The end of the world had always been a topic of fascination and fear, woven through centuries of speculation, religious prophecy, and scientific prediction. Among the voices that warned humanity about its impending doom, none rang louder than that of Stephen Hawking. The celebrated physicist had outlined multiple potential threats to the survival of humanity, ranging from cosmic disasters like meteor strikes and solar flares to self-inflicted catastrophes such as climate change and the rise of artificial intelligence. Yet, what truly struck a chord was his timeline: humanity had only 200 years to find a new planet before Earth became uninhabitable.
Some dismissed Hawking's predictions as no different from the forewarnings of astrologers like Jeane Dixon or speculative theorists like Peter Tuthill. But for others, his words were a clarion call. The question was no longer "if" but "when" the end would come. For these believers, the priority was not the detailed unraveling of how Earth might perish but rather ensuring survival beyond its boundaries. Curiosity about the end was overshadowed by the instinct to outlive it.
By 2050, however, the general population seemed far removed from Hawking's vision. Life trudged on, indifferent to the melting Arctic ice caps and sporadic cosmic bombardments. The human capacity for denial, it appeared, was boundless. The world had grown strangely calm, even as its problems escalated. Conspiracy theorists and doomsday prophets roamed the streets, ignored by passersby. Sector 51—once the hub of alien invasion rumors—had become little more than a tourist attraction. Religious fervor had waned, with churches shuttering due to dwindling congregations. The societal fabric had shifted in ways that were as surprising as they were transformative.
Key to this transformation was the London Pact of 2029, which had made racism a terrorist offense, effectively criminalizing the age-old prejudices that had divided humanity. This landmark agreement was followed by the Jerusalem Treaty of 2037, a radical piece of legislation that redefined the role of religion in society. Faith became a private matter, known only to the individual and the state. Proselytizing was banned, and religious conversion—once a source of endless conflict—ceased entirely. With the removal of these divisive elements, the world began to shift toward secularism, leading to a newfound, if uneasy, peace.
Yet this peace was tinged with irony. Without wars and terrorist attacks to claim lives, mortality rates still rose—a cruel reminder of nature's balance. Diseases emerged in new forms, and accidents continued to claim their due. Some wondered if humanity's newfound calmness was simply a veneer, masking a deeper existential dread. With traditional spiritual outlets diminished, people turned inward, grappling with the void left by the absence of faith and conflict. Materialism flourished, filling the vacuum with an insatiable appetite for luxury, technology, and convenience.
Meanwhile, the scientific community remained steadfast in its pursuit of an "alternate Earth." Hawking's warning served as their guiding star, and projects aimed at interstellar travel gained unprecedented funding and attention. For many scientists, the allure of discovering extraterrestrial life was as compelling as the need to secure humanity's survival. Progress was slow but steady. A spacecraft had managed to land on an asteroid beyond the solar system—a monumental achievement—but the challenges of time, fuel, and human adaptability loomed large. The journey to another habitable planet, if it were ever to happen, seemed eons away.
In this world of contradictions, Sutherland Properties thrived as an unlikely success story. This real estate empire, founded by the unassuming Mr. and Mrs. Sutherland, catered to a unique clientele. With religion relegated to secrecy, their company provided discreet, fortified spaces for individuals and groups to practice their faith in privacy. Sutherland Properties became a silent partner in preserving the remnants of spirituality, albeit under the guise of materialism.
Mr. and Mrs. Sutherland were hardly the archetypes of corporate moguls. The elderly couple led modest lives, their offices understated and their demeanor humble. Mr. Sutherland's brilliance as an architect was matched only by Mrs. Sutherland's organizational prowess. Together, they built an empire that remained grounded in simplicity. But their idyllic partnership came to an abrupt end when Mrs. Sutherland succumbed to a heart attack. Her death left a void that extended beyond her husband's personal grief. The business, too, faltered, as Mr. Sutherland suffered a debilitating stroke soon after, leaving him partially paralyzed and unable to manage their thriving enterprise.
Enter Ray Sutherland, the prodigal son. A brilliant NASA scientist, Ray had long been estranged from the family business, choosing instead to dedicate his life to the mysteries of space. But his parents' declining health and the urgent need to steer Sutherland Properties through turbulent times brought him back into the fold. With his sharp intellect and visionary mindset, Ray transformed the company in ways no one could have anticipated.
Ray's arrival marked a turning point. Under his leadership, Sutherland Properties began to pivot from simply providing privacy to becoming a hub for innovation. Ray envisioned a future where the company could play a role in humanity's survival. Drawing on his expertise in astrophysics and engineering, he launched initiatives to develop sustainable, self-contained habitats—not just for Earth but for potential colonization on other planets. His efforts aligned seamlessly with the broader scientific agenda, and soon, Sutherland Properties became a key player in the race to secure humanity's future.
The world of 2050, though outwardly peaceful, was a complex tapestry of hope and despair, progress and stagnation. Humanity stood at a crossroads, its fate uncertain. For those who heeded Hawking's warnings, the path was clear: survival depended on adaptation and exploration. Yet for the majority, life continued as it always had, with eyes firmly shut to the horizon where Earth's end loomed. In this delicate balance, the story of humanity's next chapter began to unfold.