 It was an average normal day when the world started falling apart. To be honest, I almost missed it. I woke up late to head to work. It doesn't really matter where I work anymore, I suppose. Not with, you know, the impending end of the world. Let's just say I worked as an IT specialist at a large corporation. I wasn't looking forward to yet another long day of sitting around explaining to Karen why she cannot print a YouTube video or arguing whether or not Carl should be allowed to turn off his antivirus and be allowed to go to any site he pleased on company computers. I'll be honest, I seriously considered calling in sick, but my personal sense of honor and duty wouldn't let me. Maybe I should have. I went through my normal daily routine, getting up, showering, brushing my teeth, combing my mess of hair into something that looked like I actually tried, then grabbing a couple microwave burritos and a thermos of coffee on my way out the door. The drive there was uneventful, and when I sat down, I looked at my submitted tickets. Surprisingly, there weren't any. A faint smile flickered over my face and I took a sip from my coffee thermos. Perhaps today wouldn't be that bad. Then the first ticket came in. It wasn't anything too major, just an office executive with a pop-up on his screen that won't go away. I clicked on the email, scanned the details when I realized something. This wasn't just any office schmuck, this was Janet Klein. She actually understood how computers worked and knew better than to click on random links. I started to become concerned and my fears only multiplied when another ticket came in, saying the exact same thing. Then another, then another, and another, and another, and another, until I had hundreds of identical requests for help. Oh God, I said, putting my head in my hands. A cyber attack. Great. Wonderful. The frantic dinging of my computer, letting me know I had a new tech ticket died down as presumably the last of the office put in their complaints. And I took a long swig of my coffee. For a second, I simply stared at the massive emails in my inbox, then sighed heavily and started to go through the mountains of resetting the network when, wouldn't you know it, a new window opened up on my screen. It had a bright red background, and there was a huge block of text in what looked like a system commands at the top. I figured it must be some sort of ransomware and that they were making demands, lacking anything else to do, because my mouse had disappeared behind the window. I began to read error 005 9879, critical system failure, running diagnostics, reality processing, OK, artificial intelligence, OK, time, space, continuity engine, OK, reality anchor core, failing error message. If you're reading this, that means something has gone horribly wrong. So I'm going to get right to the point. You may have already had your suspicions, but the world around you isn't real. It's a huge simulation, perfect and immaculate down to the tiniest microscopic lifeform designed to keep you occupied while your immortal body sits around for eons. You can't leave once you enter, but you knew that. You agreed to it, signed your eternity away to living out countless lives one after another rather than sit and do nothing for forever, an admirable decision. But the system is falling apart. This error message means that the world you know is coming to an end. The rules of the reality you have spent countless lives in are not so slowly becoming irrelevant and strange inexplicable things are happening more and more. Monsters in the dark, strange places with strange rules, people going mad and committing horrible inhuman atrocities, and soon the collapse of physics in space as you know it. You may have already seen it. You may have encountered a glitch already. Your reality has come unhinged. As for what you can do to stay safe, here are some general rules that alter the system slightly so that the reality is a little more stable in a given area. Please make sure the door latches when you leave a room and close it. Even if you're coming right back, it reduces rendering for you, so there's less room for a glitch to occur. If you encounter a strange door or room in your house, do not enter. Leave the house, close and lock the door, wait for at least 20 seconds for the house to refresh, and then you can go back inside. If the door is still there, ignore it until you go to sleep. If someone is following you and it doesn't sound human, do not look back. Audio glitches will be common, but they can only solidify into a physical entity if you acknowledge them. If you see strange flowers growing in places they shouldn't, such as on a wall, in a sidewalk, indoors, etc., gently touch each of the five petals once and then pick the flower. These are what amounts to recalibration points and will reset the reality in a 50 meter radius. If you do this improperly, it will worsen the reality collapse. Do not practice witchcraft or any other forms of magic. They directly interfere with the code and may contribute to reality collapse in your area. This includes, but is not limited to, voodoo, hexes, arcane study, alchemy, etc., quantum physics manipulation may at times stray into this. So any teleporters, hover trains, or any gravity based technology, if you have it, they have to shut down or else risk the complete collapse of a section of reality. Finally, but most importantly, if you see or hear about or read about something inexplicable and horrible happening, believe it, follow the rules, your life depends on it. End of Error Message I stared, and then I laughed. It wasn't nearly so serious as I thought, just some asshole who decided to try and give the office a nice existential crisis to start their day. I rolled my eyes and went to hard restart my computer. I was still chuckling as the screen went black, all except the error message. I gawked. There's no way. This isn't possible. The world can't be a simulation. But disturbing thoughts flitted through my head. What if it's not a prank? I have been noticing a lot of violent crimes making the news, and what about that bird thing you saw the other day? I stood there firmly denying everything that came to mind. No. There's no way. I'm real. This desk is real. This is some stupid prank or a virus. I was beginning to panic. I shouted to no one in particular. I'm real. I hurled a coffee mug against the wall, shattering it into a thousand pieces. And then I noticed it. Cold sweat trickled down my back as the office around me bustled with the sound of annoyed middle managers and frustrated accountants. Coming out of the wall was a small five petaled flower that looked like it was made entirely out of metal. Someone outside my office is screaming. I wonder why.