The system that wouldn’t shut up
PROLOGUE
I can’t breathe.
The air is thick, heavy, pressing against my chest like invisible hands. Panic claws its way up my throat as my eyes fly open.
Where am I?
Everything is… wrong.
A bird hangs frozen mid-flight above me, it’s wings caught between a flap and a fall. Drops of water hover in the air, suspended as if the world itself had forgotten how to move. Even the wind is still. There is no sound. No life. Just silence stretched thin.
I can’t breathe.
It feels like the universe has been paused.
I attempt to sit up, muscles protesting, and the instant I move, everything snaps back into motion. The bird continues it’s flight. The water drops crash softly onto the ground, absorbed by the sand. Air rushes into my lungs and I gulp it greedily, panting like I’ve been underwater for too long.
My bones creak like rusted hinges as I push myself upright.
I’m lying on the ground in what looks like a semi-desert. Sand stretches continuously in every direction, light and smooth, yet oddly untouched. There’s no sun in the sky, yet the world is bright, too bright. The light has no source. It just…exists.
This place feels unreal. Like something pulled out from one of my daydreams.
A few minutes ago, I was on Earth.
Now I’m somewhere else. Somewhere that looks like Earth but clearly isn’t.
I must be dreaming.
I try everything I can think of to wake myself up. Pinching. Smacking. Screaming. Nothing works. The ground remains solid beneath my hands. The air fills my lungs. The world refuses to dissolve.
Maybe I need to do something drastic.
If this is a dream, then dying should wake me up… right?
I find a sharp stick nearby and press it against my chest, directly over my heart. I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for pain-ready to wake up.
Instead, a calm voice echoes through the air.
“You have unlocked the Partner Support System.”
I scream, spinning around.
“Who’s there? Show yourself!”
Silence.
Then words appear in front of me, glowing softly.
SYSTEM MESSAGE:
When you sleep, this world sleeps.
When you wake, everything picks up right where it left off.
I hold my breath, heart racing.
“So… what does this mean? Am I inside some kind of system, like a story I can’t control?”
The voice stays steady, calm. “When you sleep, this world sleeps. When you wake, everything picks up right where it left off.”
I swallow hard.
“Do I still get my period?”
There’s a brief pause.
“That is optional. Review the features list and enable or disable as you see fit.”
I stare at the glowing words, stunned.
Maybe… just maybe… not being on Earth isn’t the worst thing after all.
My name appears in glowing letters in front of me before I can even say it out loud.
ELARA VOSS
I blink.
“Okay… that’s unsettling.”
“Identity confirmed,” the calm voice says again. Clear. Genderless. Too polite.
“Welcome, Elara Voss, to the Continuum.”
“Continuum,” I repeat slowly. “That’s… the name of this place?”
“Yes.”
“Creative,” I mutter. “Did you guys vote on that or-”
“I am the Partner Support System,” the voice interrupts gently. “You may refer to me as PS.”
“Of course you have an acronym,” I sigh.
“Everyone with too much power does.”
There’s a pause. A beat too long.
“...Comment noted,” PS replies.
I snort before I can stop myself. “You can take notes. Great. That’s not terrifying at all.”
A translucent screen slides into existence in front of me, floating like a hologram straight out of a sci-fi movie. Neat. Clean. Organized.
PARTNER SUPPORT SYSTEM (PS)
Status: Active
User: Elara Voss
World Sync: Stable
Threat Level: Unknown
“Unknown?” I repeat sharply. “Unknown to who?”
“To you,” PS answers.
“That’s comforting.”
I cross my arms and look around again.
The semi-desert stretches endlessly, but now that I’m calmer, I notice things I missed earlier.
The sand sparkles faintly, like crushed glass mixed with gold dust.
The air hums, not loudly, just enough to make my skin tingle.
“So,” I say, “am I dead?”
“No.”
“Kidnapped?”
“No.”
“In a coma?”
“No.”
“Hallucinating?”
“Also no.”
I glare at the empty air. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“I do not experience enjoyment,” PS replies.
“However, I am optimized for user engagement.”
“...That’s a yes.”
Another pause.
“Would you like a beginner bonus?” PS asks.
My suspicion flares Instantly. “That depends. Is it going to explode? Curse me? Bind my soul to external servitude?”
“No.”
“...Why did you answer so fast?”
“I have already assessed your fear patterns.”
“Of course you have.”
A new screen opens.
BEGINNER BENEFITS AVAILABLE
Enhanced Vitality
Adaptive Language Comprehension
Environmental Resistance (Minor)
Inventory Access
I stare. Then stare harder.
“You’re telling me I get powers,” I say slowly, “and you led with inventory?”
“It is statistically the most useful for survival.”
“...Fair.”
I tap Enhanced vitality.
Warmth spreads through my body instantly. My muscles loosen. My lungs feel deeper, stronger. The lingering ache in my joints vanishes like it was never there.
“Oh,” I breathe. “Okay. That’s nice.”
“Benefit applied,” PS says. “You may run longer, recover faster, and resist common illnesses.”
“So no random fevers?”
“Correct.”
I smile despite myself. “You’re officially my favorite disembodied voice.”
“Affection acknowledged.”
I choose the rest, because honestly? If I’m stuck in another world, I might as well be stacked.
The final option blinks once.
Inventory Activated
Where does it…”
A small ripple appears beside me and suddenly a translucent square opens in midair. Empty. Waiting.
“That’s cool,” I admit quietly.
“Now,” PS says, “we should proceed to your initial settlement.”
“Settlement,” I repeat. As in… people?”
“Yes.”
“Human people?”
“...Define human.”
My stomach drops.
The sand beneath my feet shifts.
Not naturally.
Something moves under it.
PS’s tone changes for the first time.
“Elara,” it says, sharper now. “Do not run.”
“Why,” I whisper, “would you say do not run like that?”
“Because,” PS replies, it will provoke it.”
