The Filtered Earth

0: Change

The change happens after midnight.

A cold wind moans through the trees, dislodging stubborn leaves, sending them spiraling downward. They come to rest against a green house. Looking again, the color is gone—the pile of leaves, and the house, are gray.

Inside, a man tosses in bed as his dream takes an unexpected turn. Others in houses miles away, don't fare as well—they vanish quietly, warm bodies winking out of existence without a gasp or sigh.

A spider, bundled in her web in the ceiling corner of the room. One moment she’s there, tiny hairs on her legs standing on end—next she's flickering. For one dot of spacetime, the spider exists and doesn’t. Then she's gone, never was, web in the ceiling corner never woven.