Before the incident.
Beep!
Beep!
Beep!
Tap.
Sou slapped the screen and silenced it.
"Arghh—FUUUDGEE—!" He shot up from his chair, arms stretched wide. "Finally. Time to clock out of this stupid job."
He grabbed his stuff, clocked out, and walked out of the building without looking back once.
The parking area was quiet, evening air hitting him as he pushed through the door. He rolled his neck, exhaled, and started walking toward his motorcycle.
Then his stomach talked.
What to eat…
He reached into his bag mid-walk and pulled out his wallet. Flipped it open.
Took a peek.
His wallet screamed broke.
"Urgggg—" He let his head drop back, eyes to the sky, the full weight of a broke man after a long shift settling onto his shoulders.
Then from across the parking lot—
"SOUUUU—!"
He turned around.
A group of his coworkers were waving at him from the building entrance, jackets on, clearly heading out.
"We're eating outside! Wanna join?"
Sou opened his mouth. Closed it. Glanced at his wallet still in his hand.
"Err… I'll pass for now. Gotta take care of my little brothers today."
"Aww, I see." One of them waved him off. "Join us next time okay!"
"Yeah yeah, next time for sure."
They waved. He waved back. The group disappeared around the corner, voices fading.
"…I live alone though." He snorted quietly to himself. "Kekek."
He tucked his wallet back into his bag and shuffled over to his motorcycle parked at the far end of the lot.
The thing had seen better days—way better days.
He swung a leg over, settled in, and turned the key.
Nothing.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
Again.
The engine sputtered. Coughed. Went quiet.
"Come on—"
Again.
After a solid minute of coaxing, threatening, and one firm smack to the handlebar — it finally turned over, rumbling to life beneath him.
Sou exhaled.
"Fuuuuuck this broke ass phase of life." He pulled out of the lot, merging onto the road. "Fuck this economy. Once I earn enough I'm buying anything I want. Anything."
The city lights blurred past him as he rode home.
He headed home.
A fifth floor apartment—an old ass building.
He lived on the top floor, sandwiched between two neighbors on either side.
He pushed through the front entrance and started up the stairs.
On the way up he passed one of his neighbors heading down, both of them exchanging a single nod without breaking stride.
He reached his floor, fished out his keys, and let himself in.
Dropped his bag by the door.
Kicked his shoes off.
Didn't even bother with the lights.
He walked straight to his bed, fell face first onto it, and was out before he could think about dinner.
On the far side of the earth's atmosphere—
A young woman was exploring what seemed to be a workplace.
White. Futuristic. Lights pulsing soft along the walls, steady and quiet.
Nothing about it looked anything like earth.
[Welcome, Earth's New Administrator]
A UI popped up right in front of her face.
She glanced at it, then kept walking, heading straight toward what looked like the main office.
She pushed the door open.
Dust… Everywhere.
"Cough— cough—" She waved a hand in front of her face.
[We're very sorry for the inconvenience. Earth hasn't had an administrator for nearly 600 years.]
"Cough—" She cleared her throat, squinting through the haze. "It's fine… it's fine." She pulled her sleeve over her hand and started wiping down the nearest surface. "I'll just clean it up."
She shrugged it off and headed straight toward the command panel room.
She pushed the door open and stopped.
The screen was still on.
She walked over slowly, eyes scanning. A bunch of tabs were open — research pages, documents, files. All of them about one thing.
Undeads.
She frowned. "What the helly—"
She sat down and pulled herself toward the panel, ready to get to work. First things first—she started closing the tabs one by one.
The last one shut.
And she was immediately greeted by dozens of files sitting right on the desktop. All of them undead related. Documents, images, research folders stacked on top of each other.
[The previous administrator truly loved the undead.]
"I can see that," she muttered. "What a weird fetish."
She selected everything and deleted it
She cracked her knuckles and pulled up the earth monitoring system.
The numbers loaded.
Her face dropped.
Global warming
Apparently it had been bad since the early mid 19th century and nobody had done a single thing about it.
She stared at the screen.
"…It's 2500." She looked up. "Where the hell is earth's god?"
[Taking a nap.]
She blinked. "…for that long?"
[Yes.]
"Fuuuh—" She leaned back in the chair and let out the longest sigh of her life.
She stared at the ceiling for a moment.
Then sat back up.
"Alright." She cracked her knuckles. "Let's see what else is broken."
She pulled up the full earth status report.
It loaded.
And loaded.
And kept loading.
The list was long. Very long.
Global warming—critical. Ocean levels—critical. Air quality—critical. Biodiversity—critical. She kept scrolling. Every single category had something red next to it.
She stopped scrolling.
"How is earth still alive right now?"
[Barely.]
She closed her eyes for a second, opened them, and got to work.
Boosting plant germination across the northern regions. Triggering rainfall cycles over the dried out areas. Replenishing soil nutrients. One thing at a time, pulling levers and adjusting sliders across the panel, the screen lighting up with activity.
After a while she sat back and took a slow breath.
"One step at a time…" she muttered to herself. "One… step… at a… time."
Whew.
[You need a coffee break.]
"Yeah… I might as well."
She pushed her chair back and walked over to the small station tucked just beside the main panel. A coffee machine sat there, surprisingly intact for something that hadn't been touched in centuries.
She looked at it.
Two buttons on the side.
She tapped the first one.
Nothing happened.
She tapped it again.
Still nothing.
She clicked her tongue and moved to the second button, pressing it once—nothing—so she pressed it again. And again. And again.
Five times total.
[Err… I have two pieces of news.]
"What is it?"
[One… the coffee machine isn't working.]
"Ohh, okay—"
[The other one… that second button is a Doomsday button. Created by the previous administrator.]
She froze.
"Do—DOOMSDAY?"
[It's fine. It has a built-in safety precaution. It only activates if you press it five times.]
A beat of silence.
[…how many times did you press it?]
"F-five…"
[FUCK! I mean—]
[We're screwed.]