The advancement of science and technology had surged far past the expectations of the general public. Concepts that belonged strictly to the realm of science fiction mere decades ago had quietly become everyday reality.
Humanity's crowning achievement was the conquest of aging. While the current hard limit hovered around 120 years, life expectancy was rapidly approaching practical immortality. With death by natural causes effectively cured, the world had begun to look forward to a limitless, shining future.
That was, until they found the asteroid.
***
Smoke drifted from Kim Ki-woo's lips, dissolving into the crisp air. He stared blankly at the impossibly blue sky above. It felt like a mockery—a serene, perfect canopy suspended over a civilization waiting to be crushed.
Somewhere beyond that blue expanse, the colossal asteroid Narvas was hurtling toward Earth. In less than twenty-four hours, it would make impact.
Ki-woo ran the calculations in his head, though the conclusion was already a fixed certainty. The surface of the Earth would be completely sterilized. Survival for any biological organism left on the ground was a mathematical impossibility.
He harbored no grand, weeping despair, only a cold, bitter resentment at the timing. In just a few more decades, humanity might have become an interplanetary species. They might have possessed the orbital weaponry to shatter the rock. The technological singularity had been right in front of them, poised to spark an unprecedented scientific revolution.
But time, the ultimate arbiter, had denied them.
Ki-woo took another drag of his cigarette. The nicotine did nothing to ease the suffocating reality pressing down on his chest.
"I knew you'd be up here."
The voice behind him was raspy and familiar. Ki-woo didn't bother turning around.
"What are you doing out here? You don't even smoke."
"Just came to enjoy your miserable expression," Song Seong-jung replied.
"Bullshit. You're here because the preparations are done."
"Sharp as always. Let's go. The Director is waiting."
Ki-woo finally turned to face his colleague. Seong-jung was actually smiling—a fragile, hollow thing masking the abyss beneath. Seeing it prompted Ki-woo to speak without filtering his thoughts.
"Aren't you afraid?"
It was a taboo question. Within the research institute, voicing despair was an unspoken breach of protocol. Ki-woo felt a brief flicker of regret and opened his mouth to apologize.
"I'm terrified," Seong-jung said, cutting him off. His voice was entirely dry, as if he were discussing the weather rather than their imminent execution. "We finally beat death, only to be handed an expiration date. Who wouldn't be afraid? You know exactly how chaotic things are outside the institute right now."
Ki-woo remained silent. Panic had consumed the globe the moment the Narvas trajectory was leaked. The only ones with even a fractional chance of survival were the ultra-rich, fleeing into the void in prototype spacecraft. Even then, their odds in the frozen dark were abysmal.
"But fear has no utility right now," Seong-jung continued, his tone hardening. "We have to grasp at whatever is left. If you're mentally prepared, let's head down. I wasn't joking about the Director."
"…Understood."
Ki-woo knew the stakes. It was a desperate, final play with probabilities approaching zero. But he had no choice. It was the absolute maximum effort humanity could muster at the end of all things.
***
The mechanical hum of the activation sequence vibrated through Ki-woo's bones, echoing in his ears. His mouth was entirely dry.
—One minute to activation. Initiate final equipment check. The Director's voice carried smoothly over the intercom. Methodically, Ki-woo verified his gear. Tactical clothing, reinforced safety boots, high-altitude goggles, survival pack, and the parachute strapped tightly to his back. He checked the harnesses for the tenth time. Flawless.
"All systems green," Ki-woo confirmed.
There was no abort protocol. Once energy flooded the experimental temporal displacement engine, the chamber would seal. There was no going back. To survive, Ki-woo had to successfully warp into Earth's atmosphere at an undetermined point in the distant past.
If the calculations were even slightly off, he would die instantly. The project was built on unproven, theoretical physics. It was a gamble bought with astronomical funding and the lives of the ten volunteers, himself included. Without the impending apocalypse, testing this theory would have taken centuries of careful refinement.
There was no guarantee he would travel backward in time, and even if he did, the Earth was a moving target in a vast universe. The most likely outcome was materializing in the vacuum of space. If he did hit Earth, he risked being entombed in solid rock or drowning in an ancient ocean.
It was an intricately planned, aggressively expensive suicide mission. But someone had to sit in the chair.
The logic was simple: if he could survive in the past, he could accelerate the timeline of human scientific development. A head start of centuries, or even decades, could give humanity the technology required to alter the asteroid's path long before it ever became a threat.
—…five, four, three… The countdown slipped by as he organized his thoughts. At zero, an overwhelming, crushing pressure slammed into his body. The world shattered, and Ki-woo's consciousness was violently erased.
***
Fwump! "Ghk—!"
Air hammered into his lungs. Ki-woo's eyes snapped open. A deafening, freezing wind battered his body, threatening to throw him into a chaotic spin. Instinct, drilled into him through countless high-altitude training jumps, took over. He stabilized his posture, spreading his limbs to catch the rushing air.
Through the tinted lenses of his goggles, he scanned his surroundings.
Sky above. Earth below.
'I survived.' The sheer impossibility of his success sent a jolt of pure adrenaline through his system. But Ki-woo immediately clamped down on the rising euphoria. Emotion was a luxury he couldn't afford while in freefall. Survival dictated absolute, silent focus.
He analyzed the terrain rushing up to meet him. Vast, untamed plains stretched to the horizon, bordered by dense forests and a sprawling river. Crucially, there was zero sign of modern civilization. No concrete, no steel, no geometric city grids.
'The modern era is out. The time warp worked.' He calculated his next move. The priority was the river. Throughout history, civilizations inevitably took root near fresh water to support agriculture. He adjusted his trajectory, angling his descent toward the massive, winding body of water below.
At the optimal altitude, he pulled the ripcord.
The canopy deployed with a violent jerk, hauling him upward against gravity before his descent slowed to a steady, controlled drift. He memorized the shape and bends of the river as he floated downward.
As he neared the surface, tiny specks moved against the green riverbank.
'People.' Ki-woo's eyes narrowed. There were roughly fifteen of them.
'A perfect start.' To forcibly accelerate scientific progress, he couldn't be a hermit; he needed human capital. He had to integrate into whatever society existed here.
As he drifted lower, their details sharpened. They wore crude animal hides and feathers. In their hands, they gripped primitive spears and wooden bows.
'Native Americans.' The realization crystallized instantly. He didn't know if he was in North or South America, but the location was undeniable.
It hadn't been his primary choice. Asia would have offered a more familiar developmental foundation, but reality was what it was. Pre-Columbian America possessed a relatively low technological baseline. It was a blank slate, entirely isolated. It would be far easier to build a foundation of power and science here than attempting to integrate into the deeply entrenched, racially divided societies of ancient Europe.
He could work with this.
As Ki-woo manipulated the parachute lines to control his landing, a loud commotion drifted up from the riverbank. He glanced down.
The natives had dropped their weapons. Slowly, one by one, they fell to their knees, pressing their heads to the dirt as they watched a man descend from the heavens.
A faint, highly pragmatic smile touched Ki-woo's lips.
They thought he was a god. That would make things exceptionally efficient.