Chapter One
People used to sit around and amuse themselves by predicting how the world would end.
Nuclear war. Biblical apocalypse. Super volcano. Solar flare. Global pandemic. Rogue artificial intelligence. Climate collapse. An earthquake so devastating the only name they could come up with for it was The Big One.
Turns out, whoever had meteor on their Doomsday Bingo Card was right. Guess what they win for being right? Nothing. Just front-row tickets to the end of the world, same as the rest of us. They don’t even need reservations.
“Who wants another round?” the bartender calls out, and the response is nearly deafening.
My voice is just one among many asking for a refill, so I slide my glass across the bar and wait for him to get to me.
It’s been three years since the meteor was spotted. Two years since the world governments admitted they couldn’t slow it down, much less stop it. It’s bigger than the one that wiped out the dinosaurs, and with all our so-called advanced technology, it wasn’t spotted until it slipped past the sun’s glare. The giant fireball that keeps us alive also hid what will destroy us. Some people consider that poetic.
There were riots in the beginning. Mass chaos. Several world governments fell, and anarchy reigned. Still reigns, as far as any of us know. The media has stopped covering things now. The only thing on television is a countdown clock.
“Two hours,” I mutter, glancing at the countdown, then forcing a half-hearted smile when the bartender makes it to me. “Make mine a double… or a triple. Just fill my damn glass to the top.”
“Sure thing, miss,” the bartender sighs, pouring whiskey into my glass until it’s almost to the brim. “I said I’d stay behind this bar as long as I could, because I don’t have anyone to go home to, but time is almost up, so that may be the last drink you ever get. Enjoy it.”
“I’ll try,” I say, picking up my glass.
Our government didn’t fall. No, they just got stricter. Curfews, arrests, and when things got really bad, public executions. With less than a year until an extinction level event, there is no reason to throw criminals into prison. Every sentence is a death sentence with so little time left.
The executions tempered the chaos. Turns out, most people aren’t in a hurry to die. We want to wring the last second out of our existence, even if we spend it in a dingy bar, downing drinks as we wait for the world to get blown apart. Even the bartender. Glad he’s one of the few who decided to keep working.
The man next to me gets his drink and walks away from the bar. Another man immediately takes his place. He looks like he hasn’t taken a shower in a few days. Smells like it too. Stale cigarette smoke clings to him, his scraggly beard hasn’t felt a razor in weeks, and he didn’t even care enough to comb his greasy black hair before stumbling into the bar.
I probably don’t look much better. Just… cleaner. I took a shower and combed my hair, but said fuck it to the Maybelline and the cherry-red lipstick my friends used to say is my trademark. No need to get done up for the end of the world.
“Hey. Shitty day, huh?” the man next to me asks, cocking his head in my direction.
“The worst,” I reply, some humor in my voice, despite what is going on around us.
“Well, less than two hours left,” he mumbles. “What do you say? Finish that drink and come back to my place? I got an apartment on the top floor. We’ll have good seats for the apocalypse.”
I look him over, my nose wrinkling. “Um, no, thanks. I’ve decided to die a virgin. Feels like a solid life choice at this point.”
“A virgin? Really? Come on, little girl,” he says, reaching over and grabbing my arm. “I’ll take good care of you. Show you what you’ve been missing before we get blown up.”
“I said no, thanks!” I say a little louder, as I yank my arm out of his grasp. “I’m not a little girl. Seriously, leave me alone.”
I lean back from him, my hand immediately going into my purse where I keep my father’s revolver. It’s loaded, and I won’t hesitate to use it if I have to. My fingers find the cold steel, and I curl one around the trigger.
His move. I know what my next one will be.
“Fine. Whatever. Bitch,” he mutters, walking away from the bar.
He’s not the first guy who thought I should take my panties off for him because the world is ending. I’ve only had to pull my gun on one of them, and he changed his tune as soon as he was staring down the barrel of a loaded 38. Guess I’m not worth dying for.
I was sixteen when the first story about the meteor rattled everyone. On the cusp of truly beginning my life. But hey, at least the news story broke about the meteor before I had to bother with college. Some people still went, if you can believe that. Right now, there are students sitting in the classrooms, trying to absorb knowledge they’ll never even be tested on before the world ends. Just like some people kept going to work, if they had a job they could go to. I suppose it’s easier to stay numb to reality if you just ignore it.
I sip my whiskey, feeling the burn, and then I pick up my disposable vape. I take a hit and barely even taste the nicotine before the screen lights up. My batteries are dead.
“Fuck,” I mutter, tapping it against the bar a few times and trying again. “Ugh.”
Now a guy who smells like stale cigarette smoke wouldn’t be the worst companion for the end of the world. But there are plenty of guys here like that. I see a guy lighting a cigarette several seats away and lean down the bar toward him.
“Hey!” I yell, my voice one octave higher than the noise. “Can I have one of those?” I glance at the countdown. “Or… a couple? Please?”
He nods, taps a few cigarettes out of the pack, and tosses it down the counter. “Help yourself.”
I started vaping not long after the meteor appeared. My mom found my stash in my room a few months later and gave me a really long lecture about how it would kill me. I argued that it didn’t matter if the world was going to end. My mom still had hope, but it was just another lecture among many that are as meaningless now as the time I have left.
Half the people in this bar are smoking, so I light one up, and exhale into the haze floating above all of us. I immediately grimace and down some of my drink. I’ve never liked how harsh cigarettes are. I prefer my nicotine coated with French vanilla cream. But it’s the end of the world, and beggars can’t be choosers.
The countdown keeps going while I drink and smoke. Some people are going outside, so they can watch themselves die. I’m fine right here. I don’t need to see it. I’ve already seen enough to haunt me much longer than the little time I have left.
“Last call, if you’re empty,” the bartender calls out. “Either let me pour it or help yourself. I don’t give a fuck at this point.”
I’m not empty, and if I down what’s left in my glass, I’d probably vomit. Several people wait for the bartender. Others lean across the bar and grab bottles for themselves. I get shoved around some as people reach past me, but it isn’t long until the shelves behind the bar are completely empty.
“Guess this really is my last drink,” I sigh, downing some more whiskey and lighting another cigarette.
I lost my parents during the first wave of rioting and looting. They were shopping for groceries when the store was overrun. Since then, I’ve lost several friends. Most of my family. It’s been a damn nightmare just surviving long enough to die here.
But this seems like the best place to die, considering everything. The bar my grandfather used to own before he died and my parents sold it. I don’t know the new owner, but my grandfather’s picture is still on the wall, right across from me, now slightly tilted from the rush of last call. I used to love this place when I was a kid.
If I close my eyes, I can still picture him behind the bar, telling stories about the good old days when life was affordable and doctors still told their patients cigarettes were healthy.
“Miss you, Grandpa,” I sigh, raising my glass to him. “If there’s anything after this, I guess I’ll see you again soon. Tell Mom and Dad I’m on my way. Not long now.”
I watch the countdown as it hits fifty-nine minutes. Less than an hour left. More people leave the bar, but I stay where I am. It’s quieter now. So quiet you can hear the beep every time another minute vanishes from the countdown clock.
There’s a flicker on the television screen. Just a tiny blip that looks like static or interference of some kind. Then another. And another, until the screen fills with static.
“Seriously, we don’t even get to see the countdown clock?” a woman groans.
“I’ve got it!” a man yells. “I synched my watch to it several hours ago.”
It shouldn’t surprise anyone that we’ve lost the signal. Everything has been a mess since the news broke about the meteor. Rolling blackouts. Water shortages. The internet has been gone so long I don’t even look at my phone anymore, unless I need to check the time. The only reason this bar has power right now is because it has a generator.
Time ticks away. How many minutes, I’m not sure. It barely matters. I just zone out, drink, smoke, and listen to the chatter around me.
“Thirty minutes!” the man calls out.
Suddenly, the static on the television starts crackling, a voice booming out of it, silencing the room.
“Citizens of Planet Earth. I am Thek’lak, General First Class of the Intergalactic Alliance,” the voice says, and the static dissipates until there’s a face on the screen.
“What the fuck?” a man asks.
“Yeah, seriously!” a woman says, rushing to the counter. “Is that an alien? Is he going to stop the meteor?”
The face on the screen isn’t human. Purple skin, smooth and shiny, almost like it’s permanently wet. A beastly head flares outward, a crown of hard ridges that adorn a wide forehead. Where a mouth should be, there are clusters of slender, twitching tentacles curling back on themselves, each lined with tiny, glistening suckers that flex as it speaks. Its eyes are much larger than mine, glossy and black like polished stone.
“No fucking way,” I say, nearly dropping my glass.
“Your planet currently faces an extinction level event,” the alien continues, suckers flexing with each word. “The Intergalactic Alliance cannot prevent it, but some of you will be relocated to other habitable planets. Please stand by for selection.”
The screen crackles again, and the face vanishes. The countdown clock returns, and we’re now less than twenty minutes from impact.
“We’re going to be spared!” a woman shrieks. “Praise Jesus!”
“Lady, I don’t think Jesus is an alien squid,” a man chuckles. “I’m not drunk enough for an alien invasion. Somebody pass me another bottle.”
“They’re not invading, they’re going to save us!” another woman cries out.
I stare at the screen in silence. There were conspiracy theories about this. One of my friends was convinced we weren’t alone in the universe and aliens would save us before we got wiped out.
“Guess Charlie was right,” I mutter, downing a little more whiskey.
Except the alien didn’t say we would all be relocated to other inhabitable planets. The alien specifically said some. That doesn’t change much for me. Most of us are still going to die, and unless the alien can relocate billions of people in less than twenty minutes, my odds of being chosen aren’t very good.
Either way, I’m too drunk to care. Or maybe I’m just too exhausted to process it. I’ve already accepted my death. I came to terms with it faster than most of my friends. They still have families to worry about. I don’t have anyone left.
If the alien is going to save some of us, they should go for the children first. They have a brighter future than everyone else. Considering what we were doing to each other before the meteor was spotted, I’m not sure there’s much humanity to save. We’re all just flesh-covered scumbags, in the grand scheme of things. I knew that even before my parents were trampled to death trying to get a loaf of bread.
“You’re turning blue!” a man yells, and I turn around on my stool, the room spinning as the whiskey in my veins protests the movement.
Sure enough, in the middle of the bar, there’s a woman glowing blue. I think it’s the one who praised Jesus, but I’m not certain. She closes her eyes like she’s basking in the sun, then raises both hands. The glow gets brighter, and she vanishes, except not everything goes. Her clothing, jewelry, the purse on her shoulder, and the bottle in her hand all hit the floor. The bottle shatters and several people jump back.
“She’s gone,” a man says, disbelief in his voice.
“She must have been chosen!” a woman cries, then she lights up as well. “I’ve been chosen too!”
The odds just changed. Two people in this bar alone? Already chosen? There are fewer than twenty of us left, and another man is now turning blue. He screams with joy and starts removing his clothes, but he doesn’t even get his shirt off before he vanishes and everything he’s wearing hits the floor. A Prince Albert piercing rolls toward me and I laugh under my breath.
Then the blue light finds me.
“Wait, oh, wait,” I say, shaking my head.
“You’ve been chosen too!” a man says, then the rest of the people in the bar cheer. “I’m next! I know I’m next!”
That’s the last thing I hear before a buzzing in my head drowns everything out. The blue light feels strangely calming, like everything inside me is trying to panic, but it won’t let me.
Until I go from sitting on the barstool to spinning above the bar, going higher and higher until I can see everything for miles away. I’m completely naked, but it happened so fast I didn’t even feel my clothes leave my body.
The city looks tiny beneath me now. So small it’s almost unsettling.
A light flashes above me. I look up and see something so big it’s blocking the sun. It must be the alien ship. I can still see the streak the meteor is leaving across the sky. Hundreds of blue beams lance down from the ship, and as I look around, I see other people trapped in them, rising just like I am.
All naked. All likely wondering if this is a good thing or bad thing, like I am. I hope we’re being saved, not abducted. I sure hope most of the conspiracy theories about aliens aren’t true, because the last thing I want is to be experimented on.
As we get closer, the buzzing gets louder. It makes my vision blur. I can barely breathe, much less think.
Then everything goes dark.
[divider]Chapter Two
Avery
When I regain consciousness, my head is throbbing, and there’s a bright white light above me.
I can tell I’m lying down. On something cold and hard that feels like metal. Metal against bare skin, because I’m completely naked. I blink a few times, then try to put a hand in front of my face, but I can’t. There’s something attached to my wrists that bites into my skin when I try to move my arms.
“Ugh, what…” I mutter, my mouth dry, but I can still taste the alcohol and cigarettes.
I keep blinking until my vision focuses.
The light overhead doesn’t dim. It’s harsh like the one my dentist uses, except this one is much brighter, and closing my eyes does little to dull the harshness.
“Why can’t I move?” I murmur, looking up to see metal bands on my wrists.
They’re tight, and I don’t see a seam on them. It’s like they’re part of the table, and they’ve been fused around my wrists.
My feet are in stirrups, not much different from the ones at my gynecologist’s office. Except my gynecologist doesn’t use metal clamps to make sure my feet stay elevated in an awkward position that leaves me on full display.
I’m restrained, naked, and spread-eagled. The exposure makes me shiver, and it’s not just from the cold.
“What the hell?” I mumble, swallowing the dryness in my throat until I produce some saliva. “This… doesn’t feel like a rescue.”
Panic begins to set in. My heart kicks into overdrive, thundering in my chest like it’s trying to escape without me. There’s no blue light to calm me here. Just one that seems brighter than the sun. I can’t stare into it, so I have to look away. I’m already seeing spots, just from focusing my vision.
I pull at the restraints again, tugging harder this time. They don’t budge. There’s no give. Not even a rattle. All I manage to do is tear some of the skin near my right wrist and some blood oozes out of the wound. Blood that immediately gets absorbed into the metal, like it’s slurping it up.
“Oh, no, no, this isn’t good,” I mutter, shaking my head. “Hello? Hello!”
A soft, electronic chime sounds, followed by a smooth hiss. A seamless door appears on the wall to my right, and it slides open. A large, hulking figure stands on the other side of the door. As he walks into the room, I notice he has red skin and black horns protruding from his skull that are smooth, shimmery, and metallic.
He looks like a demon. Except he’s smiling and wearing a white, padded uniform with symbols I don’t recognize in various places. Possibly words, but I can’t read them. He says something that comes out like clicking and clacking as the door closes.
I tense up, unsure what to do. Should I greet him? Beg for mercy? I’ve never been the type to beg, but if there was ever a time, this seems like it. I was ready to die. I didn’t ask to be saved, and I certainly didn’t ask to be touched by some strange alien demon. I was perfectly fine dying a virgin.
The alien or demon taps the wall a few times, and a screen appears that doesn’t look much different from the tablet I used every day before the internet went offline. There are buttons that look like apps in various colors, and the symbols on the screen look similar to the ones on his uniform.
“Okay, the Intergalactic Translator we implanted in you should be working now. Can you understand me?” he rumbles, some clicking and clacking still present, even though I can understand him.
“Yes, I can understand you,” I reply, a little concerned about something being implanted in me, but more concerned about the demon. “But who are you? What is going on here? Why am I on this table?”
“My name is Dr. Grix’al’thormormingfjorting… You know what, just call me Dr. Grix. My language is difficult for flesh-tongued beings, even with the Intergalactic Translator,” he says. “I’ll be examining you today. That is the first step toward finding a suitable home for you, like we do with all refugees.”
An examination. I can handle that. I think. I’m not dead. I was spared by an alien. I just hope he’s not planning to dissect me.
“Okay. Dr. Grix,” I say, swallowing hard. “I’m Avery.”
“Nice to meet you, Avery. Now, let’s see… what planet are you from…” he mutters, tapping the screen a few times. “Ah, yes, your planet was called Earth, but it’s gone now. Big boom. Lots of screaming. Bet you’re glad you missed that, huh?”
“I’m not sure yet,” I say apprehensively.
“Let me load your chart and then we’ll get started,” he says.
Dr. Grix taps the screen again, something hisses, and then he removes the screen from the wall. He places it in the air, and it hovers there, staying to his immediate right as he walks closer to the table. I can’t see what is on the screen from my angle, but it’s translucent, so I can see him.
He looks even scarier when he gets close. His teeth are as black as his horns, and look like they’re made of the same shimmery, metallic alloy. He rubs his tongue across them while he studies my chart and it scrapes, like metal against metal.
“Just reviewing a few things,” he murmurs, swiping a hand across the screen in front of his face, red eyes studying whatever it says. “You were quite intoxicated when we put you in cryostasis. We had to let that pass through your system after you were thawed, but you should be fine now. How do you feel?”
“Concerned,” I admit. “I just woke up on a table. My arms and legs are restrained. This is how horror movies start where I’m from.”
“Horror movies?” he questions, tapping the screen a few times. “Ah! Yes, we have those on my planet. Intergalactic Translator still needs some work with the languages from your planet. But don’t worry, Avery. This isn’t a horror movie.” He smiles, showing his teeth. “This is just an examination.”
“What kind of examination is this going to be?” I ask, feeling even more exposed as he walks around the table.
“A thorough one,” he replies. “Let me just check the guidelines from your planet so I can make sure this is as comfortable as possible for you. One moment… Oh, yes, consent. It is very important where you’re from. Avery, do you consent to this examination?”
“I don’t know,” I say, feeling a twinge of concern. “What if I don’t consent to it?”
“If you don’t consent, we can’t do your examination,” he replies flatly. “Without an examination, we can’t find a suitable home for you. Which means you go into the incinerator.”
“Incinerator?” My eyes get wider. “You’re going to kill me if I don’t consent to the examination?”
“Nothing personal,” he assures. “We have rules, but we try to be respectful of the customs of the refugee home worlds. Former home world in your case. It has been a few years since Earth went boom.”
“Hold on, wait. A few years?” It feels like my head is spinning. Too much information. Too much happening.
“Yes, processing refugees takes a while and we’re short staffed,” he says. “This refugee center is old and mostly used for training. But don’t worry. We have everything we need here.”
He taps the screen and turns it so I can see it. Earth is on the screen. It’s spinning fast enough for me to tell the video is moving at an accelerated speed. Then the meteor appears, and the size of it compared to Earth is much bigger than I realized. Much bigger than the news said, before they stopped giving updates.
“This is about the time when the Intergalactic Alliance showed up. You’re in one of those beams,” he says, pointing at the blue lights darting toward the planet and retracting in a blur. “And… big boom.”
The blue lights disappear. The meteor hurls toward Earth, and then it makes impact, somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, if my geography lessons are correct. A ripple seems to shake the entire planet, and the oceans rise until all I can see is blue before there’s an explosion so bright I have to look away.
“Doesn’t get any better from here, trust me,” he says, ending the video. “But you were long gone by then, already in cryostasis. Now, have you made your decision? Do you consent to the examination, or should I lower you into the incinerator?”
I close my eyes, taking a few quick breaths. Almost everyone I know is dead. I expected to be one of them and was content with that. Mostly because it was inevitable. There was nothing I could do to stop it. But Earth is gone, and I’m still alive. I don’t want to be incinerated.
“Fine, you can examine me,” I mutter, blinking away a tear before opening my eyes. “But if you’re familiar with Earth customs, then you should know that consent can be withdrawn at any time. If I tell you to stop, you have to stop.”
“Of course. If you tell me to stop, I’ll end the examination and lower you into the incinerator,” he explains, leaning forward. “Open your mouth. I need to count your teeth.”
I swallow hard and open my mouth. His hands are similar to human hands, just red, and he has metallic black talons instead of fingernails. I tense up when they get near my mouth, but he’s surprisingly gentle. He taps the metal against each tooth as he counts them, leaving my mouth tingling a little after he’s done.
“Twenty-eight. Humans are supposed to have thirty-two, according to what it says here,” he murmurs, tapping on the screen. “Are you defective in some way?”
“Defective? No,” I say. “I had my wisdom teeth removed when I was in high school. They grew in sideways.”
“Sounds like a defect,” he says, continuing to tap the screen. “I’ll mark you as defective.”
“Wait, that doesn’t mean you’re going to incinerate me, does it?” I whimper, starting to get more scared than I already am.
“No, it just excludes a few planets where they don’t take defective refugees,” he explains. “Don’t worry, most of those are terrible planets anyway. A planet full of perfect beings? Boring, if you ask me. I’m defective too, as I’m sure you can tell.”
I look him over, but I don’t see anything that looks defective. He just looks like a grotesque demon, not much different than some of the ones I’ve seen in horror movies, even if he says this isn’t one.
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask.
“One of my horns is shorter than the other.” He leans forward, and even looking directly at them, I can’t tell the difference.
“They look the same to me,” I mutter.
“You’re too kind,” he says dryly, leaning down to examine my eyes. “Vision is perfect. No defects there. I like how blue they are. Reminds of the Corinthian Ocean from my world. You’d have to see it to understand what I mean.”
“Um, thank you… I think,” I say, still apprehensive and concerned.
He glances at his screen, then he drags a talon from the edge of my eye to my ear. “Turn your head, please.”
I do as he asks and he pushes the talon into my ear. Just enough to tickle, but not enough to hurt. I endure it the best I can, then let him examine the other ear.
“Hearing is perfect. No defects there,” he says. “Have you ever broken any of your bones? Wait, oh. I see your bones can be broken rather easily. Yes, please answer the question.”
“No, never,” I answer truthfully.
“I see you’ve already provided a blood sample,” he murmurs, tapping his screen. “Not enough for a full reading, though. You’ll feel a pinch.”
Before I can ask what kind of pinch he means, he digs a talon into my neck and I cry out. “Ow!”
“You’re a sensitive little thing, aren’t you?” he asks, something that resembles a smirk twisting the edge of his lips.
Blood trickles from my neck and as soon as it hits the table, the metal absorbs it. He doesn’t do anything about the wound on my neck. He just lets it continue bleeding as he studies his screen, but thankfully, it doesn’t seem to be much more than a scratch.
“No concerns with your bloodwork,” he says, then he cups a hand around my right breast, squeezing and kneading it. “Normal response to stimulation, good, good.”
He moves his hand to my left breast and caresses it. His eyes remain focused on the screen. This time, he runs the tip of his finger over my nipple, which causes it to pebble. I can’t help squirming in response. Apparently, I really am a sensitive little thing.
“What are you even checking for?” I mutter.
“Human women can have… lumps? You don’t have any,” he says, moving his hand to my stomach. “Any stowaways in here? Extra passengers?”
“Extra… no, I’m not pregnant!” I say quickly.
“Good, most planets worth living on won’t take a pregnant refugee,” he says. “I’d have to extract the stowaway and send it to the incinerator. Hate when I have to do that. It always upsets my patients.”
“Yeah, killing babies has a way of upsetting people,” I mutter, feeling even more uneasy with how casually he says it.
“Not where I’m from. We sacrifice every third offspring to our sun,” he says. “Well, we used to, before our sun expanded and swallowed our planet. Now those of us who survived realize how silly it was.”
He walks along the side of the table, then turns, until there’s only one thing he could be staring at. Tension tightens my muscles. My toes curl and uncurl anxiously. Part of me wants to stop him before he examines me further, but that means I get incinerated. The examination is invasive, but not bad enough for me to choose a fiery death over it after being saved from one.
“Humans don’t like being touched here, according to my chart, so I’ll try to make this quick,” he says, leaning down. I feel his talons against my folds and I whimper, then whimper louder when he spreads them. “No defects here. You’re still a virgin, hmm?”
“Yes,” I answer, my hips twitching from the contact. “How can you tell?”
“You don’t smell like dick,” he replies. “Wait, is that the right word? Penis. You don’t smell like a penis.”
“I sure hope not,” I say.
“Engaging in reproductive activities leaves an odor behind, no matter how long it’s been since you were last inseminated,” he explains. “But you have a pure scent. Very good. That’ll help with your placement.”
His talon moves along my folds, up to my clit. He presses the tip into it, and it makes me whimper from a mixture of discomfort and reluctant pleasure. I squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t like this part of the examination at all, but I feel myself getting wetter.
“Clear arousal, interesting,” he says, tracing his finger down the other fold until the metal tip is against my entrance. “It’s red for the women from my planet, similar to your blood.”
“Do you really have to document the color of… of that?” I whisper, my body shuddering. “Please, this is very uncomfortable.”
“Document? No. I’m done with your examination. This is just my own curiosity,” he says. “I haven’t been doing this long. You’re the first human I’ve had on my table. I’m a scientist, Avery. I will not hurt you.”
I shudder again as his talon rubs the outside of my entrance, parting it just slightly. I ball my fists, toes clenching and unclenching. Now there’s a rattle. My body rattling against this table.
As usual, my first response turns into humor between the please stop and no, no, no echoing in my head.
“Where I’m from, the scientists probably say that to the rats before they reach for the scalpel,” I whimper.
He stops rubbing and pulls his finger away, the redness in his eyes darkening for a moment. “My apologies,” he says, standing up and walking to the wall. “You’re not a rat, Avery. You’ll be placed somewhere wonderful. Best of luck.”
The door opens and he exits the room. I look away from the bright light, and then the room begins to transform.
The clamps release. The metal table I’m on morphs, with me staying pressed against it as it turns into a soft chair that resembles a beanbag but feels like I’m sitting on a cloud. I’ve never broken a bone, but I hurt my knee playing softball in high school. It hurts sometimes when I sit, but in this chair, I can’t even feel an ache.
Then the walls begin changing. The cold, sterile tile sinks into panels that spin until the walls are a soft, pale gray, the same color as the bedroom I grew up in. The one I still live in, but I’ve made a few changes since the meteor appeared in the sky. Some I’m not proud of.
Then pictures appear on the walls and the walls expand. Posters. Artwork. I recognize all of it.
“It’s re-creating my childhood bedroom,” I gasp as I watch a bed rise from the floor. One that looks identical to the one I’ve slept in for most of my life. The covers are even casually tossed, the way I always leave them.
I stare in awe as the transformation continues; clothes appear on my body like threads being woven together until I’m wearing my favorite Taylor Swift t-shirt and jeans. Exactly what I was wearing for the end of the world.
Suddenly, the examination doesn’t seem as concerning as I thought it was.
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