They did this to me, is the first thing that pops into my head as I stare at the message floating before me. One of them is in league with my father and trying to drive me insane.

  I clamp down on the thought hard and paranoia fights me as hard.

  There’s no way anyone could even know the van would stop working here.

  I’m imagining a message window in front of my eyes, and it responds.

  “Okay, who passed around the drugs without telling me?” the biker woman demands and I turn my head to her. The window blocks her from view so I turn it more until I see her around the sides. She notices me and instead of facing me, she likewise looks sideways. “Are you seeing this?”

  She’s the one!

  Except that everyone seems to be looking at something before them. A kid is even moving a hand before him as if he’s interacting with something.

  “Do you mean the message welcoming us to the system?” I ask, my tone more tentative than I’d like. Confidence has kept more problems away from me than anything else.

  “Yeah, and what’s this thing about an identity sheet?”

  I shrugged. “Wait, you guys see it too?” the kid calls. “Mom! It’s not just us.”

  He sounds way too happy about this. Kids.

  “I guess we aren’t crazy after all,” the biker woman says with a grin.

  “Just wipe it away!” a woman yells. “It takes care of it.”

  Sure, my father’s voice whispers in my ear, because ignoring problems works so well for you Charles, doesn’t it?

  Half my problem he caused. But remembered goading aside, he did teach me not to ignore anything going on with me.

  I touch it, and instead of passing through, the window sticks to my finger and I can move it to the side. There’s a tactile sensation, a faint static as I do that. When I want to let go I pull my finger away and the window remains where I left it.

  People exclaim surprise and I can see some batting away something only they see. A few tap away in front of them. The kid is making scrolling motions. He’s getting into this. His mother, behind him, is frowning at something she sees. The old couple has retreated away from everyone, they look scared. I take a step toward them

  Don’t you have your own problems to deal with?

  I might hate my father and this devil his influence left me with, but he’s right. I need to get a handle on what’s happening to me.

  I tap the window and it blinks away.

  That was—

  — too much to hope for.

  With the message, a timer appears in the top left of my field of vision. Eighty-nine minutes and change, counting down. I tap it and move it to the top right. More comfortable there.

  Well, insanity suits you, my father’s mocks.

  I ignore him, twenty-five years without him in my life has made that easier to do.

  I go to tap the yes and stop. Reacting to something no one else sees makes me feel like my father has won. That he has driven me insane, so I think it.

  That’s… what is this?

  I glance at the crowd. At least half are not interacting with anything anymore. Did they go through everything already, or did they dismiss it like the woman called to do?

  Who cares.

  I read over—

  You don’t have to be your father, my mother’s voice says.

  “Did you guys read the description for the Identity Sheet?” I ask loudly.

  “Don’t interact with it!” the same woman yells. Now I can identify her. Business suit, high heels, expensive phone in her hand that she glances at as if any moment it’s going to come to life and rescue her. “If you ignore it, it will go away.”

  “Hey!” the kid yells. “You can’t ignore this, come on, you can make yourself into anyone you want.”

  “This is not a game!” she yells at him.

  “Do not raise your voice at my son,” the kid’s mother replies, standing. She’s barely taller than he is, but there’s a ferocity to her feature that shuts the businesswoman down. It doesn’t last. When she looks at her son, she’s lost again and he talks with her in low voice.

  The exchange has the others talking, comparing notes, so I go back to my screen. I did my part, they can handle the rest on their own.

  Name and species. That sounds… why would anyone call humans a species? We’re a race. Does this thing have a wiki?

  Nothing appears. I guess it’s too much to ask for to get a description of what this system means by human species.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  I’m not sure having this system read my mind is a good thing, the only other option is asking the questions out loud, and I won’t be the one to act crazy on top of feeling it at the moment.

  Are the other options?

  The list that appears scrolls by so fast I’m left with an afterimage of it and nothing else. Until the last of them is what’s floating before me. What the hell is a Zorgorath?

  No. The window disappears, leaving the list behind. I glance to the top right. Seventy-two minutes. I have time. I place my finger at the top of the list and move it down as fast as I can. Names scroll by. I see Orcs and think of Lord of the Rings, and how is it that this thing has races from fictional books? Is it bringing them to life? Or is it pulling for the entirety of our imagination?

  Leonid is the only name that’s vaguely familiar when it stops moving. I get it going again, feeling silly, but I’m not the only one doing it.

  When it stops this time, the name at the bottom pulls my attention.

  Dragon.

  That’s a crock. This thing should remove species we can’t take instead of teasing us with that kind of power. The things I could do to my father if I was a dragon.

  And what do you think I’d be?

  You are not stronger than I am. I tell that part of me who can’t stop trying to bring me down.

  I pick human, I think to the system and leave Caucasian. I’m fine with the way I look and I don’t have the time to go through everything. I glare at my name. I shouldn’t hate it, but I can never stop hearing Charles the way that man said it, filled with honey and promises of things he’d do to me.

  Oh, Hell yes. I make the change I want, then ask for information on the class that’s assigned to me.

  I hesitate. That’s more or less what I do. More on the side of moving stuff, less on the one of using magic to do it, but is that going to be useful now? I look at the stopped cars. More importantly, like the kid said, I can make myself into anyone I want. Do I really want to just stick with what I’ve done my entire life?

  I have time, so why not look at my options? There was that human exclusive class, to start with.

  No. I get it now. Jack of all trades, Master of none. Does this system have a sense of humor?

  What do I want to be? To do?

  Me? The voice says in my father’s sickenly sweet voice.

  Kill you, yes. I mentally growl.

  Why not? I almost ask for the class list, but stop myself. That might never end. Instead, I try for the list of combat-related skills.

  It’s not as long, but I’m still dizzy by the time it’s done. With one swipe down it scrolls to the top and I stop myself from asking what an Aborial Jumper might be. If I can’t understand what the name means, I want nothing to do with it.

  Assassin is the next one that means anything and I grin.

  My finger is over the yes when my mother's voice comes to me. Don’t let your father be the reason for your decision, Charlie. We survived him, you have to move on. Look beyond him. This is more a memory than my conscience speaking to me in her voice.

  If I want to be something my father would never be, I can’t be in the combat classes. He was about destroying anyone around him, I’d have to be—

  Near the bottom is Guardian.

  I hesitate again. I’m no defender. I can barely stand others most of the time.

  That’s it, Charles. Remember who matters. Not them you. Do what is best for you.

  No. I tap yes.

  Magic is… an interesting option, but it doesn’t tell me how it’s going to affect the abilities, or what they are

  I read them over. Charge is tempting, but I can feel my father’s influence in that decision. And while I know my mother would approve of the wall ability. It means I’d be stuck around people all the time. That leaves Switch. It’s still something more useful when I’m around others, but that doesn’t have to mean large groups.

  That settles it.

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