The Last Technomancer

“I can’t believe it.” The morning fog hung heavy in the parking lot of the Arcadia strip mall, casting a ghostly haze over the faded signs and cracked asphalt. The once-vibrant colors of the storefronts had dulled with time, much like the dwindling foot traffic. I stared down at the grate, trying to catch a glimpse of my keys and silently willing them back up into my hand where they had been only moments before. The reflection of a neon "Open" sign flickered in the murky water below. “What a shit show,” I muttered, pulling out my phone to ring the assistant manager.

A gruff “Maura? What’s going on? It’s so early,” greeted me after only a brief eight rings.

“Hey, Kevin. I’m going to need you to come unlock the store for me. I’m sorry, I dropped my keys down the storm drain at work.”

Kevin sighed, and after a beat of silence, I pulled out the big guns. “I’ll work a double today to make it up to you. I know calling you before 9 am is sacrilege, especially after the midnight release last night.”

Ziiiipppp. The sound of jingling keys and the zipping of jeans signaled that the bribe was effective.

“Yeah, kay. I’ll be there in ten.” The line went dead.

I glanced over at the door of Game Nexus, where about 15 people were lined up, their breath visible in the chilly air. Biolands IV had dropped today, and the crowd was buzzing with excitement. It’d be a busy day, but not nearly busy enough. If business didn’t pick up soon, I wouldn’t make it through the end of the year. The thought nagged at me, twisting my gut as I imagined the looming deadlines for both my store and the web app I was developing. If this app worked out, maybe—just maybe—I could finally leave retail behind.

With a sigh, I found the number for a locksmith who could retrieve my keys from the drain. Sitting down on the curb, I called and explained my situation to the guy on the other end. He laughed—a horsey, annoying howl that grated on my nerves.

“Wooo weeee! That’s a Wednesday morning for you. I’m pretty booked up, but I can be there between, 12 and 8, does that work for you?”

12 and 8? That’s not an estimate, that’s an entire day. I thought, barely holding back my exasperation. Before I could respond, the man spoke again.

“Tell ya what. We’ll slap an urgent on this. I’ll be out before 10. But it’ll be an extra $50 urgent fee. This way, you don’t have to worry about the keys falling deeper and having to replace the whole set.”

I swore under my breath. “Okay. Sounds good. Thank you.” After giving him the address and my credit card number, I hung up and put my head in my hands. Now I’m working a double, and I’m out a whole day’s pay.

I was pulled out of my self-loathing spiral by Kevin ruffling my hair. I jumped and looked up at the man who had become a really good friend of mine. “Dude. You look awful.” And he did. Dark circles under his eyes made his slender face look almost skeletal. A rough patch of unshaven beard came in splotches around his face. “Are you sleeping at all?”

Kevin smiled that retail smile that was all too familiar. Anyone who has spent time in retail knows the smile—polite, slightly toothy, picture-perfect, with dead, lifeless eyes that scream, please, please let me out of this misery. “Oh, I’m fine, Maura. I stayed up playing Biolands, that’s all. Needed to blow off some steam after the day we had yesterday.”

I knew what he meant. Kevin wasn’t just a gamer; he was a perfectionist, the kind of guy who’d rather lose sleep than leave a game unbeaten. Maybe it was his way of coping with the monotony of retail, or maybe it was just his nature—always pushing himself, even when there was no need.

“Listen, I know you said you’d cover my whole shift, but I’ll come in at 6 and finish things up. That way, I can go get some sleep, and you can go home and work on that app.”

I’d been designing a web app for my freelance company. This was my largest contract yet, and it could be my ticket out of the endless grind of retail. If it was as successful as I was hoping, I might finally be able to transition into software development full-time. “Thanks, Kev. I know you just want my store, though,” I joked as we walked to the door.

Pushing past a couple of very antsy people in line, Kevin let me into the store and nodded sleepily at me before sauntering back to his car. I locked the door once more behind me. Ten minutes. I could get the store open and ready in ten minutes.

Twenty minutes later, the store was open, and the line of customers who had been waiting were gone. I stood in the silence of my once-thriving video game store, the echoes of past midnight releases and bustling Saturdays haunting the empty aisles. At twenty-nine, The reality of my situation pressed down on me like a weight. I had to make this app work, or else this store, my little piece of the gaming world, would be just another casualty of the digital age.

The bell above the entrance chimed, pulling me from my thoughts. Another potential customer entered, and I quickly stationed myself behind the counter, plastering on my best customer-service smile. But as I looked up, I realized it wasn’t a customer—it was the locksmith I had called earlier. The man, somewhere in his forties, had unkind eyes that scanned the store with a critical gaze. His thinning hairline betrayed the passing of time, but it didn’t dim the air of superiority he carried.

“Surprised you’re still in business,” he muttered, his tone dripping with condescension as he walked up to the counter. “Place looks dead.”

I bit back a retort, used to remarks like these. “You’re here for the keys in the storm drain, right?” I asked, keeping things professional.

He nodded, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than I liked before he finally turned and headed back outside. I watched him through the store’s glass door as he knelt down near the drain, pulling out his tools. My mind wandered as I stared at the empty spaces on the shelves where once-popular titles and collectibles had sat proudly.

My side gig as a software and website developer was starting to take off, and with luck, it might soon allow me to leave this place behind. But the thought of abandoning the store weighed heavily on me. I used to love this place—now it just felt like another reminder of how much things had changed.

A few minutes later, the locksmith returned, holding my keys. Relief washed over me, but something in his expression made me uneasy. He approached the counter, dangling the keys just out of my reach.

“Here they are,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips. “But you know, I was thinking… maybe these keys are worth more than just my fee.”

I frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, suggestive tone. “How about we make a deal? I’ll give you your keys back… if you agree to go out with me. Dinner, maybe? A little date?”

My stomach churned, and I took a step back, instinctively putting more space between us. “That’s not going to happen,” I said firmly, my voice colder than I intended.

His smirk widened, and he twirled the keys around his finger. “Come on, don’t be like that. It’s just a date. What’s the harm?”

I could feel my pulse quickening, the situation spiraling into something I hadn’t anticipated. “Just give me my keys,” I demanded, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’ve already paid you for the job.”

The locksmith’s expression darkened, and he stopped twirling the keys. “You know, I could just drop these right back down that drain. Then what would you do?”

A cold sweat broke out across my skin as I realized he was serious. “You wouldn’t.”

He shrugged, his eyes narrowing. “Try me.”

Before I could respond, the ground beneath us suddenly trembled. An earthquake? We never get earthquakes around here. I steadied myself on the counter as a stack of new releases tumbled to the floor behind me. I turned to watch them fall, and my eyes widened as the cases began turning to shimmering dust moments before they would have hit the ground. Just as I spun back to the locksmith, ready to demand my keys again, the surroundings glitched, and a cosmic distortion unfolded outside.

The locksmith, now more alarmed than predatory, clutched the counter. "What the hell?" he exclaimed, panic replacing his earlier smugness.

Before I could even process what was happening, an unseen force whisked me away. My familiar video game store vanished, and all the air rushed out of my lungs as my ears began ringing. Complete blackness took over my vision, and I felt myself slipping away.

When I finally came to, I was lying on a cool floor. My mind raced before I even opened my eyes. Was I having a stroke? I took a deep breath in through my nose—no smell of toast, so probably not. Is smelling toast even a real symptom? I wondered, trying to calm myself as I opened my eyes. But what I saw didn’t exactly relieve my concerns. I pushed myself to my feet, finding myself standing in a brightly lit room—if you could even call it a room, since there were no walls or any visible end to the bright area around me. A holographic message suddenly illuminated before me:

Congratulations, Maura Everhart! Earth has been chosen as one of sixty-two planets in the Milky Way Galaxy to be initiated into the multiverse. Your tutorial will begin in: 15:00 minutes.

A countdown timer materialized in the air, slowly ticking down the seconds.

“What the…?” Confusion painted my face as I absorbed the unexpected transformation. The mundane existence of managing a dying video game store had unraveled, and now I was standing at the threshold of something I couldn’t even begin to understand. I narrowed my eyes and muttered aloud to no one in particular, “I saw an anime like this once. The main character became a slime, I think.”