The New End of The World

A Young Chemist's Birthday

        My name is Crys Glyphson, and I’ve just destroyed the world.

        That’s a bit sudden, I know, but it was going to be destroyed even if I didn’t contribute to it, so I guess it’s for the better that my friends and I got out alive. I also guess it’s for the better that we’re supposed to “give birth to a new universe” or something like that. We’re also all heroes or something like that. I don’t really know, all this is rather new and confusing, and frankly, I don’t know why I’m writing this. Probably to keep my own sanity than to keep a record, but that works too. Let me think of a good place to start explaining all this.

        It was August 14th, and I’m not giving a year. It was my birthday, great day to cause Armageddon, right? Anyway, I turned 16 then, and I had just woken up. It was a normal August day where I live; hot, humid, and unbearable. It was also bright. I can’t stand brightness. I am so glad I have those curtains that practically absorb light. I’m getting off topic here. There were a few clouds in the sky, some dark ones of in the distance, and it looked like a promising day for rain.

        Waking up, I put on a pair of black jeans and my everyday shirt; a white long-sleeve with an Erlenmeyer flask on the front, at about a 45-degree angle. You know, the round flask. The flask itself was just half-way filled with a blue liquid, kind of a pale blue. I looked around the dark room, and was glad to see the several fans all functioning properly. The door was closed, and the light was obviously off. I could still see decently though, thanks to acquired night-vision and the morning sun pouring in through the one, heavily covered window.

        Another quick look reminded me of my various interests. A large desk against the wall, as well as a large table in the center of the room, held many artifacts of interest. The room itself was also quite large, one of the benefits of having a mother who manages various businesses for a living. Another of those benefits is that she frankly doesn’t care all too much about my interests. As such, a large whiteboard covered the entire wall next to the desk. It was covered in various equations and chemical structures, as well as various shopping lists and other nonsense here and there. The table in the center was more of a workstation, with large cabinets underneath, mostly filled with dangerous and highly illegal chemicals. The surface of the table itself was actually empty, save for a few beakers and burners. On the desk was my computer, a few decks of cards, and a sketchbook. The sketchbook was filled with mostly designs for things of my own imagination. Redesigns of units from my favorite card-game, chimeras of different animal compositions, weapons, and mechs.

        Speaking of weapons, mine sat in the corner with the rest of my arsenal. I owned plenty of the goddamn things; swords, axes, some rifles, lances, all in appropriate racks and such. My favorite, however, happened to simply be hanging from a hook. Yes, the frying pan was a magnificent tool of destruction, or at least so I’m inclined to believe. It simply hung there at the moment, motionless. I was hoping that I would get a new one for my birthday, or at least get the proper materials to create a new one. I was also wondering if I would have to use it in a legitimate combat situation.

        Now we’re getting back to my interests. Namely my computer and its contents. On the desktop were a few applications to indulge me in my poor spriting abilities, a communication service called “DigiPigeon”, the popular gaming app, Steam, the Echidna browser, and a few other things. I still don’t know why that browser’s installed. My DarkNight browser is honestly so much better. Echidna probably just came preinstalled onto the computer anyway.

        I’ve remembered exactly what my room is like now, so I stumble over to my bedside trunk and hastily put on a pair of shoes. They’re simple, and black, what else could I want from my shoes? I considered slipping on my lab coat, which was hanging from a hook on the door, but decided against it for now, instead deciding to captchalouge it. I forgot how much of a doozy using my sylladex was. It’s basically a glorified method of storing objects, but it’s more convenient than carrying them around.