A thunderous roar, capable of shattering windows hundreds of meters away with its sound alone, echoed as rain slowly fell, as if deliberately stretching out the horror and confusion of what was happening, scattering its drops across the surface of shattered glass. Confusion and fear together made it impossible to think clearly, when suddenly another crash rang out, the ground jolted, and my legs carried me away on their own.
Heavy breathing, mixed with fear squeezing my heart, was pounding hard in my head. Before me stood a massive building that might once have looked majestic, but now was nothing more than a shadow of a catastrophe it had endured.
Suddenly, as if someone had flipped a switch, all the sounds of the world flooded into my ears. I heard people coughing, their panic and terror, the crying of children, and the blaring of car alarms. The cacophony made it impossible to understand anything, but I kept running without looking back.
"R-a-a-a!"
The monstrous roar came again, and I fell to the ground, trying to cover my ears from the pain… The massive building was collapsing into pieces, and the last thing I managed to see was a gigantic lizard-like head looking off somewhere to the side.
"Ah—!"
I shot awake, jumping up from the bed, feeling my heart pounding wildly.
"Damn dreams… either I don't have them at all, or they're so real you can't tell them apart from reality," I muttered, slowly calming down.
It was just a dream. A simple one—even if it felt disturbingly real.
Flopping back onto the bed, I reached out to the nightstand, found my phone by touch, and checked the time.
"At least I woke up on time," I scoffed, running a hand over my face, trying to shake off the lingering tremor from the dream.
Getting out of bed, I slowly went through my usual routine: brushing my teeth, going to the bathroom, and having breakfast. The recent dream still lingered before my eyes because of how realistic it had been… It didn't happen often, but when it did, it hit hard. I blamed it all on my vivid imagination, along with the books I'd read and the games I played.
"You still here?"
A raspy, smoker's voice of an adult man pulled me out of my thoughts. He stood near the fridge, his face completely lacking any trace of intelligence.
"Yeah, I'm getting ready and leaving," I said, not really wanting to answer.
"Hm."
This so-called human, my stepfather, grunted, watching me with a rather cold look. Bernard Vien—a man who had become my "father" about two years ago. He grew up in a family of French immigrants who moved to Montreal, where he met my mother, a Russian citizen.
Leaving the apartment, I let out a heavy sigh, took out my headphones, put them in, and called the elevator. Montreal isn't a bad place to live—if you ignore rent prices, crime rates, and expensive gas… basically, my mother and I jumped from one fire straight into another, just wrapped in something prettier.
It's been three years since we left Russia in search of a better life. At first, it was hard, but thankfully the money my father had saved was enough. As for him… he didn't pass away—he just "went out for milk." Ran away again, basically. But this time, my mom didn't tolerate it and filed for divorce. With the money we got—and since his parents weren't exactly poor—we moved. I was eighteen back then. Now I'm twenty-one.
But she just moved from one asshole to another—this time with a French flavor. She really doesn't know how to choose men… not at all. And she works nonstop in some shitty restaurant.
"Hey, Vic! Why do you look as gloomy as always?!"
Even through my headphones, I heard the voice of my… let's say, friend. A thirty-year-old student studying with me in the Computer Animation program at Emily Carr University of Art and Design.
"Just not in the mood," I shrugged, replying in English as I pulled my headphones out and put them into my pocket.
"I'd call it your 'Russian mood,' since you're always like this," Chris snorted. "Did you finish the project?"
"Yeah. It's not that hard if you actually listen to the professor."
"Tch, I've got work too," he rolled his eyes.
In these three years, I hadn't really made any close friends. Chris was more like an acquaintance—we just studied together. All my real friends stayed back in Russia, and finding new ones wasn't that easy unless you hung out in clubs and places like that. Not that I needed it. I had a gaming laptop that let me use various design and modeling programs, and games that were my escape.
That same laptop was in my backpack now, and I took it out during class to note down anything important. But then the dream came back to me… That had been Godzilla, right? But I hadn't watched anything about it recently. And before that, I had dreamed about some anime…
By the end of the class, everyone started packing up and leaving. I wanted to ask the professor a couple of questions, but he turned out to be in a hurry too.
"Don't get bored!" Chris waved at me as he left with some girl, laughing about something.
"Yeah… great," I muttered in Russian, staying in the classroom.
A wave of apathy suddenly hit me. I returned to my seat, sat down, and just stared at my laptop, thinking about random things. I should probably get ready since another class would start in half an hour, but… my legs felt heavy, and my motivation dropped almost to zero.
"Damn life…"
Closing my eyes, I forced myself to gather some strength, packed my things, and left the classroom.
There were surprisingly few people in the hallways, but what caught my attention was a man in dark clothing carrying a metal case.The case had "S.C.P." written on it. Some kind of technician or something like that?
As usual, my mood was somewhere below rock bottom, for a reason I couldn't even properly explain. Mechanically moving my legs, I headed toward my next class, noting that I spotted another person in a dark jacket with the same marking…
And when I reached the classroom door, I stopped.
A few seconds of agonizing ожидание… a strange, heavy anticipation of something, as if I simply didn't want to be here right now. It didn't happen often—I usually sat through all my classes—but… whatever. One absence wouldn't matter. Besides, no one counts students here anyway.
I turned around and headed for the exit. There's a Starbucks near the university where I usually grab hot chocolate—a drink that alone makes sitting through classes worth it.
"Yeah… this really brings me back to life," I muttered, sipping the hot, sweet drink as I found a quiet corner and sat down.
Taking out my laptop, I placed it on the table and turned it on. An anime girl greeted me on the screen, lying in water with a sad expression, staring somewhere into the distance. I liked that artwork, and I had set it as my wallpaper a long time ago.
My gaze caught the icon of Diablo II Resurrected, which I hadn't played that much. Playing without plugging the laptop in wasn't exactly enjoyable, but what could you do. Sometimes you just have to follow sudden impulses—and that's exactly what I did, launching the game and pulling out my mouse to connect it.
I created a Necromancer and immediately raised three skeletons beside me. Back in Diablo III, I mostly played as a mage, raining down the power of my spells on enemies. But playing as a Necromancer was fun too—basically, my skeletons handled everything themselves, and I only needed to step in occasionally to help or heal them.
Opening the inventory again, my eye caught a bit of dust in the top-right corner of the screen. Without thinking much, I reached out to gently wipe it away with my finger, figuring I'd clean it properly later at home.
But the moment my finger touched the screen, something strange happened…
The screen flickered with разноцветными помехами for a split second, as if distorted by multicolored static, and my finger… went through it.
"What the—" I hissed under my breath, jumping up and nearly knocking over my hot chocolate.
But now the screen looked completely normal. There wasn't even a hint of what had just happened. The display was intact, the game still running.
I glanced at my drink. Maybe they put something in it? Some kind of secret ingredient… or maybe I inhaled something and now I was hallucinating.
Looking around at the other customers, I sat back down. I didn't want to look insane. At the counter, there was just one customer and two baristas, calmly doing their jobs.
"And this is how people lose their minds…" I muttered, slowly pressing "ESC" to return to the game.
Everything was normal. No glitches or distortions.
For a moment, I held my breath and reached my hand toward the screen, stopping just a centimeter away, swallowing as my saliva turned thick.
My finger moved closer… and—
"I'm not going crazy… right?" I let out a nervous chuckle as my finger passed through the screen again, the strange distortions reappearing.
Only now, looking more closely, I noticed they weren't just on the screen—they seemed to exist over it. Multicolored static flowed across my finger, and it almost looked like it was glowing in every color of the rainbow.
"That's enough hot chocolate for today," I muttered, pulling my hand back and closing the laptop, putting it into my bag.
On my way back to the apartment, I kept glancing at my hand, trying to remember if someone could've slipped something into my drink. But drugs were supposed to feel… different, right? Dizziness, euphoria, increased heart rate, dilated pupils. None of that was there—except for the elevated pulse from nerves and overthinking.
"Oh, sorry…" I bumped into a red-haired woman, too lost in my thoughts to notice her.
"It's fine, but you should watch where you're going. Lots of homework?" she smirked, noticing the student ID on my clothes.
"Uh, yeah… something like that," I replied, catching a glimpse of what looked like a holster under her jacket—and again, the letters S.C.P.
But my thoughts were elsewhere. Maybe they were investigating something… government agents, who knows. Or terrorists…