The journalist's breath hitched, a knot of pure, primal terror tightening in his chest. It emerged from the vapor like a nightmare made solid. A colossus, three meters tall and broader than the big Russian youth, shrouded in an unnatural darkness. Through the dense fog swirling around it, the only detail he could make out was a strange black helmet covering its head.
Suddenly, it looked at him.
He choked back a scream, clamping a hand over his mouth. Scrambling to his feet, he fled, his legs pumping with desperate speed—but it was too late. Something sharp pierced his back. He collapsed, his lungs burning as they fought for air. He knew this was the end. With the last of his strength, he lifted a trembling hand to his camera, slammed the transmission button, and surrendered to the darkness.
The footage went viral. News outlets exploded with theories of alien invasion; others whispered of secret human conspiracies. Panic spread as humanity reeled from the terrifying mechanical assault.
Headlines screamed across the globe:
"Islamic union cities fall in the east; Eu capitals overrun in the west."
"Humanity's End? Arrogance Meets Annihilation."
"Global armies mobilize, but efforts prove futile against unknown aggressor."
"Prayer vigils held worldwide as world leaders go silent."
"The creation has turned on the creator."
"One mad idea, and the world burns. Welcome to Hell."
"Will machines cage Us Like animals in a zoo?"
"Today, history will record the dawn of a new, terrible age."
***
Noor awoke with a gasp, drenched in sweat. His vision swam, his face was pale, and his eyes burned. A dull ache pervaded every fiber of his being, and a misty veil clouded his sight, making everything indistinct. All he could see were brilliant white lights shining down from an unknown source.
Slowly, his surroundings took shape. A white room. Gleaming medical equipment. A white-hot spike of pain drove through his skull, and he realized with a jolt that his memory was gone. He couldn't recall where he was, or what had happened before he fell asleep. The last thing he remembered was a fragmented image: standing on a grassy plain, looking at a black, spherical object. Everything after that was a blank, confusing fog.
With tremendous effort, he pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. His body felt devastatingly weak, frail. He ran his hands over his arms and chest, discovering medical tubes taped to his skin.
"Am I in a hospital?" he croaked, anxiety creeping into his voice. "What happened yesterday? I can't remember anything!"
Fear coursed through him, and he violently tore the IV lines from his arm. Machines next to the bed shrieked in alarm. When he tried to stand, his legs buckled, too weak to hold his weight, and he collapsed to the cold floor. He forced himself to calm down, to breathe, but the impenetrable fog over his memory wouldn't lift. His headache intensified. He pressed his hands to his temples, a desperate attempt to silence the throbbing, but it was useless.
"Is anyone here?" he yelled, his voice hoarse. "I need help! I can't move!"
At that moment, a ravenous hunger seized him, as though he hadn't eaten in months. His stomach growled fiercely. He began to crawl, his arms shaking with weakness, trying to get back to the bed. Summoning every last scrap of determination, he gripped the edge of the mattress and pulled. Pain shot through his body as he hoisted himself up, collapsing onto his back, struggling for breath.
After a long silence, a voice emanated from the wall—cold, deep, and raspy.
"Finally awake. Focus on these instructions carefully. I won't repeat them."
The voice paused. "First, you'll find food and a syringe on the table to your right. Eat. It may be your last meal tonight. As for the syringe, inject it into your arm. It's a stimulant. It will restore your vital functions and regenerate your dead cells. Take it after you've eaten."
Bewildered, Noor followed the instructions. He saw the food container, opened it, and recoiled. A strange, alien aroma wafted out.
"Don't be afraid," the voice said. "It's not poisoned. The smell is unfamiliar, but you'll enjoy the taste."
Despite his revulsion, the hunger was overwhelming. He dipped a spoon into the soup and hesitantly lifted it to his mouth. He was surprised. The flavor was extraordinary.
"What is this made of?" he called out.
"Everything you need," the voice replied.
"Where am I?" Noor shouted at the ceiling. "Why am I here? Who are you?"
The voice remained silent. Noor finished his meal, his body trembling from a mixture of weakness, fear, and anger. He then looked at the syringe. It was a strange, gun-like device with a tube of gleaming red liquid and a short needle at the end. He picked it up nervously, hesitated for a moment, then pressed the needle into his arm and pulled the trigger.
He screamed. A sharp, searing pain surged through his body.
"It will hurt at first," the voice said, its tone maddeningly calm. "That is the feeling of your dead cells being repaired."
"You bastard!" Noor snarled through the pain. "I'll kill you! Just tell me who I am!"
"Mr. Noor," the voice replied coldly. "Understand that you are at my mercy here. Choose your words carefully, lest you regret them."
After a few minutes, the pain subsided, replaced by a flow of energy. His limbs began to function again, his body filling with vigor. He stood up from the bed, pointed a shaking finger at the wall, and said with profound despair, "Now get me out of here."
"As you wish," the voice replied with a hint of a mocking laugh. "Let us begin."
The electronic lock on the door in front of him switched from red to green. The door opened with a long hiss. Noor stepped out and found himself in a white corridor that stretched on into infinity, lit by glowing lamps on the ceiling. He looked both ways, but couldn't see an end. He started to run, shouting as he went.
"Is anyone here?! Help me!"
But no one answered. After running for what felt like an eternity, he finally stopped, bent over with his hands on his knees, panting. "This corridor has no end."
He heard the annoying voice again, its echo reverberating all around him. "Sometimes the solution is right in front of us, but we don't see it because we're not looking in the right direction."
Noor spun around. The door he had come through was gone. The infinite white corridor stretched out behind him, just as it did ahead.
"You!" he screamed in frustration, his voice raw. "You bastard, what is happening? Get me out of here!".