Ray woke from the nightmare with a splitting headache. It was the exact same dream he had been suffering through for weeks. It always ended the same way, with him running through damp woods with a pistol gripped in his hand, tasting water that was far too sweet, and then burning alive as the world went black. Today of all days, the dream had pushed further than usual. He had dreamed the world came to a violent end, and that instead of dying when the bombs went off, he woke up somewhere else with nothing but a pistol and a single shot left. It took him a long moment to calm down and realise he was still in his apartment. He was still in Sydney, he was still alive, and the morning sun was still cutting through his blinds.

  Ray got up and went through his usual routine. It was a bright, sunny day in the middle of March, and the news reports were promising clear blue skies with no rainfall. He ate his normal breakfast. Bacon, two eggs cooked sunny side up, and a slice of toast for each egg. He dressed in his black suit with a silver tie and headed out the door.

  He was a twenty-eight-year-old senior accountant, but at a firm this small, the title meant absolutely nothing.

  He barely had time to turn on his monitor before Greg, the managing partner, dropped a thick, disorganised manila folder directly onto his keyboard.

  "Morning, Ray," Greg said, not slowing his pace. "We're a bit swamped today. I need you to manually reconcile the petty cash receipts for the local bakery account. I know it's junior work, but be a team player, alright?"

  Ray stared at the coffee-stained folder. It was literal grunt work, the exact same menial data entry he had been doing when he was hired five years ago. He forced a polite nod anyway. "No problem, Greg. I'll get it sorted."

  As Greg disappeared into his corner office, a sigh drifted over the partition. Sarah leaned around the edge of his cubicle, eyeing the folder with pity.

  Sarah was a year younger than him, and she was the one person at the office who consistently put a highlight on his day. She had piercing eyes that always seemed to catch him the exact moment his focus slipped, and Ray had never quite understood how someone could look that perfectly put together this early in the morning.

  "Petty cash for the bakery?" Sarah asked, shaking her head. "Careful, Ray. If you process those fast enough, Greg might let you do them for the next forty years."

  "That’s the dream," Ray replied dryly, tossing the folder onto his desk with a heavy thud. "Or I can just keep my head down until Greg's son finishes his business degree next year and inherits my desk. Then I can finally fulfill my true potential by managing the basement archives."

  Sarah laughed, but her eyes were sympathetic. Because she was so perceptive, she had a distinct way of reading his mood that he didn’t like admitting, and she knew all about the strange job application he had submitted late one night. System Tech Limited. The name sounded like an evil conglomerate out of a bad movie, but they were buying up data companies left and right. A finance position there meant real pay, real opportunities, and a clean path out of this cubicle.

  Ray subconsciously adjusted his silver tie, feeling suddenly hyper-aware of his appearance. He was never quite satisfied with how he looked. Standing at five foot ten with short black hair that never sat the way he wanted it to, he felt incredibly average. He also liked to eat just a little too much and had recently hit the one hundred kilogram mark. It wasn’t the end of the world, but it was enough of a change that he noticed it, and it annoyed him.

  He looked back up at Sarah, who was already clicking her tongue like she could tell exactly where his head was at.

  "You ready?" Sarah asked, lightly punching Ray in the arm.

  "As much as I can be. I know nothing about the company though, so I could be going in completely blind," Ray replied. He tried to smile, but it came out tight. "Do I look ok?"

  Sarah laughed. "Relax, you’ll do fine. From all the stories we’ve shared, isn’t it you who has never failed a job interview and seems to be able to talk his way out of any problem with the clients?"

  It was true. Ray could usually figure out the right thing to say when it mattered most. He wasn’t the smartest person in the room, but he could read people and he could talk. They exchanged easy jibes and conversation throughout the morning while they worked. Ray tried his best to focus on spreadsheets and emails, but every so often, he caught himself staring blankly at the clock.

  Lunchtime approached quickly, and Ray finally left the office. He took the short block and a half city walk over to the System Tech building. The outside of the building looked extremely old, blending in perfectly with plenty of the historical buildings in the heart of Sydney, but Ray could tell the inside had been completely gutted and rebuilt. When he walked in, it felt like he had stepped into an entirely different world. The computers at the reception desk looked like floating holograms. The lighting was far too even, illuminating the room in a way that left absolutely zero shadows. Ray couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something seemed slightly off about the people working there as well. For a busy lunch period, they were far too efficient. There was no slouching, no idle chatter, and no wasted movement. Everyone moved through the lobby like they had a strict schedule running in their heads, and that schedule was vastly more important than whatever was happening around them.

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  He stepped up to the front desk. "Hi, welcome to System Tech, how may I help you today?" the receptionist said, her smile perfectly fixed.

  "Hi, my name’s Ray Atton. I have a meeting with Mr Amata regarding the Director of Finance position," Ray said, trying to sound confident.

  "Certainly sir, I’ll just call him up now. Please have a seat behind you."

  "Thanks," Ray said. He turned around and paused. He was sure there wasn’t a seat there before, but now there was an entire set, with a coffee table in the middle. It looked like it had always been there. Ray sat down anyway, more confused than he wanted to admit, and watched the comings and goings of people in the building. No one looked stressed. No one looked hurried. It was like a normal office, if normal offices didn’t contain a single wasted moment.

  Around five minutes passed before Mr Amata appeared from the elevators. As Ray stood, Mr Amata introduced himself. "Hi Ray, I’m the person you’ve been waiting for, Mr Amata, but please call me Sonny."

  Ray took stock of the man who might soon be his boss. He looked like a straightforward Japanese businessman, black hair, standard height and build. Nothing really stood out about him. It was almost like he was the exact definition of average, right down to his expression.

  "Hi Sonny, it’s good to meet you," Ray said.

  "Come this way. I’ll be honest with you. When I saw your resume, I thought you would be perfect for the position, so this is more of a tour than anything else," Sonny said.

  Ray was dumbfounded. He had thought he would be a token interview, simply there to fill a number or make another candidate look better. He hadn’t expected to be told he probably already had the position. He followed Sonny through the building as Sonny showed him different levels and different departments. The technology got stranger the higher they went. Ray saw prototype items, including virtual reality setups that looked more like full body pods than headsets. He also saw a room that looked like a lab testing area, with equipment that reminded him of weapons. Not military rifles, more like something designed by an engineer who never had to justify the design to anyone. Ray didn’t touch anything, but he couldn’t stop looking.

  Halfway through, Sonny stopped at a small glass meeting room and waved Ray inside. It wasn’t the kind of room you used for a tour. It was too plain, too clean, and it had one chair on each side of a small table. There was no laptop on the table, no papers, nothing. Sonny sat opposite him and folded his hands like this was a formality he didn’t really care about.

  "I’ll ask a few quick questions," Sonny said.

  "Sure," Ray replied, still trying to keep his nerves in check.

  Sonny looked at him, eyes calm. "Do you consider yourself adaptable?"

  Ray blinked. "Yes. I mean, I’ve moved up quickly where I am. I’ve learnt whatever I needed to."

  "Do you think you make good decisions under pressure?"

  Ray frowned slightly. "I’d like to think so. I’ve handled difficult clients, deadlines, issues that came up unexpectedly."

  Sonny nodded once, like the answers were being ticked off somewhere. "Do you believe there are situations where consent is implied, even without full information?"

  Ray paused. That was a strange question. "No," he said slowly. "I believe consent is consent. You should know what you’re agreeing to."

  Sonny held Ray’s gaze for a second longer than normal. Then he simply nodded again. "Good," he said, like he had been waiting for that answer in particular.

  Ray tried not to let it show, but his stomach felt tight. The questions weren’t about finance. They weren’t even about leadership. They were about something else entirely, and Ray didn’t like not knowing what.

  Sonny stood. "Let’s keep moving," he said, and the moment was over.

  They continued the tour. Ray kept noticing small things that didn’t add up. People didn’t joke. People didn’t complain. People didn’t even look annoyed when they were interrupted. It wasn’t that they were happy. It was that they were consistent. Ray started to feel like the building itself was setting the pace, and everyone inside it was matching it without thinking.

  Eventually Sonny checked his phone and swore under his breath. "Oh shit, sorry, I have to cut this meeting short," he said. "You are definitely hired though. Could we please get a copy of your driver’s licence on the way out. We’ll send full details of your contract to your email within the hour."

  Before Ray could respond, Sonny was already moving away with urgency that didn’t match the rest of the building. Ray watched him disappear into the elevators. Then Ray did what he was told and returned to reception. The receptionist smiled and took his licence without hesitation, as if this part was the real meeting.

  She placed it on a scanner. A thin line of light moved across the card, slower than he expected. It paused for a fraction too long at his photo, then continued. The receptionist’s smile didn’t change.

  "All done," she said. "Thank you, Mr Atton."

  Ray took it back. "That was quick," he said, trying to sound casual.

  "It’s efficient," she replied, like that explained everything.

  Ray walked out of the building and the whiplash hit him instantly. He had walked from perfect order into absolute chaos.

  The street was entirely wrong. Fires burned in places they shouldn’t. Car accidents were scattered along the road. Some windows were already smashed. People were moving quickly, not like commuters, like a crowd fleeing something. A man ran past with blood on his shirt and didn’t even look at Ray. Someone was shouting into a phone that clearly wasn’t working. Ray tried to call out and ask what was happening, but no one responded and most people didn’t even look like they could hear him.

  Ray pulled out his phone. No signal. He tried again. Still nothing. He went to message Sarah. The message didn’t send. He tried calling the office. It didn’t even ring. He stood there staring at the screen and felt his earlier nightmare sit heavy in the back of his head, like it had been waiting.

  He forced himself to move. He decided it was best to stay calm and get back to the office and his car. If the roads were blocked, he could still work out a plan from there. He took a step.

  Then the sirens came.

  They weren’t normal emergency sirens. They were old war sirens like he had only ever heard in movies, games, or documentaries. The sound crawled through the city and made the hairs on his arms stand up. People who had been running suddenly ran harder. Some dropped to the ground with their hands over their heads. Others didn’t even hesitate and just kept fleeing without direction.

  Ray looked up and saw a bright flash in the distance. It was too bright. It wasn’t fireworks. It wasn’t a building fire. It was a clean white light that swallowed the skyline for a moment.

  A huge fiery cloud rose a second later.

  Ray’s mouth went dry. His mind refused to lock onto the reality of it, even as the shape formed, even as the city reacted like it already understood what it meant. The nightmare wasn’t a nightmare anymore.

  Armageddon was here.

  Ray had nowhere to go. There was no shelter close enough and no time to find one. He sat down on a nearby bench and watched, not because he wanted to, but because his legs wouldn’t move properly. He knew it was the end. Ray saw a second mushroom cloud rise before the blast from the first reached him.

  The shockwave hit like a solid wall.

  The air punched the breath from his lungs. The world became sound and force and heat. Ray was thrown back towards the System Tech building. His body slammed into something hard. The last thing he saw before everything went dark was the System Tech sign above the entrance, looming over him as he hit it full force to the face.