Kane Mercer gasped, coughing against the damp morning air. His head throbbed, his chest heaved—and yet there was no chaos. No screaming. No blood-soaked streets. Just rain, asphalt, and the faint, ordinary smell of wet concrete.
He scrambled to his feet, heart hammering, eyes scanning the familiar but eerily quiet streets. Everything looked normal. Too normal.
"No… no, this can't be…" Kane muttered, panic rising. His hands trembled as he fumbled for his phone, searching desperately for some proof. The screen lit up. His calendar app blinked at him.
Exactly one year before the apocalypse he had died in.
His stomach dropped. Memories slammed into him: the screams, the mutated animals, the hordes of zombies, the betrayal, the pain of dying alone. He had been gone. Dead. And yet… here he was. Alive.
"Am I… dreaming?" he whispered, pinching himself hard. The pain was real. He stumbled, nearly falling, eyes wide, trying to process what had happened. Every quiet street, every shadowed corner, every drop of rain reminded him: he had been sent back. He had a second chance.
Then the voice came, smooth, precise, and impossibly calm, echoing directly inside his mind:
"User Kane Mercer. System online. I am your AI interface. I will assist you in preparation and survival."
Kane froze. "Inside… me?" he stammered.
"Yes," the AI replied. "I can transfer knowledge directly to your brain. All engineering, construction, and tactical data required for your survival and objectives will be accessible instantly."
Kane's pulse raced. Memories of his helplessness in the apocalypse flared again. Now, with this AI… he wouldn't be helpless.
Streams of information flooded his mind. Schematics, materials lists, assembly instructions, tactical simulations—all pouring in at once. His thoughts scattered, but gradually, clarity emerged. He could build a construction droid from scratch, optimized for strength, efficiency, and durability. He could use it to prepare, to fortify, to survive.
The AI continued, calm as ever: "Before building, you must acquire resources. You are currently without funds or materials. Step one: secure money discreetly. Step two: gather raw materials. Step three: establish a workspace. Step four: construct the first droid."
Kane nodded slowly, exhaling. The path was clear. He had a year. One year to prepare for the virus, the mutations, the alien-planned apocalypse. One year to survive, and to save the future little girl he had glimpsed in the chaos of the old timeline.
"I understand," Kane said, voice steadying. "I'll get the money. I'll gather the resources. I'll build the droid. Then… everything else."
"Acknowledged," the AI said. "Probability of successful preparation: 97.3%. Adjustments will be made as variables change."
Kane stood in the empty street, rain soaking his jacket, heart pounding—not with fear this time, but with purpose.