Nolan stood hesitantly on the platform, gently tapping his index finger on his right temple to pull up a small display in the corner of his vision. Seven forty-eight. Where was the train? Of course it would be late on the day he'd be fired if he wasn't on time. Punctuality was not his strength, and management had started to notice.

He and most of the population farmed for their home, and if they worked more than what they owned, it went to the following month. A handful of countries had kept cash in circulation, but the Americas had abandoned it completely for virtual currencies. There was money to be made inside of Gafford's Life and Senses Simulation, GLASS, and it connected all the countries, though no one had integrated it so fully into their daily lives as the Americas had.

Nobody wanted to be a farmer, but each family was required to have at one. If there were two farmers in the home, the additional income was converted into virtual currency. The job was created out of necessity; humanity was slowly dying of starvation. They barely maintained the population as it was, and babies were being born every day. Even limiting families to one child didn't help; people continued to have children under the radar. Each country slowly began to implement mandatory interviews before pregnancy, and complete genetic modification to ensure the best possible human specimen was heavily recommended.

There was the train. Finally. He pulled his head out of the clouds and checked the time. Twenty minutes late.

The oddly quiet, hulking machines were solar-powered but this one was still run-down. Each car had graffiti, though most of it was in grayscale. Color was a rarity, and anyone who had it wouldn't be wasting it on the side of a train car. Nolan noted the new masterpiece on the third one down had small touches of blue. He smiled.

"Too bad you can't do stuff like that," a sudden voice said.

Nolan checked for people around him; the two women also waiting were absorbed in themselves.

"Not now," he responded softly, keeping an eye on the women in his peripherals. They didn't notice him, "I just want a normal day."

"That sounds like a you problem," the voice was full of youth and sarcasm. Nolan groaned quietly, pressing his nails into the pads of his thumbs, knowing that when he turned his head, there would be a young boy standing next to him. He kept his gaze in front of him, willing the apparition to leave, "I'm not going anywhere today, you need me!"

There was a tiny touch on his hand, and he looked down to see fingers intertwining with his and a headful of messy blonde hair leaning against his arm. Nolan sighed and accepted the hand holding; sometimes he needed his hallucinations as much as they needed him. He enjoyed the odd moment of peace.

It was dramatically shattered by a loud crash and a man suddenly sprinting headlong towards the speeding train. Nolan felt his heart drop into his stomach and immediately ran after him, yelling, screaming, reaching his arms out, and stretching his fingers as far as he could until he barely managed to grab the edge of -

Nothing.

He stopped abruptly, rolling his ankle and falling to the ground, staring at his hands.

A small crowd had gathered around him.

"Why aren't you helping him?" He shouted in shock, pushing himself to his knees but his feet giving out immediately, "Go fucking help him!" Adrenaline surged through him, and he stood, looking for the man who had desperately tried to end his life. There was no one. He didn't understand. The people around him looked concerned, but most had their holographic recorders pulled up through their implanted heads-up-display.

Nolan felt the panic creeping in like vines in his gut. Don't freak out, just don't freak out, he breathed in for four counts, tried to hold it for seven but never made it past three. He saw two young men joking, recording his meltdown, and he felt his willpower give way. He squeezed his nails into the palms of his hands and let out a guttural cry that shocked the closest onlookers into taking several steps back.

"Get. Away. From. Me."

The people all looked at each other and dispersed slowly, knowing there were two distinct types of crazy. Dangerous or not.
A trickle of blood leaked from his hand from where his nails bit into skin. He felt dangerous. A monster lived inside of him, and it was starving. He yelled at the crowd, screaming obscenities and threats. The edges of his vision blurred, his whole being giving way to the devil in him. He wanted to run, ram his head through a window, break his own fingers. Every intrusive thought he'd ever had was at the forefront of his mind.

Before he could grab the nearest object to hurl at the crowd, he felt his arms being grasped and yanked behind him. He fought against the detainment but felt the quick jab of a needle in his neck. It only took a few seconds for him to feel numb around the edges, and less than a minute before he lost consciousness.

The gentle alarm intermingled into her dreams. She barely noticed snoozing it, but the second alarm was less kind. It interrupted her sleepy stories with a loud blaring and, finally, she left the world of dreams and her snoring husband behind. Her feet dangled over the edge of the simple gray double bed while she stretched and yawned. The metal floor was cool against her feet, and she could feel the ocean move beneath her.

They had barely swindled their way into this house, and she was still in the honeymoon phase. It wasn't perfect, but it was theirs and almost no one could take it away from them. In the corner of the bedroom, a stack of crates was still waiting to be unpacked. With a final twist of her spine, she walked into the kitchen and pressed her thumb against the button with a friendly coffee cup on it.
It chirped happily, "Good morning, Persephone! Looks like you had a poor night of sleep. I'll add a shot of espresso to your coffee. Is that okay?"

"Yes, please."

In a short thirty seconds, the clear divider slid up and Percy took her steaming cup. As always, she thanked the A.I. With the way technology was developing, A.I.'s would have their own rights before long. Being nice to them was her way of ensuring survival.
She pulled herself out of a winding train of thought and sipped the coffee, letting it burn the tip of her tongue knowing the nanobots in her blood would take care of the minor damage. They had done most of the work since 2070, and in the last hundred and fifty years, they'd developed enough to make medical doctors nearly irrelevant.

Nearly.

Persephone thought of all the dangerous stunts she'd pulled as a teenager. It was a trend, a fad, to see how much damage your nanos could heal before you had to be sent to a doctor. Humans, if practically immortal, could be so stupid. She chuckled at herself, pulled her mind back into the real world once more, and went to check on her daughter. The seven-year-old, little Nova, slept soundly, snoring softly. Percy's heart swelled.

The girl turned towards her and opened her eyes, "Waffles?"

Persephone laughed and crossed the room, leaning down to kiss her daughter's forehead, "Anything you want, bug."
She heard her husband stirring and went in to say good morning.

"I'm about to make breakfast, do you want some?" she asked, kissing him and running her fingers lovingly through his long hair. He told her no, thank you, that he may sleep in another minute before getting ready for work, and she gave him one last kiss before retreating to the kitchen.

Her life had come together in a way she'd never anticipated. Growing up in a family that couldn't find a way to love each other, she assumed love was for celebrities and movies. When she found her husband, she was floored, and when they found out they were pregnant, she felt like she must have been in a body that wasn't her own. How could she, a woman that barely had a friend, have a family that loved her unconditionally? That loved her through her mental episodes, and through the times she'd had to spend in a hospital because she didn't feel real… her mind wandered.

Again.

She left waffles at the table for Nova and went to her desk in the living room. A slender bar sat on it, about a foot long and two inches wide, and she held her hand above it. It scanned her palm and pulled up a screen with personalized updates. It gave her information on the jobs she was currently running and new ones available. She thumbed through various screens and selected a few different options before tapping both sides of her temple in a specific pattern.

A pair of holographic glasses formed over her eyes and she leaned back in her seat, getting comfortable as she entered GLASS, a world within her world.

The lobby was always the same, no matter where someone logged in. A large hotel lobby with high ceilings, chandeliers, and a large arcing staircase with a velvet carpet in the middle greeted each player. Percy smiled. There was money to be made in every corner, and not in the annoying ads or pyramid schemes. One ad approached her now, quickly, with a sign in his hand and a determined face.

Percy turned on her heel and went up the stairs, where they weren't allowed. She sneered at him, knowing he missed out on his "I at least tried" payment. Working advertisements wasn't bad, not if you went with the right company, but she knew other ways to make cash. She continued down the infinite hallways until she found her room. Everyone with an avatar had a room in the lobby, somewhere to stash loot and somewhere no one else could get in. Not unless invited.

There was no password or lock – it only opened for the right palm print.

Inside was decorated minimally. Without her child, she wasn't sure of her own tastes. The only thing she was sure of was color. In the real world, color was rare – wall to wall was gray, white, black, or somewhere in between. There wasn't a shred of gray in her hotel room. Her husband, contrary to her, had a room that was all varying shades of gray with huge splashes of color. They were very different. He accepted life as it was dealt to him, where she manipulated variables to get a specific result.

In her room, she checked the papers on the wall that were cycling through more available gigs. She grasped two and put them in a satchel she had grabbed. She threw in a few more knickknacks from the shelves – cartoonish potions and large weapons, all falling into the black hole of a bag. Finally, she took a purple crayon from her bag and drew a circle around her. Once completed, a bright light burst through the color and enveloped her. When the light was gone, so was she.

The rest of the day was spent grinding for pennies and dimes, but in the end, she felt gratified in the work she'd done. Her husband had gotten their daughter logged into virtual school, and she was finishing up as Persephone came into her miniature, personalized office. Children were educated inside of GLASS so most parents created a designated schoolroom with their gear.

"Ready for a snack? Dad should be home soon."

Her daughter nodded and embraced her, then went to check the homework she had while Persephone prepared food. The kitchen did most of the work, but there were options to make cooking more manual. Percy appreciated the help; cooking was not her strength.

When her husband returned, she gave him a long hug. In a world where nothing felt real, it was always him and Nova that brought her back to the present. He smiled and brushed a stray hair from her face, "How was your day?"

"Could've been worse," she said, pulling away and going to put her running shoes on, "I need to run though, the M&E broke again."

The movement and exercise machine was required with every virtual reality to ensure no muscle deterioration due to the lack of movement. Both GLASS and the M&E were provided to every household at no cost, though replacements and upgrades were bought out of pocket.

“I should've called a technician the first time – that video made it look so fucking easy…" her husband cursed and grumbled but went into the office to look at the damage he'd done the first time trying to fix it, "I love you!" he called out when he heard the elevator doors engage.

"Love you guys!" she yelled back as the doors closed.

She watched the ocean go by her as the clear elevator slowly brought her to the surface.

The fog lifted in her mind once the sun touched her skin. She had less than an hour until it set, but any earlier and the heat made it unbearable to run. Starting slow, she set off in a mild jog, letting her lungs adjust to the real air. She took steady breaths, enjoying the racing of her heart and the sweat forming on her skin.

The city passed by in a blur; signs and advertisements barking at her to buy the next greatest invention. People moved in listless herds, the heat of the day apparent in their burnt faces. The only ones outside at this hour were the ones who had been outside all day. Farming for their lives, for their children’s lives, for their grandchildren’s lives, if the world lasted that long.

After forty minutes, on the last stretch, she ran faster.

Her eyes looked towards the horizon.

Was that a helicopter?

Two helicopters?

The lights from a siren caught her eye.

No.

She sprinted harder.

People were running, shoving, yelling.

No. No…

She pushed violently through the crowd.

No, please, no…

The screams got higher, full of terror. She ran to the edge of the water and jumped in without thinking. It felt amazing against her hot skin but she didn't notice.

She was shaking.

She couldn't breathe.

Her body belonged to someone else.

She dove down into the water, deep, until her lungs couldn't hold any longer. When she surfaced she took the deepest breath she ever had and let out a guttural cry. She dove down again, searching, praying. She swam deeper, as far as she could go until the water consumed her. They couldn't be gone.

This wasn't real.

None of this was real.

She saw the helicopters and the boats pulling out bodies.

Dead.

They were all dead.

Every single one.

She dove back down and let the water bury her. Her chest burst with pain. She stayed down. Maybe they could pull her up dead too, but her body wouldn't let her die. It floated to the top, and she lay there, motionless, eyes staring down into the ruins of her life.