“The world will burn,” she said, staring lazily out the window. Gladys talked as if the apocalypse was boring to her. Which I guess in some sense it was. You live through enough of them and they start to feel routine. I, on the other hand, was still awed by the majesty of it all. My people inhabited the last age so I was still very new to this “the experiment didn’t work try again” concept.

Gladys tucked her head down onto the green velvet couch. “How sad to think this all will go,” she murmured, petting the cushion. Her office was tidy but full. Bookshelves stretched floor to ceiling along the north wall full of works I recognized and many I didn’t; published in a range of ways: scrolls browned with age, bound tomes that were the literature of my era, little cubes that I had seen her touch to bring up lights that turned into words. Every age she went and collected all that she could find from the previous ones. It was a futile task, shrinking information every epoch that she tried. Enough to fill a bookshelf but the only remaining legacy from a whole world? Just for it to disappear at the end?

I was sitting on a jaunty wooden chair. One of Gladys’ life philosophies was “never get too comfortable.” And I can assure you I wasn’t. When I came under her tutelage I was apprenticed to a baker, a man in my village who woke up at 5 am every day to knead, and sweat, and feed people. I was used to dedicating my life to hard work. But I had no understanding of just how hard it would get. Once Gladys officially took me on and I started taking the medication, I realized how much of life passes you by while you’re stuck in your devotion to something.

A knock sounded at the door, “Chancellor, they’re ready for you,” Garbo announced from the other side. Gladys sighed and began to stand up. I helped her off the couch and tucked her arm in mine as we crossed the room. She patted my hand, “No crying this time perhaps,” she said. “I make no promises,” I answered.

We opened the door and exited to the exterior hallway. Grass waved from off the path. Gladys liked to be outside as much as possible given how much time we had to shelter after the apocalypse happens. We slowly moved from her rooms down the heathered hill and into the valley. The beacons were already lit as we descended. The advisors were already sitting hidden in the grass, their antlers visible in the fading sunlight. I guess you live through enough apocalypses and you get to show up right when everything starts. Garbo took Gladys’ arm from me and helped her into her cape.

I walked my way around the circle to the smooth round stone set for me. Gladys stood in the center and reached her hands to the sky.

“Oh Ancient Ones,” she began, “We beseech you, help us in our time of need.” The thunder started rolling, and the sky began to split. As a bolt of lightning shot down, Garbo leaned over from his smooth stone to me with tears rolling down my cheeks and said, “let the games begin.”