The vision of Priya's tear-streaked face and the grim number on the news screen – 500 million by 2050 – shattered the fragile hope Arjun had painstakingly built. He stumbled from his bed, the chill of his apartment mirroring the cold dread that settled deep in his bones. The digital clock on his computer glowed, showing Friday, June 6, 2025. Twenty-five years. No, twenty-four years and six months until humanity was reduced to a mere fraction of its current self.
He sank into his desk chair, the hum of his computer and the silent presence of Hope doing little to comfort him. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, but he couldn't bring himself to open another file, to record another vision. What was the point? He had seen local disasters, global pandemics, even hinted at interdimensional threats. He had developed the most powerful digital control, built an AI for universal communication, and now, he knew there were others like him, nascent powers emerging across the globe. Yet, despite all this, the future he saw was a wasteland of human suffering.
"Can I save more people?" he whispered into the quiet room, the words feeling utterly hollow. His digital might felt like a child's toy against the backdrop of such a pervasive, long-term catastrophe. He had just witnessed a future where the world's population plummeted by nearly ninety percent. It wasn't a singular event he could pinpoint and disrupt, like a cyber-attack. It was a slow, agonizing bleed.
A profound weariness settled over him, heavier than any exhaustion from coding or visions. "Will I be able to do anything that truly matters?" The thought echoed, mocking him. He had spent months, years, fighting in the shadows, trying to avert crises, but this ultimate vision suggested his efforts were ultimately futile.
His gaze drifted to the window, the faint glow of Jaipur's distant city lights. People were living their lives out there, oblivious. Laughing, working, loving. They didn't know their collective future held such devastating emptiness.
"Should I let the world end?" The thought, born of pure despair, was blasphemous to his very being, yet it surfaced, tempting him with the surrender he craved. Was this what fate intended? Was this the will of some higher power, some cosmic design that he, a mere human granted impossible gifts, was powerless to defy? Was God simply letting the world unravel?
The weight of the question, the futility, the crushing burden of seeing a future he couldn't change, pressed down on him. His eyes burned, but no tears came. He felt utterly hollowed out, suspended in an agonizing limbo between an unstoppable future and his own, seemingly inadequate, powers. The sheer mental and emotional exhaustion finally claimed him. He slumped forward, his head resting on his arms on the cool, hard surface of his desk, and fell into a deep, troubled sleep.