Ethan Walker's stomach grumbled. It had been a long day at the office, filled with endless reports, pointless meetings, and his boss breathing down his neck about deadlines. As usual, he was the last to leave. The hum of the fluorescent lights in the empty office building only made the silence feel even heavier.
He sighed, glancing at his wristwatch. 9:47 PM.
"Great, missed dinner again," he muttered to himself as he stood up, stretching his sore muscles from sitting in the same chair for hours.
Stepping out into the cool night air, the streets were mostly empty. The corporate buildings around him stood tall, cold, and indifferent, as if to mock his daily grind. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets and made his way to the nearest Lawson convenience store, a familiar late-night ritual.
He entered the store, the artificial brightness and soft hum of refrigerators welcoming him like an old friend. Ethan quickly grabbed a bento box from the shelf without even looking at the label. His mind was on autopilot at this point—grab dinner, get home, eat, and sleep just to wake up and do it all again.
The bento was a cheap, greasy one. A few pieces of fried chicken, a half-cold rice ball, and something that resembled vegetables. He didn't care. Food was food. He took it to the counter, paid with his card, and left.
By the time Ethan reached the subway station, his stomach's complaints had grown louder. He sat on a bench, pulled out the bento box, and began eating. The chicken tasted a little off, but he was too hungry to care. He wolfed it down in a few bites, not even noticing the faint sour smell that clung to the food.
The train arrived, and Ethan boarded, sitting down by the window. He leaned back, closing his eyes as the rhythmic motion of the subway lulled him into a light sleep. That's when the nausea hit.
His stomach churned violently. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, and he doubled over, clutching his gut. The world around him began to blur, the sounds of the train fading away. Panic set in as his vision darkened, the pain growing unbearable.
"What... the hell..." he gasped, barely able to get the words out. And then, nothing.
Ethan's eyes fluttered open, his body numb and weightless. His first thought was that he was in a hospital. Maybe someone found him passed out on the train. But as his vision cleared, the last remnants of grogginess fading away, he realized something was horribly wrong.
Instead of a white hospital room or the interior of a subway car, he was staring out at a vast, star-filled sky. His heart raced as he sat up. He was in some kind of cockpit, surrounded by strange, glowing panels and holographic displays. The seat beneath him vibrated slightly, as though the entire structure around him was moving.
"What the...?" Ethan muttered, looking around frantically. His hands moved to touch the glowing controls, but he immediately pulled them back, unsure of what to do.
This was no dream. The cold, metallic feel of the cockpit seat beneath him, the faint hum of machinery, and the distant stars told him this was real. But how? The last thing he remembered was passing out on the subway.
He stood up, stumbling slightly in the low gravity. The cockpit was small, barely enough room to stretch. There was a large, reinforced glass window at the front, and beyond it, space stretched endlessly. The panels around him blinked with unfamiliar symbols, and one of them flashed red.
Ethan didn't know what to do. His first instinct was to press buttons, but considering his situation, he hesitated. The last thing he wanted was to eject himself into space or blow up the entire ship.
The screen continued flashing, and a mechanical voice crackled to life from the ship's speakers. It spoke in a language he couldn't understand, harsh and guttural, but the tone was unmistakably urgent. Something was wrong.
Ethan's eyes darted to the controls, trying to make sense of the situation. His hands trembled as he reached for a lever on the console, hoping it was the right one. He gave it a hesitant tug, and the ship lurched violently.
A loud alarm blared, and Ethan was thrown back into his seat as the star ship plunged toward a distant planet. The atmosphere around the ship glowed red as they entered the planet's gravitational pull, and the ship began to shake violently. Ethan's heart pounded in his chest as he frantically pulled at the controls, trying to regain some semblance of control.
The ship hurtled toward the surface, and Ethan braced for impact. He squeezed his eyes shut as the ground rushed toward him, waiting for the inevitable crash.
The impact was jarring but not as catastrophic as he expected. The ship skidded along the ground, throwing up dust and debris, before finally coming to a halt with a loud screech of metal. The cockpit filled with smoke, and Ethan coughed, trying to wave it away.
When the dust finally settled, Ethan sat in stunned silence, his hands still gripping the controls. His heart was racing, and every muscle in his body ached. Slowly, he unbuckled the harness that had kept him in his seat and stood up, his legs trembling.
Outside the cockpit window, he could see an alien landscape. Red sands stretching as far as the eye could see, with jagged rock formations rising in the distance. Strange, cactus-like plants dotted the horizon, their spiny limbs reaching toward the sky. A thick, swirling fog hung low over the ground, and the air outside looked thin and dry.
Ethan stumbled out of the cockpit, blinking against the harsh sunlight. The heat hit him like a wall, and he covered his face with his hand to shield himself. The smell of burning metal and something else, something acrid and unfamiliar, filled the air.
He had no idea where he was or how he'd gotten here. But one thing was clear: this wasn't Earth anymore.