BLACK SCREEN. Absolute silence. Then—faint static. A deep hum echoes in the void, vibrating through speakers like a distant heartbeat.
"April 17, 2197 – Earth's Final Days"
The letters glitch slightly, flickering like a dying transmission. Then—BOOM! The screen erupts into a cosmic shot of Earth, wounded and breaking apart.
THE DYING EARTH
Earth seen from space. Its once-blue atmosphere is now scarred with quantum storms. Fires spread across continents. The planet is bleeding.
A shattered metropolis. The skyline is broken. Skyscrapers collapse in slow motion as gravity itself distorts. Lightning crackles, but it's not normal lightning—it's purple, rippling like water.
People run through the ruins. Evacuation ships launch from underground bases, their thrusters glowing red-hot. A massive World Space Council (WSC) building broadcasts its final message on a giant holographic screen.
THE FINAL BROADCAST
A SHAKY TRANSMISSION plays on cracked monitors. A terrified news anchor fights to keep his voice steady.
NEWS ANCHOR (fading in and out):
"…This is Earth's last transmission… The quantum instability has spread beyond control… (static)… The evacuation window closes in twenty-four hours… The WSC has yet to confirm whether the classified ECHO-1 mission is humanity's final hope…"
The screen flickers violently. Then—BLACKOUT.
THE SIGNAL FROM EDEN-7
FADE IN:
An underground lab, deep beneath the ruins. Dim blue lights flicker. Dr. Liora Kael, a quantum physicist, sits alone. Her face is pale, reflecting the green glow of an ancient waveform on a cracked screen.
A single radio signal plays through the speakers—NOT FROM EARTH. It's deep, resonant, almost… alive.
Liora leans in, heart pounding. The waveform distorts… then stabilizes… and then—a voice.
UNKNOWN TRANSMISSION (translated):
"You are not alone. Find us before it is too late..."
Liora's hands tremble. She presses RECORD. Her voice is barely a whisper.
LIORA:
"This… This changes everything."
The screen fades to black. The transmission crackles into silence. And then—
BLACK SCREEN. Silence. A distant hum—deep, cosmic, vibrating through the void.
The camera slowly moves through deep space. Stars shimmer like ancient fireflies. A faint pulse echoes, growing louder. A celestial storm brews in the darkness.
Suddenly—A FIERY EYE OPENS.
It is on the forehead of a colossal cosmic being—a figure suspended in the void. The flames swirl within the eye, resembling a supernova collapsing into itself.
The eye stares, unblinking—watching.
As it widens, a whisper reverberates through space, a voice so ancient it feels woven into the fabric of time itself.
The flames explode outward, consuming the screen. In the fire, letters begin to form—burning, glitching, merging.
O B L I V I O N X
The fire fades, leaving only the letters—glowing in the dark.
ORION'S FINAL LOG (THE FUTURE, ONBOARD THE SHIP.)
BLACK SCREEN. A faint, rhythmic beep—steady, mechanical, like a heartbeat in deep space.
A dark spacecraft interior—cold, metallic. A dim red light pulses. The camera drifts past floating droplets of water, frozen mid-air, shimmering in low gravity.
A figure sits alone in the cockpit, weightless. His face is worn, hollow—Commander Orion Vale. He stares at the camera, recording a message. His voice is calm, but beneath it, something cracks—an unspoken grief.
ORION VALE (whispering, tired):
"If anyone hears this... Earth is gone. We are the last."
He exhales, the condensation vanishing into the air. His eyes flicker toward a small pendant floating beside him—a picture of a woman. He reaches for it, but before his fingers touch—
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
A sharp ALARM cuts through the silence.
Suddenly—the ship shudders. The lights flicker. Something is wrong.
A shadow passes by the cockpit window—but they are in deep space. There should be nothing there.
EARTH, TWO MONTHS EARLIER (THE FINAL EVACUATION)
BOOM—A blinding white light engulfs the screen.
FADE IN: Earth, 2197. The world is breaking apart.
The skies churn with violent quantum storms—massive vortexes of energy swallowing entire cities. Buildings crumble into nothingness, reduced to dust before they even hit the ground. The oceans boil. Lightning rips the sky apart.
In the distance, ARK-17, Earth's last evacuation ship, prepares for launch at The Exodus Station.
Inside the command center, chaos reigns. Scientists, military officers, and refugees rush through corridors, shouting orders and desperate prayers.
At the center of it all, Dr. Liora Kael, a quantum physicist, stares at a distorted signal on a holographic screen. It loops endlessly—a single word in Sanskrit: "Pralaya."
DR. LIORA KAEL (muttering):
"The end of an age…"
Beside her, Orion tightens his grip on the launch keycard. His jaw clenches.
ORION VALE:
"Liora, we don't have time for this. We launch—NOW."
DR. LIORA KAEL (desperate):
"No. Listen to me. That signal—it's not random. Something is waiting for us out there."
Before he can answer—
BOOM. An explosion shakes the station.
Outside, the sky rips open. A massive energy rift forms—not a storm, something else. The very fabric of space fractures, and through the tear, something... watches.
BACK TO THE PRESENT (SOMETHING IS WRONG)
FADE IN: Orion's ship, deep space.
The alarm still blares. Orion grips the control panel, checking the screens. The star map is glitching. Coordinates—gone. They are lost.
He takes a shaky breath, then looks out the cockpit window. His pupils contract.
There—beyond the ship, floating in the void—is Earth.
Perfect. Unbroken. Like it never died.
But Orion knows the truth. Earth is gone. It was consumed.
His breathing quickens.
ORION VALE (whispering):
"This… isn't real."
A shadow moves across the window.
FADE TO BLACK.
TO BE CONTINUED…