Archie kept talking, off the record now, laying out the terms, the rules, the loopholes he’d already burned through. Time stayed folded for a while. Like one of Bea’s paper fortune teller origami puzzles. Bea loved them. Dorian would pick a word, and she would spell it out: open, closed, open, closed. Then the truth was revealed.

  Their remaining conversation went that way. He remembered it in fragments. What mattered now was keeping all he loved safe. So in his mind, each question folded into the next like the paper tents on Bea’s fingers. He knew that looking for a way out was futile—the time for that had stopped.

  T - R - I - A - L?

  Archie: “The notice you saw is not metaphorical. ‘Evaluation pending’ means you’re about to be cross-examined.”

  Dorian: “By the judge?”

  Archie: “In a sense. He is the one who lets you into the Crucible.

  J - U - D - G - E?

  Archie: “He is another part of the system. My balance. I want the stories to continue. He does not.”

  Dorian: “So why do I need to convince him to let me in?”

  Archie: “We each get a few secondary thread slots for each primary. I’ve spent all of mine, and so has he.”

  Dorian: “So you can’t even put me on his side?”

  Archie: “Neither of us can.”

  H - O - W?

  Archie: “I’m going to sneak you in the back door. He has one secondary selection slot remaining, but for Elias Gray.”

  Dorian: “My brother’s weird roommate from college. He and Remi were inseparable for years. He even came home for Christmas vacation one year. Then he disappeared.”

  Archie: “That’s the one. The system remembers you two interacted in university; it is a usable tether, especially for their planned narrative reunion.”

  Dorian: “So you’re sneaking me in attached to him?”

  Archie: “Exactly. It’s better for you. Gives Bea another anchor thread.”

  O - T - H - E - R - S?

  Archie: “Most of the others agreed already in their sleep. We didn’t need them for our selection. I picked mine, and he picked his.”

  Dorian: “So then the problem with me is that you picked me. But need him to pick me instead.”

  Archie: “Correct.”

  Dorian: “So what happens if he doesn’t?”

  Archie: “You and Bea get backed up. Our verbal agreement is void as you are not a secondary. You will likely be offered an NPC agreement, but you can no longer impact the story. To hurt or help your brother.”

  Dorian: “Great.”

  Archie: “Not really; you are going to be really entertaining.”

  Dorian: “For a system that manages stories, your grasp of sarcasm concerns me.”

  R - U - L - E - S?

  Archie: “Your consent triggered the review. When time restarts, the summons will follow. Just know you won’t be able to lie. He will know. So you have to convince him you should be on Team Elias.”

  Dorian: “How am I supposed to do that?”

  Archie: “Not sure, really. But that is sort of your problem. I will say that the system has noted that you and Elias have a mutual animosity towards your brother. So work with that.”

  Dorian: “Anything else.”

  Archie: “I am for stories, and the judge ultimately wants to end them. He won’t say it, but he will want Remi to fail. He is a simple creature—he thinks in binaries. If I am a one, he is a zero. So if you sound like a man who’d fight his brother, he’ll likely keep you. But you are going to have to convince him.”

  Dorian: “Sounds simple enough.”

  Archie: “Not really.”

  Dorian: “Sarcasm.”

  Archie: “Noted.”

  T - H - E - N?

  Dorian: “Once in, what do I do?”

  Archie: “I don’t care, really. Just make the story a good one. What you do is entirely inconsequential. Brother versus brother has a long legacy of interesting stories. So does reforging broken familial bonds.”

  Dorian: “So I can pick?”

  Archie: “Of course, I’m all about free will.”

  Dorian: “I see you understand irony.”

  Archie had finished reading his fortune, and Dorian was left with an OUTLOOK NOT SO GOOD

  It was actually called a cootie catcher. Dorian had looked up the etymology. It came from the cootie game, and the word cootie itself was British military slang. A word for the body lice that infested soldiers in the trenches. It seemed appropriate to him, as he thought about her little fingers inside the origami, hoping to discover a better future.

  He thought of her laughter as she flipped the folds—red, blue, green, yellow—believing that paper could change her fate.

  That paper couldn’t, but he might be able to.

  He knew what he was going to do, and while his path wasn’t certain, he would do what he had to in order to protect those small pair of hands, tucked into paper pockets, that still believed in better endings.

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  Dorian Page had selected his color, opened his flap, and picked the only word to guide his fate that made any sense to him.

  W - A - R!

  * * *

  The world collapsed just as the folder described. It didn’t end with a bang, or even in a whimper; it ended in a yawn. Lucky for Dorian, he had been given some advanced notice and needed to get some shit done first.

  The countdown started when Archie had left the Mercedes with as much flair as he had entered it. He tapped his watch, quoted Alice in Wonderland: “Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be late!”

  Dorian recognized the line, but only because of Remi. He had insisted on reading the story to Bea during one of his visits. It was total nonsense in Dorian’s estimation. He’d even told Remi so. His brother had only smiled in that patronizing way that he had and said, “Philosophy often looks like nonsense at first glance.” Remi was certain that the book was filled with truths Bea should understand. Dorian had only shrugged. He’d gone into his study to work on some case files.

  After Remi had gone home, Dorian picked the book off the floor where they had left it. He’d sat next to his sleeping daughter and read it himself. Fuck, he hated it when his brother was right! The day had sent Dorian down his own rabbit hole, as he explored more of Lewis Carrol’s philosophy.

  So when Archie left, having just shared the last bit of truths, and the difficulty of the path that lay before Dorian, he knew the line for what it was. This was the only remaining help that Archie could give. He’d then opened the door, got out of the car, made some glib comment about joining his brother to discuss his journal and then gently shut Dorian into his metal cage with a soft click.

  The world lurched forward again.

  A clock somewhere restarted, and the first, second fell away.

  T–60:00 | “…I’m late for a very important date…”

  Dorian didn’t know what he was counting down to—only that every minute now brought him one step closer to the end. He didn't have time to sit around; he had stuff to do. First was finishing his case.

  He exited his car and retrieved his briefcase from the trunk. He slid the Crucible folder inside and rushed upstairs. A quick glance at his watch showed him he had only five minutes to get to the courtroom. Regardless of the fact that the world was going to end, if it didn’t, he had a man that needed his apartment fixed.

  The click of his Italian loafers echoed down the hallway as he exited the parkade. He placed his case on the scanner as he blazed through security. He nodded at Al, the regular guard. They were fairly friendly with each other. Often, Dorian would stop and chat, but now wasn't the time. “Morning Al. In a bit of a rush today, running late for Judge Atchison.”

  Al nodded and smiled. “No worries. Grab a donut. I know you likely skipped breakfast.”

  Dorian’s thanks was said through a mouthful of that same donut. He held it between his teeth as Al gave a pre-functionary wand wave over his body. He bobbed his head one last time at Al and continued to the waiting courtroom.

  The trial itself was less eventful than his morning exchange. Normally, he would have taken his time, using the trial to punish the slumlord; however, Dorian didn't have time for that today either. He laid out his argument, questioned the witnesses, and objected as required. The proceedings were precise. Surgical. The words came automatically, which was good, as his focus was split. As the verdict landed, with his client being awarded damages and the slumlord ordered to make repairs, his mind was fully somewhere else.

  A quick handshake, and Dorian was again on the move, rushing from the courtroom. He looked at his watch.

  Dorian had some phone calls to make. The first was to Bea. She wasn’t permitted her cellphone in school, so after he found himself an empty interview room on the third floor, and after he texted a quick, I love you message which he hoped she might see later; he opened his contact list and searched for the school.

  The ringing was annoying, and the automated message he had to listen to prior to selecting zero for the operator was even more so. Finally, however, someone picked up.

  “Good morning. Thank you for calling Bellweather Preparatory School. How may I direct your call?”

  The secretary had a chirpy, faux-cheerful voice that they all seemed to have. Honestly, it always grated on his nerves whenever he heard it. Luckily, not that often.

  “Hello, this is Dorian Page, Bea’s father. I’m hoping that I can talk to her. It is really important.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Page, but she is at recess right now. It just started, but I can have her call you in half an hour when she is back in class.”

  Dorian’s heart sank. “Can you tell her I love her, and that I’ll see her as soon as I can.”

  The secretaries’ response sounded confused. “Sure, but you can tell her yourself when she—.”

  He cut her off. “That will be too late.”

  “Too late for—.”

  He simply hung up. No time for pleasantries. He still had too much to do.

  His second call was one that he never expected to be making. It rang twice and then went straight to voicemail. Shit!

  The voice of his brother came on the line: This is Remi. You know what to do.

  Dorian was surprised at the wash of feelings he had as he heard his brother speak for the first time in over a year. Warmth at hearing the familiar timbre and pattern of his speech. Frustration that he still had the same stupid message. He thought he was so damn funny all the time. But mostly he felt sadness. He really had hoped he would pick up. Dorian had so much to say, and now he might never get to say it.

  BEEP!

  Remi, it’s Dorian. I know this will sound crazy, but the world is ending, and the system is coming for you. There is something I need to tell you in person. I don’t know if you will get this, but I’m coming.

  He hung up. The silence between them hung like a weight across Dorian’s chest.

  Dorian put his phone inside his jacket pocket. He finally sat, and exhaustion flooded his body. No time for that! He set the briefcase on the table and pulled out the Crucible folder.

  He needed to learn as much as he could. Dorian doubted he would be permitted to bring the file with him.

  Dorian scanned each page, absorbing the information like evidence. Remi had always been smarter than he. It pained him to admit it, but he had one thing that Remi didn’t—an eidetic memory. If Dorian looked at a page for about 10 seconds, it became archived in his brain. He could then recall the page and read it later. Even though Remi called it a party trick, Dorian had found it an invaluable skill as a lawyer.

  So he got to work. The file was thick, and even at his speed, Dorian had his work cut out for him. The words were meaningless now; he just memorized patterns, symbols, schematics. Dorian Page stopped being a man and became a photocopier.

  It took Dorian twenty-two minutes to memorize the 132-page dossier. Another glance at his watch showed him with about three minutes, give or take, before whatever was going to happen actually happened.

  He had never really thought about what he would do if he had only three minutes left. He wasn't sure what his brother would do. But he knew it wasn’t what Dorian, now faced with potential annihilation, opted to do with his final remaining minutes. Which was to watch football. Dorian smiled as he pulled out his phone and started a recording of last night’s game. He always watched the games on Sunday night when he didn’t have Bea, but recorded them on his Sundays. He loved football, but when compared to time with Bea, it wasn’t even a choice. But in this moment, when he could do nothing else but wait. He found watching the game calming. It freed his mind from the worry of the present and permitted him to formulate his plan in the background. Dorian had one more trial to win today.

  Dorian had started watching football mainly to spite his brother, who hated anything he could call sports ball. He had continued to watch it because the game had a symmetry that appealed to the defense lawyer in him. Every play began in confusion but resolved with structure. It had a rulebook, and infractions held consequences. But most importantly, it was a game that boiled down to men trying to protect a single man. A defender who tried to keep the quarterback safe. Remi hated football. He said it was just war with pads. And while Dorian had watched it just to annoy him, he told his brother that he watched it because “a good defense won championships.”

  Dorian guessed they were about to test that theory. And like the game that still played in his hands, where he might never know who won and who lost. He was certain of one thing. People often said about football that a good defense is a good offense. But Dorian knew the opposite was in fact true, and the Crucible, and Archie, and the Judge were about to find that out. They were all about to learn what every defense lawyer already knows—that the best offense is actually having a damn good defense.

  The world ended in a freeze. Dorian Page had watched the last seconds tick by on his wristwatch. There was a soft mechanical chime. Then nothing. The second hand on his wrist didn’t fall, because everyone was finally out of time.

  [SYSTEM MESSAGE]

  PRIORITY THREAD: OPEN

  Story Integrity: Degraded

  View Count: Irrelevant

  Narrative Weight: Insufficient

  Secondary Threads: Importing…

  SUMMONS ISSUED — PRE-SYSTEM LAYER ADJUDICATION

  Candidate Thread: CR-002-D (DORIAN PAGE)

  Status: Consent Verified. Integrity Lock Engaged.

  Formal Hearing Proceeding in 3…2…1.

  Tick!

  Code created by Nightbuilder