The world outside the window was nothing short of a marvel. Amon could still hardly fathom it—skyscrapers of steel and glass, roads paved with black tar, and strange metal boxes that zipped by faster than the swiftest horses he'd ever known. The humans, too, moved differently—confident, absorbed in devices they held in their hands, their heads buried in technology. It was a far cry from the crude, stone-carved tools of his youth.
Amon tore his gaze away from the window, his thoughts colliding. 2024. The number felt meaningless to him, just another fragment of time. He had long since stopped keeping count. What mattered more was what he had missed. He could feel the weight of it now—centuries of progress, war, peace, and rebuilding. And all of it had happened without him.
Dr. Hayes was still watching him, his face a mixture of awe and scientific hunger. It had been too long since anyone had looked at Amon like this—as an enigma, as something to be studied. In the past, he had been seen as a god, a demon, a king, and sometimes, just a man. He had worn countless names, none of which mattered now.
"I can't imagine what this must be like for you," Dr. Hayes said carefully, breaking the silence. "You must feel... disoriented."
Amon's lips twitched, though not quite into a smile. "Disoriented is not the word. But I am curious."
"Curious?" Dr. Hayes blinked, surprised by the calmness of Amon's tone. "Curious about what?"
Amon turned fully to face him, his eyes dark with centuries of experience. "How did it come to this? How did you build all of this?" He gestured toward the cityscape beyond the window. "And what of the others? The empires? The civilizations I once knew—where are they now?"
Dr. Hayes looked taken aback, as though he hadn't expected such a sweeping question. He shifted uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck. "Well, a lot has changed, as you can imagine. Empires rose and fell—Rome, Byzantium, the Ottomans, the British Empire... But today, things are more... globalized. We have countries, but technology and communication have linked us in ways that would be unimaginable in the past."
Amon's brow furrowed slightly. "Globalized?"
Dr. Hayes nodded, pulling out the small rectangular device again—what Amon now realized was some kind of advanced tool. "We have something called the internet. It connects everyone, everywhere. You can communicate with anyone, access knowledge, news, history, all with the press of a button." He demonstrated, tapping the screen. "Anything you want to know—it's here."
Amon watched the glowing screen with interest, though he was cautious. He had learned long ago that with every new discovery came new dangers. "And what do you use this power for?"
Dr. Hayes laughed lightly, though there was a nervous edge to it. "Well, that's complicated. Some use it for good—education, communication, medical advancements. Others… well, there are always those who abuse new technologies." He glanced up, noticing the intensity in Amon's gaze. "But overall, we've come far. We've eradicated diseases, sent people to the moon, even created artificial intelligence."
"Artificial intelligence?" The term was foreign, and yet it struck a chord in Amon's mind.
"Machines that can think, learn, and make decisions on their own," Dr. Hayes explained, his voice filling with pride. "We've created things that can mimic human thought. In many ways, our technology has surpassed anything that was imagined even a hundred years ago."
Amon's mind raced. He had lived through the discovery of fire, the invention of the wheel, the rise of agriculture. He had watched humanity learn to bend nature to its will, to harness the forces of the world. But this—machines that could think? A global network that connected the minds of billions?
He closed his eyes briefly, feeling the pulse of the world. In the past, he had always been able to sense it—the rhythm of humanity, the rise and fall of empires like the beating of a giant heart. But now... now that rhythm was frantic, a constant hum, impossible to follow.
"You've built yourself a new world," Amon said softly. "But at what cost?"
Dr. Hayes blinked. "Cost?"
Amon opened his eyes again, piercing Dr. Hayes with his gaze. "Nothing comes without a price. Not for your kind."
There was a silence between them, one that stretched long enough to feel uncomfortable. Dr. Hayes cleared his throat. "Well, yes, there have been... complications. Climate change, overpopulation, wars over resources. We've made strides, but there's still much to fix."
Amon nodded slowly. "That sounds more like the humanity I remember."
Dr. Hayes hesitated, glancing at the device in his hand. "We still don't understand exactly how you've survived so long. Your body defies everything we know about biology. You've... seen it all, haven't you?"
Amon didn't answer immediately. He walked toward a chair and sat down, the movement graceful despite his age. His face, while still unlined, bore the weight of millennia in his eyes. "I've seen many things, yes. I've seen humanity in its infancy, and now I see it again as something else entirely."
"And yet you... slept through so much of it," Dr. Hayes said, almost as if asking why.
Amon leaned back, his mind reaching into the depths of his memory. He could still recall the weariness that had consumed him before he decided to rest. The endless cycle of human triumph and failure had begun to wear on him, each empire crumbling into dust, each generation repeating the mistakes of the last.
"I grew tired," Amon admitted. "I have lived more lifetimes than you can comprehend. Every time humanity reached new heights, I watched them fall back into chaos and ruin. I began to wonder if your kind was doomed to repeat history forever."
Dr. Hayes looked troubled. "And now?"
Amon's eyes darkened. "Now, I'm not so sure. You've come far, but I sense the same patterns."
Dr. Hayes frowned, but before he could respond, a soft chime rang from his device. He glanced down, and his face paled slightly. "I… I'm sorry, but I need to report to my superiors. They'll want to meet you. You are… well, the most significant discovery in human history."
Amon gave a slow nod, though his mind was elsewhere. He knew this feeling well—the stirrings of a new age. He had felt it many times before, each time thinking perhaps humanity had learned from its past. But now, standing on the precipice of a future built on machines and invisible connections, Amon wasn't sure what awaited him.
Dr. Hayes excused himself, leaving Amon alone once more.
Amon stood, moving to the window again. The city continued to move below him, a vast, churning machine of life. He couldn't help but wonder what role he would play in this new world. He had always left a mark on history, whether he had intended to or not.
But now, perhaps for the first time in thousands of years, he wasn't sure where he fit.