Socks of various colors, indiscriminately strewn around the living room, lay rumpled and undisturbed until Cedar began gathering them one by one, depositing each into a laundry basket.

  "You don't need to clean up," Nachi commented, observing Cedar's efforts at tidying.

  "Yeah, well, it's my way of preparing for the reckoning," she replied.

  "There won't be a reckoning," Everly stated, dusting off a corner of the couch before sitting down.

  "Everly, I know you might not want to, but . . . " Cedar hesitated, gauging Everly's mood. "Can you please prick yourself?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "With the pin. To see if we're in the real world or not."

  "We're definitely in the real world," Everly replied. "I just came from my condo. How could you possibly know what my condo looks like? And I talked with people who only know, not you."

  "I know but . . . "

  "But nothing. There's no way my personal information could be stored in your subconscious. We're back, Cedar. Face it. You've failed."

  "I haven't failed yet, we still have time. I can go back into the program and actually ascend this time."

  Everly rolled her eyes.

  "What?" Cedar asked.

  "It's our only shot," Nachi interjected. "I, for one, am not giving up."

  "He could have been messing with us this whole time," Everly pointed out. "He's after-all."

  Cedar understood immediately who Everly was referring to. The thought that Ari might be nothing more than a charlatan had never crossed her mind. The notion of him being a mere trickster, a bored entity seeking amusement, seemed far-fetched. She wondered what had led Everly to harbor such suspicions.

  "Even if he a fraud, we need to go back in. We can’t risk it. We’re taking about the whole goddamned universe here.” Cedar couldn’t hide her frustration. Everly’s apathy both irked and alarmed her.

  Everly sighed, her gaze fixed on something in the distance. "Do what you want. If the universe ends, it's not like we'll know it. We'll cease to exist. We won't feel a thing."

  Everly's usual flat tone was tinged with a hint of sadness and resignation, signaling her surrender to despair. Both Nachi and Cedar responded simultaneously, their voices overlapping as if trying to dissuade a suicidal patient from jumping.

  "Don't say that," implored Nachi.

  "You're seriously giving up? After everything we've been through?" Cedar challenged.

  "What's it all for?" Everly asked, her voice laden with defeat.

  "This isn't you," said Nachi. "You don't sound like the Everly I know."

  "And you feel something," Cedar corrected. "The universe won't end right away. First, there will be anarchy, then war, millions will suffer and die . . . "

  Everly let out another sigh. "Okay, okay, what's the plan?"

  "You're asking ?" Cedar replied, taken aback.

  "You're usually the one with the ideas," said Nachi. "We were hoping you'd tell ."

  Everly stroked the armrest of the couch as if it were a pet before responding, "If you want to get arrested, the easiest way is to rob the bank again." She shrugged, not giving it much thought. "Getting sent back to rehab is simple. It's the ascending part that I'm not sold on."

  "Okay, we'll do that," Nachi declared, springing to his feet. "We need to act fast."

  Everly stood as well and slung her shoulder bag around her.

  Cedar, positioning herself in front of the door, blocked their exit. "Wait, that's it? We're just going to dive in without any strategy or anything?"

  Nachi paused in front of Cedar. "It's easy. Just go up to the teller and say, 'give me the money, bitch'."

  Everly laughed. "Oh, you're threatening."

  "I try to tone it down, you know, so I don't scare off the ladies."

  "I don't think you need to worry about that," Everly snickered.

  Nachi and Everly walked outside, leaving the door ajar behind them.

  "We'll see you in a little bit," Nachi called out over his shoulder.

  , thought Cedar.

  Before leaving the house, Cedar paused to look at herself in the mirror. To her amazement, she realized she was still clad in the same pajamas from the night before—the night it all began. She sniffed her armpit, somewhat astonished that Everly hadn't mentioned her unchanged attire. At the very least, she thought, she could change her underwear.

  A part of Cedar didn't want to shed her pajamas. They held nostalgic value, reminiscent of a simpler time when life made sense and she was at her happiest. Wearing them made her feel as though the essence of who she was remained intact. She was still Cedar, and she would always be Cedar—even after the loss of her ego, whether or not she ascends.

  As she thought about this, which she knew she didn't have time for, she gleaned the idea that her ego won't actually disappear but instead, expand. Pushing that thought aside, she grabbed her car keys from the hook and left her apartment, still in her pajamas.

  Settling behind the wheel of her car, by habit, she glanced at herself in the rearview mirror, noticing the tangled stew of hair atop her head. Not only had she neglected to change her underwear, but she hadn't even bothered to comb through her greasy locks. Thoughts of the retreat and Nozomi came to surface.

  She shifted her car into gear and began driving towards the bank, her finger absentmindedly tracing the spot on her temple where Nozomi had installed the makeshift interface. The smoothness of her skin felt naked without the familiar presence of the small technological bump.

  She pulled into Hyperion's parking lot and switched off the engine.

  Cedar's anxiety wasn't born out of fear; rather, it stemmed from the thrill of embarking on something new and audacious. Adrenaline surged through her arteries as she grappled with her conscience. Brain fog hit her upon opening her car door, stepping out on wobbly legs. She couldn't think straight.

  Cedar burst through the bank doors, half-expecting to be confronted by guards or a SWAT team, but no one batted an eye. The other patrons carried on with their business, save for a blue-haired woman in line who clutched her large purse. She gave Cedar a brief glance, then haughtily turned her gaze to the ceiling with a stiff sniff.

  It was just another regular day at the bank.

  Cedar joined the queue and waited her turn. The blue-haired woman in front was inquiring with the teller about converting her reward points into dollars to pay a bill.

  "You can do it through our app. Do you have your phone with you?" the teller asked the woman.

  "Ma'am?" called the next available teller, directing her attention to Cedar.

  "No, I only brought my watch with me . . . " the blue-haired woman continued her conversation.

  The open bank teller cleared her throat and said with a smile, "I can help you over here, Miss?"

  "Oh, right," Cedar replied, making her way to the front of the line.

  "How can I help you today?"

  "I want to . . . give me the money." For a moment Cedar had forgotten why she was there.

  "Do you have your debit card with you? Or I can look up your account with some identification."

  "Forget that. I want the money. Give me the money . . . bitch." Cedar winced as she uttered the last word. It didn't sound natural or even remotely threatening. She thought Nachi had sounded far more intimidating than she did.

  "I'm robbing you. This is a robbery," Cedar clarified.

  A look of comprehension crossed the bank teller's face. "I see," she responded.

  Cedar leaned in over the counter. "So, just hit that fancy little panic-button under your desk for me, okay? And all this will be . . . "

  Just then, everybody's cell phones erupted in unison with a loud, piercing siren—the kind reserved for state and national emergencies. Cedar swiveled her head to see everybody checking their phones. A person nearby cried out a ghastly, "Oh, god," which caused others who had simply silenced the alert, to actually look at the notification.

  The blue-haired woman's handbag fell open, scattering its contents across the floor. No one moved to help her, instead, they rushed towards the exit, pushing and shoving in a frantic bid to leave. The blue-haired woman squinted at her watch, then down at her belongings on the floor, and back to her watch again, clearly torn about where to focus her attention.

  "Please tell me young lady, what does this say?" the blue-haired woman asked, turning to the confused teller for help.

  "May I?" the teller responded, extending her hand.

  Carefully, she took the blue-haired woman's delicate wrist to bring the watch closer for a better look. She read the announcement silently first, then her eyes widened in fear, and her chin quivered as she prepared to speak.

  "Well? What's it say?"

  "The sun . . . the sun is falling!" the teller's voice involuntarily rose, her words bursting out like a pressurized geyser.

  Cedar, turning back to her own teller, found her looking as though she was ready to flee. "I'm robbing you," Cedar reminded. "Press the button under the desk."

  "Are you freaking crazy? Didn't you hear?" In a state of panic, the teller flung open all the bank drawers for Cedar, then ran out from behind her station and out the door.

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  Outside, a crowd had formed, each person gazing upward at the sky.

  Cedar couldn't understand her own lack of reaction. Did she not believe the news? She made her way outside, bumping against people who were busy looking up rather than keeping out of her way.

  A hot breeze wafted against her face as she peered up to the sky. The sun, usually no bigger than a dime, now appeared larger, almost the size of a quarter. Panic was palpable around her, screams filled the air, then sirens.

  Still, Cedar remained detached. It didn't make sense. This wasn't supposed to happen, it happen. This realization brought her back to her initial doubt:

  She reached for her phone only to remember that she had left it at home.

  Cedar returned to her car and drove the two minutes back to her apartment. Upon opening the front door, the blaring sound of the emergency siren from her cell phone greeted her, intermittently punctuated by the regular chimes of incoming calls. She silenced the alarm and pressed the button to answer.

  "Hello?"

  "Oh my god did you hear? The sun is going to kill us!" It was her childhood best friend, Stephanie. Cedar felt a sense of significance—out of everyone Stephanie could have called, she chose Cedar to be her first.

  "Steph, it's going to be okay. It's not real."

  "Not real?" Stephanie echoed. "You mean it's a hoax? Please tell me this is a hoax."

  "It's a hoax. We're not going to die. But I need to go, I'm going to fix this, okay? I have to hang up now. I'm sorry." Cedar ended the call while Stephanie was still speaking. No sooner had she hung up, her phone rang again—this time, it was her parents.

  A cacophony of noise erupted from outside. Cedar peered out the window to witness her neighbors hastily leaving, their cars scraping against each other in a clumsy, desperate bid to exit the parking lot.

  Turning back to her phone, she declined the incoming call from her parents. "Sorry Mom and Pop."

  Maybe they had tried to reach her while she was at the bank. Attempting to scroll through her missed calls proved challenging as she continuously had to decline calls from her parents, one from her brother, and another from Stephanie. It was impossible to check her missed calls while her phone was incessantly ringing.

  At last, the name Nachiket Joshi appeared on her phone's screen, indicating he was calling her. She quickly answered it.

  "Nachi, thank god it's you. This can't be real, I must still be dreaming."

  "But it to be real. I'm not in your subconscious anymore. I got out when the bear attacked, remember?"

  "I understand that. Do you have Everly's number? Where are you?"

  "This isn't supposed to happen."

  "I know, Nachi, I need you to focus. Can you please give me Everly's number?" Cedar heard some rustling on the other end of the line before Nachi responded.

  "It's 860-555-2106."

  "Thanks. I'm going to call her now. Do you want to meet at my place, or . . . "

  "I don't know. I guess so. I'm pulled over right now so . . . "

  "Get your ass over here. Everything will be okay."

  Cedar ended the call with Nachi, not bothering with a goodbye, and dialed Everly. Despite Everly's self-righteous and know-it-all attitude, Cedar knew she was the only one who could make sense of the situation. Everly always seemed to have a logical solution and, more importantly, she was the one person who could confirm whether Cedar was still dreaming.

  "Hello?" Everly answered, her voice laced with impatience.

  "Everly, I need you to prick yourself. You to."

  "This can't be happening—we must still be in your head."

  "Yes, I know!" Cedar felt a surge of gratitude knowing Everly shared her perspective. "Prick yourself so we can know for sure."

  "I don't want to leave yet, let's wait for Ari to show up. I can't believe he abandoned of us," Everly replied.

  "Who care's about Ari right now? He'll most likely show up when the sun hits. I just want to know what we should be doing right now. If this is real, I need to get back in the program to save the world. If this isn't real, then we can relax until the damn thing is over with. You know what I'm saying?"

  "Yes, I know all this,” Everly responded.

  "So, what's the hold-up?"

  "The hold-up is . . . " Cedar detected the familiar condescending tone in Everly's voice, a sign that her friend was back to her usual self, no longer subdued or welcoming death. This familiar tone, as irritating as it sometimes was, comforted Cedar. "I'm the only one who can put you back in the program. When the sun hits, you'll most likely wake up in the real world without having ascended. You need to be put under either way. Whether this is real or not, you need to go back in."

  "You're right," Cedar conceded. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of that. “Meet me at the rehab center so you can put me back in the program," she said, waiting for Everly's reply. Hearing no immediate response, she added, "Ari can meet us there if he ever decides to show up."

  "I'm here already. Come quick.” The line went dead as Everly hung up.

  Cedar was back in her car moments later, foregoing the usual glance in the rearview mirror. Her appearance was the least of her worries now. She scrolled through her recent calls and dialed Nachi.

  "Um . . . hello?"

  "Nachi, we're meeting at the rehab center."

  "I'm not coming," he said, his voice tinged with guilt.

  "What? Why?"

  "I'm going home to be with my family. You don't need me there, I'll only get in the way."

  "No, Nachi, what are you talking about? Of course we need you," Cedar insisted as she navigated her car into the slow moving traffic.

  "I think this is really happening," said Nachi. "In fact, I this is really happening."

  "That's all the more reason for you to help us," Cedar pleaded. "Once I get my powers, I might be able to stop this from happening."

  "No offense, Cedar, but I don't think it'll make any difference whether you go back into the program or not."

  "You're giving up ?"

  "I'm not giving up, but . . . " Cedar could sense his unease. "Even if you ascend, how will you stop the sun from expanding? I've been listening to the news. This was inevitable. We were only off by a billion years, but this was bound to happen."

  "Do you hear yourself right now? What, you think all this is just a coincidence?"

  "How could you stop it, though?"

  Just then, a car pushed past Cedar, its horn blaring as it scraped against her car, causing a sharp jolt.

  "Cedar?"

  "I'm okay, just got hit by some ASSHOLE," she yelled out her window at the driver. "Nachi, I'm headed to the rehab center. You need to decide—either pull yourself together and meet us there, or . . . " She hesitated, knowing that staying with family didn't signify cowardice, but love. " . . . the world needs you, but if you want to stay home, then stay home."

  After ending the call, Cedar realized that her car wasn't moving. The one main road in Cheshire was at a standstill. She got out of the car, leaving it in the midst of the chaotic traffic, and sprinted back to her house for her electric bicycle. Despite having bought it seven years prior with the intention of frequent use, this was going to be her fifth time riding it.

  Cedar was out of breath when she reached her house. She could feel the sun beating down on her head as she typed in the code to open the garage door. With a swing of her leg, she mounted her dusty electric bike.

  A flip of a switch and a turn of the key later, she sped out of her driveway. Within minutes, she sailed past the same driver who had hit her earlier. His vehicle was now stuck in traffic, immobile from all sides.

  "Idiot," Cedar scoffed, her focus more on her disdain than her path. This momentary distraction led to her bashing her head against a street sign.

  With her nose now gushing blood, she managed to get herself back on her bicycle, making a point not to look back at the man who had rammed into her.

  The rehab center was located just down the street, past the convalescent home and across from the graveyard. Cedar had always found the layout of this street darkly humorous. A progression of life stages seemed to unfold along it: a preschool next to an elementary school, followed by the prison rehabilitation center, the convalescent home, and finally, the graveyard. It was a linear representation of life's major milestones, lined up in their expected order. Whenever she pointed out this morbid sequence to others, few found it as amusing as she did.

  Grateful for her electric bike, Cedar turned left and coasted up the hill to the old prison, the motor doing most of the work. The air grew hotter with each passing moment, and she noticed her tires sticking to the asphalt, which was starting to haze from the intense heat. The sound of the tires pulling away from the sticky surface sounded like someone ripping fabric.

  Cedar surmised that Everly must have headed straight to the prison after leaving her house. It was a logical move, considering that Everly would have had to go there anyway once Cedar got herself arrested. She didn't expect Nachi to be there, and she couldn't fault him for it. Now, it seemed, everything boiled down to her and Everly.

  The old prison, about three hundred yards up the road, loomed into view. It had housed hundreds of inmates until a few month ago when the government transitioned to the virtual rehabilitation program. Cedar felt fortunate that Cheshire had its own prison rehab clinic—the next nearest one was in New Haven, a good twenty miles away.

  As she approached the building, Cedar recalled the layout: the juvenile detention center was through the entrance on the left, while the right entrance was for adults. It was the same door she had exited from earlier that day.

  Cedar left her bike toppled over by the entrance and entered the stark, fortified building. She texted Everly to tell her that she was there.

  Cedar took a moment to look around. The place appeared deserted. A spilled cup of coffee and a pile of papers, stained brown, were strewn across the floor. The only sound was that of an old rotary fan.

  "This way," Everly appeared in the hallway, motioning Cedar to follow. "We have to be quick. It's getting hotter by the minute."

  "I know," Cedar responded. "It’s really heating up in here."

  Everly led Cedar down the hall and through a maze of corridors. "This room."

  Cedar peered inside the room. "Looks just like the one I was in before."

  "That's because it is. Sit."

  Cedar sat.

  The machine sprang to life with a loud whir as Everly turned it on, filling the room with its mechanical hum.

  "I don't understand how this is happening," said Cedar.

  "No time for talk," Everly spat, her focus on the machine as she inspected its controls. She pressed a button, causing the dome-shaped headgear to lower onto Cedar's head.

  Cedar felt a wave of heat envelop her head, prompting her to start panting in short, rapid breaths. A fan kicked on to cool the machine, provoking a calm in Cedar.

  "It's getting hot," Cedar remarked.

  Everly, absorbed in her task, didn't respond. She was busy checking items off on a clipboard. Something on the clipboard caused Everly to jump into hyperdrive. She placed the clipboard down and rummaged in the cabinets and drawers until she found what she was she was looking for.

  "I need to inject you," she said, holding a syringe.

  "With what?"

  "Does it matter? It's a hallucinogenic cocktail."

  "Okay, hurry."

  As Cedar sat on the metal chair, her skin began to burn from the searing metal.

  Everly, with a sense of urgency, filled the hypodermic needle from a small vial. She tapped its side and squeezed the end to expel any air bubbles. Bending over, she injected Cedar in the arm but stumbled as she stood back up.

  "Careful," Cedar cautioned.

  "I got lightheaded. I'm okay," Everly responded, steadying herself. "You need electrodes. These," she said, picking up a bunch of cords already connected to the machine. Each cord ended with a round, sticky plate. Cedar guessed that Everly had prepared the machine as best she could before Cedar arrived.

  "Stick 'em on me."

  Everly began attaching the electrodes to Cedar's sweaty skin, starting with her temples.

  "They won't stick. You're too wet," Everly noted, maintaining her composure.

  Cedar wiped her face with the front of her pajama shirt. "Try now."

  With Cedar's face now drier, Everly continued placing the electrodes, securing four on each temple. She pressed them hard against Cedar's skin to ensure they held. Cedar kept still, grimacing at the pain while she pushed against Everly's fingers to keep her head straight.

  Everly wiped the back of Cedar's neck with her damp pajama shirt. The additional heat from Everly's proximity made Cedar feel even more overheated and slightly claustrophobic. Everly then placed two electrodes on each side of Cedar's neck, with the last ones being affixed to her chest.

  She stepped back, her movements labored, and reached behind her for the clipboard. Noticing Everly's struggle to maintain her balance, Cedar nudged a stool towards her with her foot.

  "Here. Sit."

  Everly sat and looked over the clipboard while reaching in her pocket for a remote.

  Cedar, feeling an intense sensation on her face, wasn't sure if it was the heat or the effects of the drugs, but it felt as though her face was trying to pry itself off her skull.

  "Ready?" Everly asked, her finger poised over a red button on the remote. She pressed it before Cedar had time to respond.

  Cedar closed her eyes and waited. She could hear Everly press the button again and again.

  "Are you still here?" Everly asked.

  "Still here."

  Everly continued to press the button while inspecting the machine.

  Cedar's head lolled to one side. Her eyes, heavy and drowsy, caught sight of the missing piece that slung beside her, dangling from a hook. "The necklace . . . "

  "Necklace? The necklace!" Everly's voice tinged with sudden realization. "It's too late."

  "What's too late?"

  "The necklace . . . it had to go on over your head."

  "It's not too late."

  Everly slipped the necklace over Cedar's bowed head, maneuvering around the electrodes, which she had to unstick and then reapply.

  During this process, Cedar became aware of the machine's cooling system growing louder and more strained. Again, not knowing if it was the drugs or the heat, the machine sounded like it would explode at any moment.

  As Everly pressed the button one final time, a spark flew from the remote, coinciding with the sudden halt of the machine's blaring fan, which emitted a smoky hiss as it died. Everything went dark.

  "No, no, no," Everly muttered, repeatedly pressing the now unresponsive button. Its once glowing red light had faded to a lifeless matte grey.

  Cedar, struggling to keep her eyes open, understood the gravity of their situation. "It's over," she said quietly.

  "We can't just sit here and bake to death," Everly exclaimed.

  "No, we can't. Let's go outside."

  "Are you crazy?"

  "It's better to be flash-fried rather than a slow burn,” Cedar said as she removed the electrodes and extricated herself from under the dome. She collapsed to the floor when she attempted to stand.

  Everly steadied Cedar, helping her up, and together they navigated through the darkened corridors, devoid of electricity. The contrast was startling as they turned into the lobby, the brightness of the sun forced them to shield their eyes.

  An explosion resounded as a wayward solar flare struck earth. Visible through the windows, they watched as flames licked at the trees.

  "The pin, Everly, use the pin."

  Everly's eyes widened. "You want me to leave you?"

  Cedar hesitated, realizing to her own surprise that she didn't want Everly to go.

  "I'm not going to," Everly declared, adjusting Cedar's arm over her shoulder for better support. "You'll just have to put up with me a little longer."

  "Why? I treat you like shit," Cedar admitted with sweat and tears streaming down her face.

  "I treat like shit," Everly confessed.

  In that moment, the fear, tension, and desperation gave way to a shared, albeit brief, moment of levity.

  A Race Against the SunThey stepped forward, moving through the revolving door of the building and into a world they no longer recognized.