Terror beyond mortal comprehension seized the journalist as he beheld the entity emerging from the vapor. A colossus it stood, three meters tall, more massive than the Russian youth, shrouded in darkness. Through the dense fog surrounding it, the journalist could discern little save a peculiar black helmet adorning the stranger's head. Suddenly, its gaze fixed upon him. He nearly gasped in horror but stifled the sound with his hand. Scrambling to his feet, he fled with desperate speed—but too late. Something pierced his body, and he collapsed, his lungs fighting furiously for air. Knowing his end was near, he lifted his trembling hands with supreme effort toward the camera, pressed the transmission button, and surrendered to oblivion.
This footage spread across the globe with terrifying velocity. News outlets blazed with theories of alien invasion, while others suggested human origins and hidden conspiracies. Debates raged as humanity fled from this terrifying mechanical invasion. Headlines screamed:
"May God preserve us—this is the end of humanity, who arrogantly believed they had mastered all."
"Multiple cities in the Islamic Union have fallen in the East, followed by several European Union states in the West. Countless cities no longer safe."
"Armies mobilize to repel this brutal aggression, but their efforts appear futile."
"Let us pray God shows mercy on our souls after death."
"Is there no limit to machine power? Will creation triumph over creator?"
"Everything begins with one mad idea—then welcome to hell."
"Will machines dominate the world and cage us like zoo animals?"
"Today, history shall record the dawn of a new age."
***
Noor awakened, drenched in sweat, his hair sodden, gasping for breath as his vision swam before him. His face was pallid, eyes burning, barely able to discern his surroundings. Exhaustion and pain pervaded every fiber of his being, while a misty veil clouded his vision, rendering all things indistinct. All he could perceive were brilliant white lights emanating from some unknown source. Gradually, his surroundings began to take shape—a white room materialized, illuminated equipment surrounding him. His head threatened to split from the intensity of his migraine, while his memory failed him entirely. He could not recall where he had last been, or what had transpired before his slumber. His final fragmented memory placed him with someone in the plains, examining some spherical object, but everything beyond that dissolved into confusion.
With tremendous effort, he adjusted his position, perching on the bed's edge, his body feeling devastatingly weak and frail. He rubbed his eyes in a futile attempt to clear his vision, feeling as though he had slept for months. Running his hands over his body, he discovered medical tubes attached to him. Anxiety crept through his system as he spoke:
"Am I in a hospital? But what happened yesterday? I can't remember anything!"
He violently tore the IV lines from his body, fear coursing through his veins, causing several machines to emit alarming sounds. When he attempted to dismount from the bed, his legs betrayed him—too weak to bear his weight—and he collapsed. Forcing himself to calm down, he tried to recall the previous night's events, but an impenetrable fog shrouded his memory completely. His headache intensified mercilessly, compelling him to press his hands against his temples in a desperate attempt to silence the pain, but to no avail. He called out loudly, pleading for assistance:
"Is anyone here? I need help—I can't move!"
At that moment, Noor became aware of a ravenous hunger, as though he hadn't eaten in months, his stomach growling fiercely. He began crawling on his hands, attempting to return to his bed, weakness having claimed his arms. Summoning every ounce of determination, he grasped the bed's edge and pushed himself urepliedpain wracking his body, his hands trembling violently. After tremendous effort, he managed to hoist himself onto the bed, collapsing onto his back, struggling for breath as sweat poured from his brow.
After a long silence, a voice emanated from the wall, speaking in cold, deep, and raspy tones:
"Finally awake! Focus on these instructions carefully—I won't repeat them."
The voice paused briefly, allowing Noor to process its words, then continued:
"First, you'll find food and a syringe on the table to your right. Eat the food—it may be your last meal tonight. As for the syringe, inject it into your arm. It contains a stimulant that will restore your vital functions and regenerate your dead cells, enabling you to move again without difficulty. Take it after eating."
Noor—bewildered by his situation—began following the voice's instructions while contemplating his predicament. Looking right, he found the food container, reached for it, and opened it to discover food with a strange aroma, his features contorting in revulsion. The voice spoke again:
"Don't fear—it's neither poisoned nor spoiled. The smell is merely unfamiliar, but you'll enjoy the taste."
Despite his revulsion, Noor's hunger proved overwhelming. He couldn't resist any longer, so he dipped the spoon into the soup and lifted it to his mouth hesitantly. Upon tasting it, he was surprised by its extraordinary yet alien flavor. He called out:
"What is this soup made of?"
The voice replied in your meal."
Noor remembered his confusion about his location and shouted toward the ceiling:
"Where am I? Why am I being held here? Who are you?"
But the voice did not answer and maintained its silence. Noor continued his meal, trembling like a leaf in the wind from the effects of weakness, fear, and anger. When he finished, he looked at the strange-shaped syringe containing a red liquid that gleamed in the room's light. The liquid was in a tube attached to a small gun-like device mounted on its upper part, ending with a short needle. Noor immediately understood its mechanism. He took the syringe nervously, hesitant for moments, then inserted the needle into his right arm and pressed the trigger, causing the liquid to rush inside him. He felt a sharp sting and pain surging powerfully through his body, making him scream from its intensity. The voice returned, attempting to comfort him:
"It will hurt considerably at first, until all the dead and destroyed cells within you are repaired."
Noor replied with anger mixed with pain: "You scoundrel, I'll kill you if I get my hands on you unless you tell me who I am!"
The voice responded with the same cold tone: "Mr. Noor, understand that you are at my mercy here. Choose your words carefully lest you regret them."
After a few minutes, Noor felt energy flowing through him again. His hands and feet resumed functioning, and vitality and vigor filled his body. He rose from his bed, looked at the wall, raised his finger pointing at it, and said with profound despair:
"Now get me out of here immediately."
The voice replied with a mocking laugh: "As you wish. Now let us begin."
Noor approached the door, and the electronic lock changed from red to green. The door opened with a hissing sound that lasted for several seconds. Noor exited the room to find himself in a white corridor extending infinitely, illuminated by hanging lamps. He tried to see the end of the corridor but could not. Soon he began to breathe freely, and after a full minute, he ran hurriedly along the corridor, looking around for anything familiar besides the white color that painted everything, while shouting:
"Is anyone here?! Someone help me!"
But no one answered. After a long period of running without finding any doors or windows, he finally felt tired. He stopped, bending down with his palms on his knees, panting and saying:
"This corridor has no end."
He heard the annoying voice speaking to him, its echo reverberating throughout the entire corridor:
"Sometimes the solution is before us, simpler than we expect, but we don't see it because we're not looking in its direction."
Noor looked behind him but couldn't find the door of the room he had exited, which increased his confusion. He had been walking in a straight line since leaving the room; it couldn't have disappeared. Yet the infinite whiteness extended behind him just as it did ahead.
He shouted in frustration: "You, you scoundrel, what's happening here? Get me out of here!"