Chapter 007: The Beginning
No one aboard the bus realized that what they were experiencing was not a localized disaster.
Far beyond the white mist that had swallowed them, the world was still carrying on as usual.
Airplanes were still taking off.
Ships were still sailing.
Traffic lights were still changing.
People were still heading to work.
No one knew that within the next few minutes, the lives of billions of people would change forever.
And those living on either side of the Equator...
would become the very first to experience it.
The Mysterious Mist Descends
Supadio Airport — 8:00 A.M.
Morning light still filled Supadio Airport.
The terminal's massive glass walls reflected the bright Kalimantan sun. Sunlight streamed through the glass, gleaming across the marble floors and rows of waiting seats, making the entire airport feel calm and welcoming.
Out on the apron, baggage vehicles moved back and forth collecting luggage. Aircraft that had just landed taxied toward their gates. Apron crews hurried through their routines. Pilots checked their instruments. Passengers walked through the terminal with cups of coffee in hand as the wheels of their suitcases rattled across the floor.
The long check-in lines crept forward.
Passengers stared at departure screens, typed rapidly on their phones, or chatted casually with their families.
A mother kept pulling her two children back whenever they tried to run toward the souvenir shop.
Outside, the roar of jet engines echoed across the apron as aircraft taxied and departed.
NNNGGGGRRHHHH... BRRRTT...
The sounds of baggage trucks and luggage carts blended into the rhythm of the busy morning.
Apron crews blew whistles and shouted directions, though their voices were nearly drowned out by the constant bustle.
Busy.
Crowded.
Yet orderly.
Just another ordinary morning at the airport.
Then—
the northern horizon cracked apart like shattered glass.
Against the blue sky, a thin curtain of pale gray-white mist descended in a perfectly straight line from the heavens to the earth.
It was incredibly thin.
Yet it drew every eye.
"Hey... what's that?"
One passenger pointed toward the enormous glass windows.
"Clouds... right?"
someone else answered uncertainly, unable to take their eyes off the curtain stretching from the sky all the way to the apron.
Apron crews stopped loading baggage.
Their mouths fell open.
"Pak... that mist... it's coming down onto the runway!"
Inside the control tower, every radar display suddenly went black.
Communication panels shut down simultaneously.
Electronic alarms sounded briefly—
then fell silent.
The controllers panicked.
"Every system's down?! What's happening?!"
Out on the apron, baggage vehicles slowed to a stop.
Dashboard displays died.
Electric service vehicles stalled where they stood.
A supervisor shouted, though distance swallowed much of his voice.
"We have to evacuate the aircraft! All staff, move to safe positions!"
An aircraft that had just landed rolled to a halt on the runway.
Its engines died.
The pilot tapped his headset and stared at lifeless instruments.
High above, several approaching aircraft instantly lost autopilot and all communications.
An oppressive silence settled over everything.
A mother hugged her daughter tightly as they stood beside the terminal windows.
"Look...
the mist...
it's reaching the ground."
"Why...
why does it look like a wall of smoke?"
her daughter whispered, eyes wide.
From a distance, the enormous curtain hung like a gigantic blanket suspended between heaven and earth.
Its reflection across the terminal glass and the fading light over the apron made it appear even larger.
Several crew members exchanged uncertain glances.
Unable to decide whether they were witnessing something magnificent...
or terrifying.
Travelers throughout the terminal stopped walking.
Their eyes remained fixed on the immense curtain stretching from sky to earth.
Some whispered.
Some froze in place.
Others stared in fascinated disbelief.
Many instinctively reached for their phones to record the bizarre phenomenon before them.
"Look...
it reaches all the way to the ground..."
one man whispered, eyes wide.
"What is that...
smoke?"
a woman murmured while beginning to record.
"It's like a wall...
but...
how is that even possible?"
another young man muttered as he searched his pocket for his phone.
Many people frowned the instant they looked at their screens.
Black.
Completely black.
No matter how many times they pressed the power button—
nothing happened.
"Hey... why won't it turn on?!"
a woman cried, repeatedly pressing the button.
"Everything's dead..."
the man beside her muttered, staring at his dark screen in disbelief.
Another young man pressed his phone's side button.
Still nothing.
A ripple of unease spread among everyone who could clearly see the mysterious white wall of mist.
People exchanged nervous glances.
Confusion slowly gave way to fear.
The massive curtain remained suspended in absolute silence.
It did not move.
Yet its sheer size alone was enough to intimidate.
Meanwhile, the devices that normally gave people a sense of control...
had become utterly useless.
The EMP Shockwave
In an instant...
the terminal and the apron were swallowed by an eerie silence.
CLACK!
Every flight information display shut off simultaneously.
Indicator lights vanished.
Black screens stared back at the passengers.
BRRRTTT!
Check-in computers.
Baggage scanners.
Elevators.
Escalators.
Everything stopped at once.
Suitcases rolled to a halt.
Conveyor belts froze midway.
The announcement system—which only moments ago had been broadcasting boarding calls and cheerful greetings—
produced nothing but a long hiss.
Ssssshhhh...
Then...
silence.
For the first second...
the silence itself felt suffocating.
Passengers looked at one another.
Whispers spread.
"Why...
did everything suddenly go quiet?"
one man asked, trembling.
"The engines...
I can't hear them anymore..."
a woman murmured, pressing a hand against her chest, her eyes widening.
Elsewhere, another crisis unfolded.
An elevator suddenly stopped.
Its cabin lights went completely dark.
The buttons no longer worked.
Passengers became trapped between floors.
Darkness.
Silence.
Even the air somehow felt different.
Modern instinct took over.
Nearly everyone pulled out a phone, hoping to use its flashlight or call for help.
Every screen remained black.
Every button was dead.
Just like everything else.
Some people leaned against the walls.
Others held each other's hands.
Breathing grew faster.
Panicked whispers began spreading.
"Why...
why won't it turn on either?"
one man muttered, blinking in the darkness.
Children grew restless.
Parents lowered themselves beside them, trying to offer comfort.
Outside, every electronic system throughout the terminal and apron had failed.
Elevators remained frozen in darkness.
Psychological tension continued building.
Some people repeatedly pressed elevator buttons and escalator controls.
Nothing.
Dark screens.
Dead buttons.
The first few moments felt painfully silent.
No engines.
No button chimes.
No elevator motors.
Only breathing...
and quiet whispers.
Panic had not fully erupted.
But tension had already begun creeping into every corner.
Throughout the airport—
the silence was real.
And terrifying.
No aircraft engines.
No humming lights.
No electronic sounds.
Only breathing.
Footsteps echoing faintly through the terminal.
And the scraping of rolling suitcases across polished marble.
An apron crew member shouted,
"Every system is down! Manual evacuation, now! Move!"
The atmosphere transformed from calm efficiency into confusion and growing anxiety...
while the mysterious curtain of mist continued hanging on the horizon.
Silent.
Threatening.
Motionless.
The Runway
Ground crews hurried across the apron, pushing baggage carts and directing tow vehicles while a fuel truck slowly approached an aircraft preparing for departure.
A Boeing 737 had just landed.
Its wheels touched the runway with a brief screech.
Everything felt routine.
Busy.
Noisy.
Controlled.
Then—
the next second—
everything fell silent.
CLACK!
Every flight information display went dark.
BRRRTTT!
Baggage scanners.
Check-in computers.
Elevators.
Escalators.
All stopped simultaneously.
The public-address system emitted only a faint hiss.
"Ssshhh..."
Then nothing.
Ground personnel stared at one another.
Eyes wide.
They slapped control panels.
Tapped cables.
Tried restarting equipment.
"Why...
why won't it power back on?"
one technician muttered while twisting switches on a dead control panel.
Out on the apron, the newly landed Boeing 737 skidded several more meters before finally stopping.
Its wheels squealed against the runway.
Inside the cockpit, the pilots tapped the instrument panel, advanced the throttles, and cycled through the flight displays.
Nothing responded.
At the opposite end of the runway, another aircraft had already begun its takeoff roll.
Its engines died completely.
The pilots slammed on the brakes and deployed the spoilers.
Momentum still carried the aircraft several more meters down the runway before it finally stopped in eerie silence.
Cabin crew breathed rapidly.
Passengers slapped the windows.
Children cried softly.
Adults whispered in panic.
Tow tractors.
Baggage carts.
Fuel trucks.
Every vehicle on the apron stood motionless.
Some rocked slightly over the uneven pavement, but gravity kept them from rolling away.
Airport workers ran from one disabled vehicle to another.
They struck control panels.
Tried restarting engines.
Waved frantically toward nearby aircraft.
Attempted manual communication.
The runway became oppressively silent.
Only footsteps.
Breathing.
And the occasional minor collision between disabled vehicles.
The silence itself became a crushing weight on everyone standing on the tarmac.
Everyone realized the same terrifying truth.
The systems...
and the technology they had always depended on...
were now completely useless.