A cute, metallic voice buzzed insistently in Elena's ears, finally breaking through her sleep
She rubbed her eyes, bringing a silver laptop into focus. It floated and buzzed, a shimmering bead in her blurry vision. Fear sent Elena sprinting to the door, only to find it completely blocked by a jumble of furniture and belongings. From the hovering laptop behind her, a strange, cheerful metallic voice chirped, "Great rising, Elena."
With a thud, Elena landed on the floor, the impact stinging her rear. A torrent of memories from yesterday crashed over her. "A talking, floating laptop? That's a far cry from yesterday's horror," Elena mused, examining it curiously.
"But my laptop's pink!" A mechanical voice responded, "Yes, it's me, Pinky."
"If it can talk," Elena mused, "it can definitely change color."
"Pinky, could you explain the unusual events unfolding in this city, and how you've acquired the ability to speak and levitate?"
"Based on data I've collected from your phone, your neighbor's phone, and their television," the mechanical voice buzzed, "experts are reporting that an unknown energy is causing rapid global evolution. Pinky's mechanical voice buzzed thoughtfully. "As for why I'm...awake? My preliminary analysis points to the unknown energy, but I'd need more data before I'd jump to conclusions."
Elena dressed, her heart pounding. The blue sky, visible through her window, offered little comfort as she steeled herself to venture outside.
A knot of worry tightened in Elena's stomach. She needed to contact her mom and siblings, but according to Pinky, her surprisingly helpful laptop, a strong network connection was essential. Unfortunately, the reliable morning connection was now spotty at best.
Despite yesterday's terror, Elena, a devoted reader of novels, found Pinky's explanations surprisingly easy to accept. However, the thought of her family's obliviousness worried her.
Elena stared at Pinky. "You're coming outside with me, aren't you?"
The laptop hovered closer, its metallic voice a low hum. "Checking invincibility ," it announced, the word sounding strangely ominous. "Yes, this will be... effective."
Elena's tone was unexpectedly confident. "All right, let's do this," she said, and Pinky, scanning her as she spoke, emitted a surprised buzz.
As Elena stepped out, she found herself face-to-face with her aunt's property manager. His expression was unfriendly, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "School's in session, isn't it?" he remarked, his tone implying a question. He was gone before Elena could speak. Pinky, closer now, buzzed, "Ely... about your uncle... he can change. He was the wolf. From yesterday." Elena's eyebrows shot up at Pinky's oddly familiar nickname, but the following sentence left her utterly bewildered. "He can change into a wolf?" she echoed, staring at the laptop. "What do you mean?" A wave of nausea washed over Elena as she recalled yesterday's terrifying encounter. Now, Pinky's words made horrifying sense. Shaking her head, she felt a mix of betrayal and confusion. "After turning into a wolf, all he could think to do was attack me? He hates me... but why? What did I ever do?" The bloodstains on the street, the damage to the building's corridors—these grim realities, coupled with Pinky's confirmation, shattered any illusion that yesterday was merely a bad dream. Uncle John's eyes confirmed it: her peaceful life was irrevocably over.
John, the property manager, entered his apartment, his footsteps heavy with barely suppressed fury. He slammed the door, the sound echoing through the quiet building. "Just me and that cursed girl," he growled, his voice low and menacing. "I hope to God nobody saw what I did yesterday."
The footage had to go. His darkest secret couldn't be exposed. A hateful gleam filled his eyes. "Like father, like daughter," he whispered, the words laced with venom. He raced to the monitoring room, only to find the footage already deleted. A strangled roar escaped his lips as his fist pounded the table. "What in God's name is going on?!"
"I can't remember what knocked me out yesterday, and now the footage is gone. But wait—how did that girl get back to her apartment unharmed?"
John awoke to pain, lying injured in the corridor today, Elena, hurt yesterday, was seemingly unscathed. The missing footage was a puzzle, a chilling enigma. He gripped the table, his knuckles white. "Impossible," he hissed. "Only I have access to the system."
The world held its breath. In labs across the globe, scientists worked feverishly, their experiments fueled by a desperate need to understand the energy and its transformative impact. Conclusions were needed—and needed fast. Ignoring school, Elena headed for the city's bustling heart. Crowds surged past her, a vibrant, chaotic tapestry of activity. She weaved through the throngs, her destination unknown, a sense of purpose guiding her steps. The city's energy pulsed around her. Despite the devastating loss of human life in yesterday's global crisis, the city resumed its business as if nothing had happened, a jarring contrast between normalcy and tragedy.
It was Pinky's idea—to scan the city's busy areas for information—and Elena had readily agreed, hence their current location amidst the throngs of people.
Throughout the day, a girl with short hair and an invisible laptop observed the city's transformation. The morning had been typical, but the afternoon brought a horrifying shift. Parts of people's bodies were changing, seemingly at random. The mystery unfolded before her eyes. Fear of the unknown is a primal human instinct, and as the global transformation continued, that fear manifested in horrifying ways. Those untouched by the shapeshifting phenomenon turned on those who were, their panic fueling a wave of brutal, irrational attacks. The streets became battlegrounds, not of monstrous creatures, but of terrified humans lashing out at each other.
Elena, her face pale with dread, watched the chaos escalate. A flash of fire, a deafening roar – each passing second brought fresh horrors. She spun away, desperate to escape, stumbling back towards her apartment, the rusty, abandoned bicycle her only hope. Its wheels groaned a mournful protest with every uneven turn on the cracked pavement, threatening to throw her. She gripped the handlebars tighter, her knuckles white. The weight of the situation pressed down on her, but adrenaline fueled her desperate flight.