Why wait for salvation when you can save yourself
Why despair when you know your fate?
Why put your faith in others, in something, when you are enough?'
'Why? You ask, our ontology has always been that way'
'We are human after all'
Carrying a sleek leather backpack, Adam Croft walked briskly, hugging his thick woolen gray jacket tight to keep out the encroaching cold. He moved with purpose, occasionally glancing at the watch strapped to his left wrist. Five minutes later, he arrived at a mansion secluded from the other residences in town. Unlike the others, this one had no Christmas lights or trees, nor any signs of occupancy. It was also far larger than the biggest building in town.
Opening the gates with an obsidian card, Adam stepped into the sprawling grounds and headed to the main door. After keying in a set of codes and swiping the card through a slot by the massive opaque glass door, it swung open, closing softly behind him.
Within five minutes of entering, he had dropped his jacket on a sofa in the foyer, grabbed a wine bottle from the cellar, and made his way to the office room. Sipping wine slowly from a glass, he placed his backpack on the large, ornate chocolate-colored table, accidentally scattering a few expensive decorations. Dropping into the plush chair behind the table, he checked his watch, then unzipped the bag. From it, he retrieved an antiquated square box. Unlatching the clasps on either side, he revealed a padded interior cradling a crystal helmet.
Adam carefully removed the helmet, turning it over in his hands as he admired the culmination of five years of work. He had named it the Psi Bridge, a tool that enabled him enhanced spatial senses and perform minor telekinesis and telepathy. The tool only worked if the individual already possessed these abilities, no matter how weak, and Adam Croft had refined his skills for five years. Its design bore some resemblance to Melania's helm from a popular game franchise released the previous year. However, instead of wings, it featured a semicircular crystal tube connecting one side of the helmet to the other. The joint contained a mercury-like liquid that shifted colors depending on the light. As he watched the liquid's mesmerizing hues, a flood of memories surged in his mind—memories he promptly suppressed with sheer willpower.
After another glance at his watch, Adam fitted the helmet onto his head and closed his eyes. But instead of darkness, his vision expanded. He saw with startling clarity—dimensions, spatial orientations, and the precise locations of every object within the mansion and even a little beyond. Yet, this was just the surface of what the Psi Bridge enabled him to do.
Focusing on a specific location in the mansion, Adam directed his attention to a massive supercomputer server. Its upgraded components stood out instantly in his enhanced perception. Mentally, he flipped switches and connected cables to the machine—all within seconds. The server hummed softly, its pitch barely audible. Five miles away, a similar machine in an abandoned building powered up. At intervals of five kilometers, other machines followed suit, coming online until they reached the heart of New York City.
After activating the network, Adam delved deep into his mind. The swirling darkness seemed ready to engulf him as he ventured toward its depths. Suddenly, he spotted it—a semi-transparent bubble enclosing a deep region of what he called his mindscape, the imaginary space within his mind where he conducted visualization exercises. Extending into the surrounding void was a delicate cord of light, the raw psychic manifestation of the Psi Bridge. This connection allowed him to achieve extraordinary feats, beyond what he could do without the tool, linking his physical brain to realms beyond his mental prison—or so he believed.
Willing his consciousness closer, Adam arrived instantaneously at the bubble's surface. His consciousness always took the form of a vapor-like humanoid, but years of practice had allowed him to condense this form into something resembling his physical body. Where he had once been barely a meter tall, he now towered at five meters, with eyes blazing molten gold.
He stretched out a giant hand and pressed it against the bubble. Straining with all his might, he caused a slight deformation—spanning about 500 meters around the point of contact. Yet, compared to the bubble's circumference of ten kilometers, this was minuscule. As soon as he withdrew his hand, the bubble sprang back to its original form. Five years of relentless practice had brought progress, but it wasn't enough. Not yet. But after tonight, none of that would matter. So, he waited.
9:59 PM
The machine deep within the mansion began to hum louder, arcs of electricity dancing across its outlets. Its frequency climbed beyond the range of human hearing. Across America, its replicas mirrored these actions. Meanwhile, Adam's body remained motionless, breathing softly, as his consciousness stayed elsewhere.
10:00 PM
The machines resonated in unison. A tremor rippled through the air nationwide—a subtle but profound shift in the natural order. Those attuned to such phenomena noticed immediately. Both AC and DC power grids failed simultaneously, as though snuffed out by divine will. But this was no divine act—it was Adam Croft who plunged three countries into darkness.
Following the blackout came a dreadful sound, like glass shattering, amplified a thousandfold. Above the planet, reality itself fractured. The inhabitants of Earth gazed upward in disbelief, their minds struggling to comprehend the impossible sight: a beautiful yet menacing rift in the sky, its jagged edges flickering with eldritch energy. Tendrils of darkness coiled out like smoke, but within that void lay the faint glimmer of stars—or perhaps something far more sinister.
Every major power dialed whatever buttons they could, desperate to understand exactly what was happening as panic settled across the globe. As suddenly as the crack opened, it closed reluctantly.
While countries were plunged into total darkness, the mansion Adam occupied retained its flickering, inconsistent light—resisting the widespread blackout.
In the recesses of Adam's mind, the moment the fracture occurred, the bubble lost its luster and thickness. This was the opportunity he had been anticipating.
Although he had no idea of what his actions had done to reality itself, he knew the task he was embarking on required a substantial amount of energy—energy he was willing to do anything to obtain.
Opening his previously shut eyes, he transformed his hands into wickedly sharp pickaxes and struck the membrane. It resisted momentarily but, as if lacking something, it shattered effortlessly, breaking into countless floating shards.
As the bubble's fragments dissolved into the void, a brilliant light emerged from within—so bright it consumed the shards and then devoured the surrounding darkness.
The last thing Adam saw was light.