Year 2072. That was when the Great Himalayan Earthquake hit.
For centuries, the tectonic plates beneath the Himalayas had been building pressure in silence. And when it finally released… it did not crack gently. It tore through cities, through mountains, through entire nations. It took down everything with it.
Everyone who did not know it was coming.Some survived. Most didn't. In a world of twelve billion people, only half a billion remained. Leaders. Businessmen. Military heads. Their families. The prepared.
But the earthquake was not the only thing that came.
The following year, the cold arrived. The massive tectonic rupture triggered chains of supervolcanic eruptions and released enormous amounts of ash and sulfur into the upper atmosphere. Sunlight was blocked, global temperatures fell sharply, and ocean currents destabilized. Within months, the planet slipped into a volcanic winter severe enough to resemble an ice age.
It lasted from 2073 to 2076. When the ice finally began to retreat, humanity stepped out into a world it barely recognized. Infrastructure was gone. Economies were gone. Entire coastlines had vanished.
Rebuilding began slowly. It was during those desperate years that the technology we now identify as ChronoExchange was invented. At first, it was meant to preserve critical lives in a fragile world. Later, it became something much larger. It is 2242 now.
And we still suffer from that setback.
"What was the world like before?" a student asked, standing up and raising his hand.
The professor looked at him calmly.
"It was very different. Almost thirty percent of the Earth's surface was pure land. And it wasn't a single continuous mass like it is now."
"So the earthquake created a supercontinent once again? Just like Pangaea?" the student asked.
"Yes, it did," the professor replied. "The only difference is that we lost a lot of land this time."
The bell rang. Students jumped out of their seats. Some woke from sleep in confusion. Others behaved as if nothing unusual had been discussed at all. The room emptied quickly.
One student remained.
"Sir…" he said as the professor gathered his papers.
"Yes, go on."
"Were you there? During the ice age?"
The professor hesitated for a moment.
"No," he said quietly. "Do you think I have enough money to even buy half a century of my lifetime?
Justin… tomorrow I'll ask you about what I taught today. Don't disappoint me."
Without another word, he left. Justin stood there for a second, staring at the empty doorway. A moment later, his friends slipped back into the lecture hall.
"What is it, Justin?" a short boy with circular glasses and long, unkempt hair said with a smirk. "Begging the professor to donate you a few years?"
"Of course not," Justin replied flatly. "I don't think anyone around us even has forty years left. The rich are sucking our blood like mosquitoes."
"The world's not going to change, is it?" another boy said quietly. He was dark-skinned, Native American, always wearing a hat and brightly colored clothes that never matched—an odd choice, but somehow it suited him.
Justin leaned against a desk.
"You know… before ChronoExchange existed, people could live up to eighty years. Naturally. If they were healthy." He paused. "My mother used to tell me."
he short boy laughed lightly. "Yeah? Your mother loved telling stories. We'd love to hear more of them."
Silence fell. The smile faded from his face as he noticed the way everyone was looking at him. Then he looked at Justin.
"Oh." Realization hit.
"I'm sorry, Justin. I forgot."
Justin turned his face away. "It's fine," he said after a moment. "I didn't mind." He picked up his bag. "I should go. I'll see you guys at the field in the evening."
He walked out. The two friends stood there, watching him disappear down the corridor. They hadn't meant to press on the wound. But sometimes the smallest words cut the deepest.