exactly two weeks, before the initiation of global disasters. Universal Provision: Every validated ticket holder in this sector is entitled to one Epic Starter Chest containing corresponding high-tier loot upon materialisation. Your exact role in the new world order is determined by the celestial insignia emblazoned upon your physical ticket. The Silver-Blue Star Captain: Holders of this mark are granted immediate ownership of a Tier Three Craft, engineered to carry up to seven individuals. Crew Formation Protocol: As an Elder, you may select up to six standard Tier One ticket holders to serve as your crew. To bind them to your upgraded craft, these individuals must stand in your immediate physical vicinity before the countdown reaches zero. The Gold-Blue Star Logos: This mark denotes the highest tier of classification. The parameters, rights, and responsibilities of the Logos designation remain strictly confidential. The countdown is currently active. Ensure your ticket is secured on your person. By Order of the Directorate, The Executive Administration Office Simulation Oversight Division There was a timer at the bottom, same as the words on the paper, mere ink, yet they changed, each second ticket away a count down of 36 minutes. Without the timer the letter would have been thrown and scoffed at by now. But the timer. Technology may be close but hadn’t advanced to this yet. But even so, she couldn’t quite believe it. Slipping the ticket from the cabinet in the same motion as the coin, she scanned it and saw it held her name with a blue gold star in front, like a little bullet point, she was Logos, whatever that meant. Assuming this was one very interesting high society game, the most logical option she could fathom, Claudia slipped the ticket into her back pocket. Just arriving home from work, it was close to five thirty, the timer finished at six o clock. Claudias wore her work friendly casual dark jeans with a decent amount of stretch in them, and modest black long sleeve shirt under an oversized deep green wool jumper, The dress code at her workplace slowly adopting a formal version of casual Friday in its bid to modernize and attract the newer generations. Black trainers added an extra bounce to her step through the house to the kitchen overlooking the back garden. End of work or end of the world, she was hungry. Marbled tiles gleamed to mirror the footsteps crossing them. Rich jewel toned cabinetry lined the walls of the spacious kitchen, rising up to meet original crown molding. The fridge door rattled open, the chilled smell of cold cuts from a left over chicken wafted across Claudias face, going for that first, she tore off the remaining leg, chewing whilst scanning what ingredients were available. Too hungry to waste a few hours cooking, Claudia whipped up some mashed potatoes and fried veg and added more chicken. Ready in just under twenty minutes, she wiped every spot of garlic infused butter from the plate with a crusty roll and butter, washing it down with a glass of wine just minutes before six o clock. Setting the ticket on the long, six-seater kitchen table of stained pine in front of her, empty plate pushed aside. Her hand drifted to the pearl ear rings that graced her ears for the past ten years, worn daily by her mother before that. On the off chance the aquatic trials was not a game, was somehow real, these were the only things she would make sure she took with her. Two minutes ticking down, Claudias trainers squeaked on the tile as she spun herself round to the side of the chair, not moving it an inch in her departure from the table. The woods deep grain catch the soft sunlight, filtering through the sash windows. The golden hour glow deepened the shadows of the room as grapes, blueberries and a strawberry were popped into a mouth leaning over an open fridge door. With a Great Flash of Light the fridge door was left swinging open. The still air held the heavy savory warmth of dinner, the last thing filling the empty room. The clock struck six.