A serene chime resonated through the corridor, signaling the long-awaited end of the day. Classes had concluded, just like that.
Students poured from their classrooms, some gliding gracefully along the halls, while others sauntered, engaging in animated conversation. Yet Ren remained behind, standing by the window, observing the world below from his perch.
He resolved against boarding the Lev-Bus, opting instead for a leisurely walk. It wasn't that he harbored a dislike for flying; rather, he yearned to feel the earth beneath his feet.
With a nimble leap, he vaulted over the walls, evading the watchful cameras that dotted the area, and embarked down an uncharted path.
"The air feels unusually crisp today," he murmured to himself. He took long strides, a flutter of trepidation stirring within him, as he navigated according to the directions on his online map.
As he walked, his gaze fixated on the horizon to the east, where the shadows of man-made structures reached skyward like fingers grasping for the heavens, flanked by flying vehicles that danced against the backdrop of a twilight sky.
"It has been twelve years since the worst calamity in mankind," he reflected, his heart heavy with the weight of memory.
Ren strode past heaps of abandoned machinery lining the roadside, forgotten relics of a bygone era, and dilapidated buildings that stood as silent witnesses to time's passage. "This town is dead now," he lamented.
***
Twelve years ago...
On September 19, 2035, the day dawned like any other, with people bustling through the streets and children laughing in the parks, the rhythm of life unbroken.
At that time, Ren was merely a small boy, scarcely able to articulate his thoughts. He had just finished his lunch when the clock struck 1:28 PM.
Suddenly, a massive sphere erupted from the clouds, swallowing the sky whole, appearing as if conjured from thin air.
It devoured the sun, casting an eerie eclipse over the globe. Gazes turned skyward as humanity collectively stared in awe and dread at the enigmatic object that had consumed their light.
For seventeen interminable minutes, silence reigned as the world's intelligence agencies and celestial bodies spiraled into chaos, desperate to decipher the phenomenon.
And then came—the sound.
It was akin to forks scraping against an iron plate. A metallic wail of anguish. The shrill of chalk against a polished board. It was unbearable.
People fell to their knees, hands pressed tightly against their ears, blood seeping from them. Parents clutched their children, seeking refuge beneath whatever cover they could find. Every head turned skyward, eyes wide with terror, wondering, "Is this the end?"
And then—a man appeared, a savior amidst the chaos.
***
A cat leaped from the shadows, jolting Ren back to the present. He gazed at the lingering blue sun, his expression a tapestry of emotions—anger, remorse, and guilt intertwined.
As he traversed the town's newly constructed floating pedestrian lanes, he passed shimmering air highways draped beneath translucent safety fields. Children raced about, AR headsets aglow on their foreheads, laughing at wonders only they could see—dragons, spaceships, or perhaps mere phantoms of simpler times.
On the side pavement, designed with soft pressure tiles for comfort, a few elder citizens ambled quietly, their pets trotting alongside them in perfect synchrony, each step cushioned by the subtle technology embedded in the ground.
The world buzzed with innovation, yet Ren felt an odd heaviness in his steps, as if he were traversing a dream too light to bear. Each flicker of artificial joy deepened the quiet ache that lay beneath his calm facade.
He continued onward until a crackling voice broke through his reverie. A man sat by the roadside, his ragged appearance suggesting homelessness; a faded, dusty brown coat hung from his shoulders, sleeves torn, as he peddled his wares.
Yet, despite his attire, the man possessed a striking presence—golden-brown hair, a sharp chin, and peculiar ruby-like eyes that belied his circumstances.
Ren glanced at the items for sale—a rectangular leather box, its contents obscured. Intrigued, he stepped closer.
"These—these are real books!" he exclaimed, astonishment flooding his voice. The homeless man was indeed selling actual books. Books with tangible pages, not the swipe or scroll screens of the modern age, their ink alive with the essence of the written word—something long forgotten in a world where reading was merely an act of air.
Something compelled Ren toward the man—curiosity, thrill, or perhaps destiny itself.
He peered closely at the books, most of their covers barely legible. A collection of old fictional novels, biographies, and diaries, each one a testament to time's passage with pages yellowed and fragile.
Amid the myriad of titles, one caught his eye—a tattered leather cover, stained by the years. The title had faded, as if deliberately torn away, but at the bottom, the author's name remained just discernible: "Ru—Rudd Vellion." His breath caught in his throat.
The man watched Ren sift through the books with starry-eyed wonder, a smile creeping across his face. "You've got a good eye."
The sudden sound of his voice startled Ren. "Where did you get this book?"
The man's smile widened as he lifted the book, pointing it toward Ren. "Perhaps it was meant for you, which is why I have it."
Ren's brow furrowed, a sense of unease washing over him. "I don't think I need it."
"Don't be so confused, just take it; it would only rot here anyway," the man urged. "Some things find you when they must."
But Ren turned away, an instinctive resistance rising within him. He didn't know why, but it felt as if the book were calling to him. Looking back, he caught the man's gaze, which bore a different kind of smile—soft, gentle, yet imbued with regret. "Why?" Ren wondered silently.
As he walked away, the man remained silent, retreating into stillness as if he understood that their paths would cross again.
***
In the heart of the abandoned town, in a dim and forgotten corner, the man made his way into a dusty library. Books lay scattered on shelves, decaying and cloaked in dust and mildew. He approached an empty shelf, one that had once held the book that might harbor the answers to the calamity.
***
Upon arriving home, Ren reflected, 'It has been quite a day,' as he ascended the stairs to his room, his movements quiet and unassuming.
"Ren, come eat lunch," his mother called from the kitchen.
"No, I'm feeling a bit nauseous," he replied, opting to skip the meal.
"Did something happen?" she inquired, glancing up from her work. "I don't know," he muttered.
His mind was adrift, thoughts swirling as he lay on his pillow, staring blankly at the ceiling, preoccupied with the man and his book.
"Why was that man so insistent? When did Rudd Vellion even write a book? What could possibly be contained within its pages? And why does it feel as though I've encountered it before?"
He cast his gaze toward the window, wide open, and sighed.
"Again," he murmured.
As he shut the window, he lingered for a moment, gazing at the golden sun setting behind the towering buildings. Yet the sun still hung in the sky, flickering, its glow dimming gradually.
"The light will vanish once the moon rises," he mused.
Just as he turned to return to bed, a voice called out to him.
"Ren! Come eat! Skipping meals won't make your stomach any merrier," it was his mother.
"But I don't want to eat," Ren insisted.
"If you don't come, I'll come get you," she replied, and understanding the futility of further protest, he conceded. Trouble awaited him if he lingered, and so he ran.