[ WP ] You 're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions ! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone . One day , on your screen , you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure .

Magda strolled aimlessly down South Congress Avenue towards the university. It was a pleasant night, with the sounds of the river behind her muffled by the buildings. Each of them was mostly empty, of course, except for the buzzing flies and rats and roaches that had been happily feeding the last two months. Every so often a cat or dog would pop out and jog across the street, heading off to who-knows-where to try to make a go of it. 
 
 Most would n't make it, of course. Only the survivors. The ones with enough wits, luck, or some combination of the two to find food and water and stay out of the heat. 
 
 *Like me, I guess*, Magda sighed to herself. 
 
 Cat and dog corpses littered the sidewalks, too, around the piles of putrid flesh and bones that had once been the hipsters and college students of this trendy neighborhood in Austin. Magda was glad that the heat had baked them so thoroughly - in the first two weeks the smell had been unbearable, but they were starting to dessicate now, or maybe her nose was just getting used to it. 
 
 \*Ding! \* went her phone, and she looked down. Another damn pidgey. How was it possible that in the aftermath of 7 billion deaths there was still nothing better out there than pidgeys and rattatas? You'd think someone's dying action would have been to fix the balance. 
 
 Nonetheless, she threw a desultory pokeball at what had to be her two or three thousandth stupid bird. A few happy sounds and animations later, she went straight to the `` transfer'' button and kicked him out. Out of her game, and out of the shambles that was her life. 
 
 There was nobody left anymore. By now Magda was sure of that - she'd tried calling her friends, what family she had left, and none had answered. None had called back. There were no news anchors, no breathless hyperbolic blog posts, nothing on twitter. There was just silence. Every now and again she'd have an image of a ghost, passing in front of her vision, or a voice, hollow and distant. They were always sad, and now Magda let them be. And so, from her periphery they would come, and be ignored, and return to whatever nothingness they came from. 
 
 \*Ding! \* again. A horsea? Well, that was better than noth... 
 
 Wait. 
 
 Magda had to shake her head, because the cobwebs had obviously not taken over like she thought. Up ahead, a little blue box was spinning peacefully on a thin little stick - and surrounded by flower petals and hearts. 
 
 `` A *lure? *'' Magda shouted. Here? Who set it up? Was there someone else out there, lonely and bored and somehow still playing this damnable game? 
 
 She set off at a jog, which turned into a trot, and then into a full-out run. She pelted down the street, leaping over the bodies of people she never knew and never would, and skidded to a halt in front of a coffee shop. The doors were open, because some poor sod had fallen over dead in the jamb. Magda wrenched the door open and the smell of curdled milk and rotting meat accosted her. No matter! There was someone here! 
 
 `` Hello! I'm here! I'm here!'' she called out. Another \*Ding! \* and a scyther appeared on her screen. She took note of it just long enough to realize she should ignore it. Someone was here! But where? 
 
 `` Hello!'' she called again. She waited. No shouts, no whoops, no... nothing. 
 
 She bolted back out the door. `` Hey! Where are you?'' she hollered. `` Somebody! Are you there?'' 
 
 Only an echo of her voice. She tried once more: `` You're here! I know you're here! I know! I know! God dammit where are you?'' She screamed wordlessly, her voice - so unused in the last few months - tearing at her throat, all of the loneliness and anger and despair welling out of her, released in one keening wail as she collapsed onto her knees on the sidewalk. 
 
 Some time later - she did n't know how long - she realized the rough surface of the sidewalk was digging into her knees. She must have torn her jeans as she fell. Tears had streamed down her face and onto her chest, staining her shirt. She did n't remember crying, but there they were. She scootched onto her backside and looked again at the screen. It must have been a mistake. A server error off in Japan or Korea or wherever. 
 
 The petals still rained down. Magda watched for a minute. The petals stopped. 
 
 And then they started up again. 
 
 \*Ding! \* Pinsir. \*Ding! \* Geodude. \*Ding! \* \*Ding! \* \*Ding! \* 
 
 Finally, Magda realized. The lure was a subscription. It was there to bring business to this stupid coffee shop with the rotten beans and the moldy muffins. The dead bastards in there had probably been drawn by the lure the same way she had, but that was back when there were still living and breathing people to talk to. 
 
 A voice ghosted in her ear, just on the edge of hearing. `` Magda,'' it said. `` Magda. I hope you like my storiesssssss.....'' 
 
 Magda brushed it away. There was a tightness in her chest. *Must be from all the crying* she thought. But it was getting hard to breathe. She tried again, and it hitched. She... she could n't... why was it dark? *It's too early for this! * She was starting to get scared. Again, she tried to take a breath, to calm, but it got stuck. Her chest would n't expand. The air would n't come! What was wrong? Was this it? Was this what happened to everyone else? 
 
 Fear gripped Magda. `` I want to live!'' she gasped out. She tried, to no avail, to pull in air. The sweet, rancid, death-stained air that would keep her alive. But it would n't come. She sucked and it was worthless, an impotent gasp that did nothing. `` I... I just... a dragonite... a... blurbbbl... a...'' 
 
 Magda fell over and was still. A hound, tongue lolling out, came over and sniffed. 
 
 \*Ding! \* 
 
 Years later, when he was being put to death for his crimes, Brian Sewaten was asked if he would like to give a final statement, an account of his actions before he went to meet whatever god would accept his soul. He sniffed for a moment, and then he finally said, `` They were all in comas. Nobody would miss them. I tell them a little story and then I pull the plug. And they die. Happy, maybe, but I do n't know. It's not like they were going to wake up anyway.''
