My System Gives Me Participation Points

I burst into Rory and Timothy's room, bracing myself for chaos, and just as I crossed the threshold, the system's familiar bing! rang out—only this time, it wasn't the soft chime I'd grown accustomed to. It sounded more like da-da-da-da-ba-da! Like some sort of level up tone. It echoed in my ears and I wondered what it was for.

[System update: Initiating level One: user has officially accepted the Godsystem.]

I froze. Level 1? I'm only starting level 1 now? I thought I would be to level 2 by now!

The mess of toys and water on the floor now began me on some sort of journey. However the weight of that notification didn't bother me. Level 1, so what?

Before I could resume cleaning, another notification materialized, the text practically screaming at me:

[Quest Chain Activated: The Custodian of Balance

[Objective: Prepare for the Great Apocalypse. Your training will encompass all critical skills required to safeguard the existence of the human race. Tasks will now scale in difficulty and complexity to accelerate your readiness.

Estimated Time to Complete: 18 years.]

18 years.

My heart rose to my throat as the system began a countdown. A glowing clock hovered ominously in the corner of my vision, ticking down the seconds like a time bomb.

[157,776 hours until Ragnarok]

[157,775 hours ; 59 minutes; 59 seconds]

[….157,775 hours; 59 minutes; 58 ….57….56…55….54]

That's all the time I had left. 18 years.

The room spun for a moment, and I grabbed the edge of the dresser to steady myself. "This… this can't be real."

The next notification appeared, almost mockingly casual:

[Failure Result: Death of species.]

I blinked at the words, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. "Why?" I muttered, glancing back at Rory and Timothy, who were gleefully splashing water from a toy bucket, not a care in the world. The system didn't care about their antics—or maybe it did, because yet another notification popped up.

[Task Prioritization Updated: Level 1—Master housekeeping. Failure to manage household will result in penalty to existential integrity. Current status: Critical.]

I sank to the edge of the bed, staring at the flood of alerts. Household management? Existential integrity? What kind of cosmic joke was this? Also who would be caught cleaning during the apocalypse?

Apparently me.

[New Skill Acquired: Awareness of Interconnected Systems. Use this knowledge to identify how mundane tasks impact the survival if the human race.]

I laughed bitterly. "Interconnected systems?

All I see is a bunch of interconnected toys and laundry! How is this supposed to help me stop the world from… ending?"

The system seemed indifferent to my questions. Instead, it doubled down.

[Prepare yourself. The fate of all realms depends on your ability to adapt and learn. Training module complete.]

The screen faded, leaving only the mess in front of me and a growing sense of dread. Folding laundry, doing dishes, and taking out the trash had been ridiculous enough—but now it was starting to feel like practice for something much, much bigger.

I glanced down at my damp sock, the one survivor after its partner had been claimed by the previous horrors of the day. My shoulders slumped. "Great. I'm supposed to save humanity, and I can't even keep my feet dry."

With a reluctant groan, I stood up straighter and went back downstairs and grabbed a mop. If this was level one, I had a long way to go to being ready.

—————-

I paced around the living room for the next few hours until my husband Michael came home.

I tried to tell him about everything that had happened to me that day and that was a mistake.

"There are no forks, there are no clean socks and the apocalypse is coming." I finished my story.

He nodded and nodded "uh huh." He muttered, fixing himself a tuna sandwich. He interrupted me at the end of my story to say, "hey babe, where are all the forks?"

"Gaaaaaaa!!!!!!!" I screamed out out and threw myself dramatically on the couch. "Nobody listens to me ever!"

He came over and tried to give me a hug. "I listen." He said sweetly, acting all innocent. But he hadn't. I sighed. "Nevermind, I'm going off to work."

I opened the door. And then I wondered something, I peered out, like a conspiracy theorist expecting to see a UFO. "Is it starting already? Are there signs? Plagues? Fire raining from the sky?"

My neighbor, Mrs. Hargrove, was walking her chihuahua across the street, completely at peace. I squinted suspiciously. "She's definitely part of the system. No one's that calm with the world ending."

Did everyone have a system now? Or just me? I definitely didn't feel like the type who would be a main character. I was just a housewife.

Did my husband have a system too? I narrowed my eyes at him now eating his tuna sandwich. He had used a spoon.

"Do you need something?" He asked, noticing my stares and the front door was cracked open, letting in cold air. "You're going to let the cat out." He reminded me.

I looked and my girl was trying to sneak her way out.

"I'm off to work." I said, and I finished exiting, and closed the door, disappointing my cat.

"Ok just try to act normal Evie." I said to myself. "Just stay calm."