Obliterate Everything 4 -

I erased my wedding. My husband is sitting next to me. He doesn't remember it. PLAYER_442: I erased my suicide attempt. Now I don't know if I'm alive because I chose to be, or because I erased the version where I didn't. PLAYER_103: I erased my daughter's first word. She said "mama" again this morning. It felt different. Worse. Better? PLAYER_990: Has anyone figured out how to win? PLAYER_442: There is no win. There's only how much you're willing to lose.

And that was the game. For the first hour, I moved through the shard-windows, obliterating. A police station. A wedding. A coral reef. A rocket on a launchpad. A courtroom. A birthday party (children's silhouettes, smaller). Each time, the gray cube. Each time, the flat voice. obliterate everything 4

The kitchen didn't explode. It un-existed . The refrigerator didn't burst into flames—it simply stopped being a refrigerator. The geometry collapsed inward, colors inverted to negative for a frame, then everything became a smooth, featureless gray cube where the kitchen had been. A sound like a held breath being released. I erased my wedding

New windows appeared. Not scenes— other players . Dozens of them, each in their own gray cube, each staring back at me through their own webcams. They were all ages, all over the world. Some were crying. Some were laughing. One was very calmly eating a sandwich. PLAYER_442: I erased my suicide attempt