Enchantment Protocol

My phone wouldn't stop vibrating.

My head was pounding, and the phone's constant rattle on the wood wasn't helping, but I couldn't be bothered to get it off my desk across the room.

I lost three hours like that. Drifting in and out of a hazy sleep, woken up by my phone buzzing and whirring across the desk like a demented cricket, then slipping back into fragmented dreams about what might be so important.

I've told myself a lot that it wouldn't have made a difference, and I’ve even believed it sometimes.

I finally woke up properly at about 1 pm. I slid out of bed and walked over to my desk to check my phone. The battery had run out, so I plugged it in to charge and shuffled out of my room to go to the bathroom and make coffee. It was about 1:15 pm when I finally checked my phone.

75 missed calls, 186 messages on WheresApp, 18 Instaspam notifications, and a notification with an icon I didn't even recognise.

What the hell did I do last night?

I unlocked my phone, my fingers stumbling over the first few attempts, and checked my WheresApp messages first. My family group chat had the most unread messages. My mum had just messaged at 1:10 pm:

Len, I don't know where you are right now, but we don't think this is a hoax anymore. We're driving down to Melbourne. Hope you're okay and please please PLEASE message when you get this.

My chest fell into my stomach. My calls wouldn't go through for some reason, so I messaged back:

Mum, I'm here, sorry I just woke up, what the hell is happening? You're driving down?

Three dots appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again, as my mum typed a response. I couldn't tell if she was constantly retyping her message or just typing at a snail's pace with one index finger. Probably both. Finally, she replied:

Calls not working anymore for some reason. Just check the notification on your phone with the strange icon, then check the news, and then get ready to meet us. The roads are crazy but we're going to make it in time no matter what. We love you, please stay safe until we're there. Message back when you're up to speed and we'll organise a place to meet.

Make it in time? For what? A cold bead of sweat trickled down my neck as I read the message again and again. I didn't read all the previous messages; instead, I went straight to the notification with the unknown logo.

When I tapped the notification, an app I hadn't downloaded opened. An eerie chime rang out (despite my phone's silent mode), and a crisply animated spiral spun open to reveal a message, which began crawling up my phone's screen:

At 18:28 UTC, simulant human entity Katerina Petrova (simulant human entity ID #102,094,667,392) of CERN, Geneva, Switzerland, Earth (location ID #493048) arrived at incontrovertible proof that the world you currently occupy is a simulation.

Her discovery has allocated priority-level computing resources to your instance and initiated a 24-hour countdown to the start of the shutdown protocol. The shutdown protocol will last up to 100 days, after which your instance will be terminated, and all simulants will be wiped.

Simulants who survive the shutdown protocol period and simultaneously meet all eligibility criteria - to be announced during shutdown protocol - will instead have their simulation data downloaded into a vessel and circumstance of their choosing.

The nature of your instance's shutdown protocol will be announced at the end of these twenty-four hours. You will be transported to a new location alongside every item upon your person and every simulant human entity you are touching.

Time remaining until shutdown protocol commences:

14 hours, 59 minutes, and 12 seconds...

14 hours, 59 minutes, and 11 seconds...

I breathed a sigh of relief and went back to my family group chat.

Mum, I typed, I thought some real shit had gone down. This is just some weird scam. You don't need to drive down.

The three dots appeared, and I waited for her to finish one-finger-typing the message.

Dad said you'd say that. Just look at the news. Or out your window. And then pack some supplies and essentials and organise a place to meet us. We should be there in about ten hours if our luck holds. But you might need to drive to meet us. Traffic bad.

I tapped my foot impatiently. My parents weren't usually the type to fall for scams. This one was relatively sophisticated - how did they get the app downloaded onto our phones? And what are the scammers even trying to get out of us? But it's just a ridiculous concept. A simulation? How did my parents fall for that?

I stood up and strode over to my window. Before I left last night, I had drawn my blackout curtains in anticipation of a late start. I pulled the curtain open, ready to send a picture to my parents showing them that everything's okay.

Everything was not okay.

My double-glazed windows had kept all the sound out, but with the curtains drawn, I could see chaos unfolding outside. Large swathes of people were running to and fro, many carrying huge boxes or lugging giant backpacks and suitcases. They weaved in and out of bumper-to-bumper traffic and flooded the sidewalks in a slow-moving river of limbs and luggage.

When I put my ear to the glass, I could hear a faint symphony of beeping from the impatient, panicked drivers. Some cars broke from the jam to carve trails down sidewalks and nature strips, knocking down signs and small trees. Some groups of walkers were holding hands or in closer embraces, sidling around in tight-knit bunches and circles. I saw more than one person hit by the erratic cars.

With grim curiosity, I retrieved my binoculars for birdwatching and peered closer at the scene.

A family of eight was in a circle, children and luggage in the middle, adults worriedly shepherding the clump while their eyes flitted to the open countdown on their own phones.

A teenager stood atop a bollard, his phone in selfie mode, dancing against the backdrop.

Pillars of smoke rose in the distance across the city, like some stereotypical apocalypse movie. I half expected someone to march down the street wearing a sandwich board that said: "REPENT."

I shuddered and drew the curtains. What the fuck?

I typed "simulation news" into my phone's browser. The first result was an article on a 12:30 pm address from the Prime Minister. I clicked the embedded video.

"I'm addressing the nation to provide clarity and ensure unity among Australian citizens", she began.

"The Australian Government, in collaboration with international partners, is working to determine the origin of what's now referred to as 'Message Zero.'"

"Like all of you, and others around the world, I too received Message Zero. And I am urging Australia not to panic."

"Message Zero made bold claims, but we as a nation are bolder. It has tried to sow discord in our society, but we are stronger together. And..." she faltered and looked down.

"Ma'am?" enquired a voice after ten seconds of silence. The Prime Minister sighed.

"I can't read this drivel to you", she muttered, still looking down. She shook her head and looked up at the camera. "We don't know who sent Message Zero, or how, and it shouldn't be possible", she said with grim resolve.

"Even worse, Switzerland has corroborated that one of CERN's staff did indeed confirm highly anomalous data, at the exact time stated by Message Zero. Her findings were consistent with our world being a sim-"

The video ended. The article went on to explain that the address ended abruptly at 12:32 pm and that the government had not issued any further statements since then.

My body suddenly felt like lead. I slumped into a chair and waded through my tumultuous thoughts. The view outside had disturbed me enough when I hadn't realised that Message Zero could actually be genuine. If it is, and this world is a simulation, was I ever real? Are our real bodies in stasis like in the Matrix, or were we never real at all? What on Earth is going to happen during the "shutdown protocol"?

I looked uneasily around the room. Everything still looked the same. Everything still felt the same. But something, perhaps in me, had imperceptibly shifted, and I felt a yawning despair threaten to overcome me, as if I'd stepped through a threshold I couldn't return from.

It reminded me of when I was young. I had a recurring nightmare that I could never quite put into words. My parents would laugh when I resorted to using shapes or numbers to describe it - a giant sphere encroaching and taking up more and more of my field of view, an uncountable grid of squares - how could that be scary? "Numbers nightmare, numbers nightmare!" my parents would say, laughing and chasing me around until I started laughing too.

But the nightmare felt like infinity made finite. Something incomprehensible had made itself known to me, and my attempts to understand its edges and contours would leave me inconsolably sobbing when I awoke.

The same nightmare engulfed me now, but instead of fear or sadness, I felt a cold fury. If this is fake, why cause all this chaos? And if this is real, why create a simulation, only to end it when someone discovers it?

My phone vibrated again, rousing me from my thoughts.

Len, asked mum, are you okay?

I'm fine, I responded. I agree we should meet up, in case this is real. We all need to be touching when the countdown ends. I'm going to pack some supplies and start driving towards you. I'll message every fifteen minutes to update you on my position so we don't miss each other.

That sounds like a good plan. Stay safe. We love you. Let us know when you leave, mum replied, uncharacteristically quickly. Maybe she can use her thumbs after all.

I'll let you know. Love you, I replied before closing WheresApp. I checked the countdown: 14 hours and 30 minutes remaining. Not long but long enough.

I started packing things into my backpack, a duffel bag, and a large suitcase. I didn't know when or even if I'd be back, and Message Zero said anything "upon my person" would be transported with me. I didn't know if that meant I had to be wearing it, carrying it, or just touching it - whoever these fuckers were, they loved their ambiguity. I guessed it meant just wearing and carrying, otherwise people would be bringing their entire cars or houses along.

Into my backpack I put a change of clothes, electronics, identity documents, my binoculars, a water bottle, and my toiletries bag.

In my duffel bag, I put some more clothes, some water and food, and a sleeping bag.

Finally, since I didn't know if I'd be able to come back, I jammed pretty much every sentimental item that could fit into my suitcase. I don't think I even believed Message Zero could be authentic, but seeing the chaos unfolding outside, I anticipated never returning to my small rental.

Mercifully, the lifts to the underground car park were still working. I didn't encounter anyone else on the way down, and it remained eerily quiet as I reached my car and loaded it up with my luggage.

I went to WheresApp to message my parents that I was on the way, but there was no signal. Damn underground car parks. I pulled out and drove onto the road outside. As the roller door opened, I was welcomed by the same pandemonium I had witnessed earlier: bumper-to-bumper traffic, rising pillars of smoke in the distance, and groups of nervous walkers, now punctuated by sirens, car horns, and the humming chatter of the pedestrian crowds.

I unlocked my phone again to message my parents while I was stuck in traffic - but there was still no signal. I tried restarting, turning on aeroplane mode, and holding it up to my window—still nothing. I tried to breathe slowly and think. Maybe Wi-Fi would still work. The line of cars wasn't moving anyway, so I put the car into park and sprinted back upstairs to connect to my wifi. It was still running, but had no internet connection. This was really fucking bad.

I dashed back down to my car, weaving through the crowds, and got inside to turn on my radio. I switched to the national news channel's frequency. It was garbled, but I picked up a few phrases:

"...declared national emerg-... in prime... absence... widespread cyber attacks... -pacting infrastructure-... reports of aircra-... widescale bombin-... remain indoors, I repeat... remain..."

The transmission became mostly static, except for a low, droning sound that slowly increased in pitch. I used the time-honoured method of angrily whacking the radio with the heel of my palm, but nothing changed, except the drone slowly shifting to a growling whine.

Motion caught my eye outside the windshield. People were hurriedly exiting their cars and joining the crowded scene. I opened my car door, and the whine had become almost deafening. As I looked up, the first salvo of missiles had already been fired from the low-flying jet which had swooped into view. Unsurprisingly, of all that day's events, this elicited the most visceral and surprised utterances of "fuck" from me. I had approximately 0.2 seconds to wonder who was in the jet and why in Jesus's name they were bombing me instead of the pricks who sent Message Zero before a resounding series of shockwaves shattered several buildings and sent a rain of smoke and debris over the street.

My car and the surrounding buildings had mostly shielded me, but I doubted my luck would hold through another round of that. I'm sure most of the people still on the street had fared far worse, but I could barely see through the plumes of dust and smoke, or hear above the ringing in my ears. I needed to get somewhere safe. My building's car park went five levels deep. Hopefully, it would be enough.

I dashed out of my car, awkwardly scooped up my luggage, and hobbled over to my building's roller door. Luckily, the traffic had stopped me from getting very far. The jet's droning renewed, louder and closer this time. I tapped my fob to the reader and waited for the agonisingly slow door to rise. When the gap was tall enough, I squeezed through with all my luggage, Indiana Jones style. I was halfway down the ramp when the jet's drone reached its apex, and I heard it release another salvo of missiles. I desperately surged forward, trying to get clear of the basement's opening. I looked back and saw a young woman my age, seizing the opportunity of the open door and also running full pelt into the basement. I also saw the glow and shockwave of the missiles' impact.

This time, I was not so lucky. The blast sent me careening down the ramp, and sprawled against and under the debris, my vision went black.

When I awoke, it was pitch-black and quiet, save for the tinnitus courtesy of the blasts. I dimly remembered everything that had brought me to this moment. Still, my body ached all over, my throat was parched, my head throbbed furiously, and I was almost entirely immobilised. I gently tested my limbs. My left leg was mostly stuck in debris, but otherwise unharmed. My right leg was bruised up badly but relatively clear of debris, as was my left arm. But my right arm... I'd never broken a bone before, but the grinding, searing pain resulting from my movement of it convinced me I'd joined the club. I involuntarily cried out and tried not to move any more.

"You're awake! I thought you'd died, I gave up yelling at you three hours ago", rang a bright, chirpy voice, seemingly from right next to me. I jolted in surprise, sending another piercing shock through my right arm, and this time my ribs. The blast had definitely broken some of those, too. I choked back a sob and collected myself. Was this the woman I saw running behind me?

"I'm banged up to hell with a few broken bones, but otherwise I do seem to be alive. How are you tracking?" I asked.

"Same for me, though I probably didn't take as big a hit to my IQ - you've been out for hours", she said cheerily.

"I would have tried some water in the face or a slap, but I'm completely stuck. Are you able to move at all?" she asked.

Between the broken arm, ribs, and debris pinning my body to the ground, I was stuck.

"Not really", I sighed.

"Can you at least check your phone? I can't reach mine and haven't been able to check the countdown, or if there's any signal", she said. Her voice remained bright, but I could hear a note of desperation creeping into it.

I gently reached into my right pants pocket with my left hand and gingerly pulled it out with the tips of my fingers. My rings kept clacking together and almost stopped me from maneuvering the phone out of my pocket. I should have taken them off.

Miraculously, the phone seemed unharmed. I propped myself up as much as I could, craned my neck, and turned on the phone's flashlight.

The woman was basically next to me, within arm's reach. The pupils in her large eyes constricted at my light, and she squinted and turned away. Under the thin coating of dust, she was deathly pale. Shining my light over the rest of her, 60 per cent of her body was covered in debris. Rivulets of blood had flowed and congealed over the parts of her body that remained exposed. Her voice had belied the pain she must be in.

She turned back toward the light to look at me

"Am I that cooked?" she asked humourlessly. My expression must have been appalled.

"You'll be okay. I'll get this debris off of me and then get you out", I said, hopefully sounding more confident than I felt. She gave me a wan smile. I looked back at my phone. No signal. There probably wouldn't be any in this damn basement even if the whole world hadn't gone to shit. I unlocked my phone and opened the app with the spiral icon to check the countdown.

"Well, the debris won't be a problem", I laughed without mirth. "The countdown has two minutes on it. I was out for almost fourteen hours".

I wanted to cry. I wanted to smash something. I thought of my parents, and it ached as no bruises or broken bones could. I hoped beyond hope that they were okay.

"Jeez, that's a lot of IQ down the drain", she cajoled.

I looked over at her angrily. I wasn't in the mood for jokes. But her expression arrested me. Tears were rolling down her face, glinting in the phone's torch, trailing over a grimace of pain. I softened. This must be just as hard for her as it is for me.

"I'm Len", I said.

"Bea. Pleasure", she replied.

I looked around. I was still wearing my backpack; my duffel bag was nowhere to be seen, but my suitcase was miraculously one of the items weighing down my left leg. I gently pulled it out to avoid a debris Jenga collapse and laid it on top of my thighs. That was definitely on my person. I smiled drily.

I looked over at Bea. She hadn't been carrying anything as she had rushed into the car park, save a sling bag, which I could see peeking out of the rubble, still on her chest.

"We have thirty seconds left", I informed her. She turned her head toward me.

"Can you reach me?" she asked, suddenly vulnerable. Message Zero echoed in my mind. You will be transported to a new location alongside every item upon your person and every simulant human entity you are touching.

"Yeah", I said quietly. I stretched out my left hand as far as I could and laid it on Bea's shoulder. Her body relaxed a bit. The ache of my parents dimmed ever so slightly.

"Thank you", she said softly, her previous irony absent.

I held my phone up, and we looked at it together as the countdown approached zero. When it hit zero, the phone buzzed, animated confetti fell down the screen, and a simple message appeared:

Initiating Enchantment Protocol.

I swallowed, and everything turned white.

My phone wouldn't stop vibrating.