“That’s unfortunate,” Joaquin says with all the earnestness in the world. He can’t imagine his life without Naya. Especially losing her so violently. “I’m curious. Was it Valentino Prince who died? He was tonight’s first call.”
“No. His name was William Wilde.”
Ah, shame. Joaquin would’ve liked to include that anecdote in his memoir. But back to the matter at hand. “Does the client understand we’ve done all we can?”
“Except we didn’t.”
“Pardon me?”
“We failed to do our one job. The Decker never received his End Day call.”
“Well, the Times Square shootings began after midnight—after launch. We’ve never made any promises that Deckers will immediately be alerted.”
“Which I explained, but the woman said her boyfriend’s phone never rang. Not even after our calls were completed on the East Coast. I checked our records, and we have no outgoing calls to the Decker’s number or the emergency contact.”
As they all reenter the call center, Joaquin observes his heralds hard at work. He zeroes in on Rolando, suspecting he’s to blame for this Decker not being notified of his death; probably absorbing another old man’s life story. That egregious failing will result in his immediate termination.
“Is it Rolando’s fault? Did he not reach out to the Decker in time?”
“I checked in with all the heralds, and while Andrea totally assisted Rolando with his contact list after completing her own, every registered user on the East Coast received their End Day call.”
“Except that poor man,” Naya says, grieving this stranger with her big heart.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Rosa,” Aster says. “But since the Decker never appeared in our system for today, could that mean—”
He holds up a hand, silencing her. He doesn’t want to alarm anyone else.
But it’s too late.
“What’s wrong, Papa?” Alano asks, staring up at his father with tired eyes.
Joaquin won’t admit that everything is wrong.
How his empire is falling on the day it was set to rise.
How all will be lost if he doesn’t discover the source of this error.
How there are currently Deckers roaming the country, unaware that it’s their End Day.
PART THREE
The Firsts
Death-Cast is here for you.
—Joaquin Rosa, creator of Death-Cast
William Wilde
（Deceased）
Death-Cast was supposed to call William Wilde to tell him he’s going to die today.
This evening, William and his girlfriend of five years, Christi, left their one-bedroom apartment in downtown Brooklyn and rode the train to Manhattan to be among the partyers in Times Square for the launch of Death-Cast. William, a celebrated photographer, wanted to capture this historic event on camera, turning down many offers to do so for magazines. But seeing as he was already set to work the next morning, William wanted to do something for himself, for his own private collection. Especially on a night that was going to be extra memorable by having Christi tagging along.
By that, he meant setting his camera on a timer and capturing the moment he proposed.
Not getting shot.
The gunman was wearing a skull mask and muttering about the end of the world before senselessly firing into the crowd, that first bullet striking William in his throat.
His dreams of receiving an End Day call with Christi as an ancient couple surrounded by children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren were over.