A low, gut, rumbling thrum vibrated through the derelict building, shaking dust from the cracked ceiling. Not the familiar groan of settling decay, this was deeper, more resonant, penetrating Luke’s fitful sleep. For an instant, the vibration seemed out of phase, a double beat shaking the walls. His eyes snapped open, heart hammering against his ribs. Ships . Big ones. He scrambled into his worn clothes, adrenaline washing away the dregs of sleep. He burst outside, sprinting through the skeletal remains of streets, the thrumming growing louder, shaking the very air. He dodged rubble, his breath tearing in his throat, the pounding in his chest echoing the approaching ships. A collapsed support beam lay across his path, he ducked under it, and for a nauseating second, the corroded metal seemed to shimmer, existing simultaneously here and a foot to the left, before snapping back into solidity. It had to be! Only one reason for ships this size. The Initiative!

  He skidded into the main square just as the colossal hovercraft settled, blotting out the weak sun. They didn’t just block the light; they seemed to devour it, the air around their hulls shimmering with heatless distortion. Wind whipped dust into choking clouds that swirled in impossible, fleeting geometries. ”Clear the space! Package prepped for drop!” The voice boomed from unseen speakers, syllables overlapping, echoing from points that weren’t there. A deafening snap reverberated as cables released, and a massive, tear-drop object of polished, unnerving silver plummeted point first into the earth. The ground bucked, throwing Luke off balance. The Tear settled, half buried, radiating a subtle wrongness, the light bending around its smooth surface like water around a stone. ”Citizens! Rejoice! The Shadowed Dawn Initiative… completed! First one hundred Linking Platforms… ready!” The fragmented announcement, struggling against the reality static, ignited the crowd. A raw, desperate roar erupted – cheers, screams, sobs blending into a physical wave of sound that battered Luke, the sheer force of released hope a terrifying spectacle.

  Joy surged through Luke, a blinding flash, instantly extinguished by the icy grip of realization. The Fare. It didn’t matter. Not for him. His legs gave out, strength draining as if reality itself was pulling the plug. He hit the dusty ground, curling instinctively, the roar of the crowd fading to a meaningless buzz. I’m Going to die. The thought wasn’t future tense anymore. It was now. A certainty that made the edges of his vision swim, the cheering figures blurring into indistinct, wavering shapes. No time. No credits. No escape. Flashes assaulted him: choking on toxic air, skin blistering under a relentless sun, the cold void of radiation sickness, the gnawing hunger that never ended… each potential end flickered, sharp and real, before dissolving into the next. The broken world wasn’t just crumbling; it was offering him previews of the inevitable. Panic seized his lungs, breath coming in ragged, useless gasps. His body trembled, slick with cold sweat. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the predatory stillness he sometimes sensed lurking just beyond the failing sky, the vast hunger waiting in the dark.

  A hand on his shoulder shook him from his thoughts, the touch startlingly solid. Jason. The touch was an anchor, pulling the fraying edges of Luke’s perception back into focus. “Luke, breathe. Look at me.” Jason’s voice was tight, strained, but held a core of forced calm that somehow cut through the panic. “It’s… it’ll be okay. Promise.” How could he know? But Jason’s certainty, however illogical, was a lifeline. Luke nodded numbly, letting Jason pull him to his feet, stumbling closer to the silver Tear where a corporate Rep stood bathed in its unnatural light.

  ”The first one hundred… The Forerunners!” the Rep shouted, voice layered with strange harmonics, like multiple recordings playing slightly out of sync. ”Filled! Transition begins now! Enter… a new dimension! Risks… yes! But death… merely a steppingstone! Years of work… fabricated reality… return… greatness!” The broken promises hung in the air, each word seeming to warp reality slightly. The announcers voice kept was hard to hear, warped by whatever the building was doing the the frayed reality. Fabricated reality? Death a steppingstone? It sounded less like salvation and more like a terrifying experiment.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  ”The Credit exchange is active!” the voice continued, pitching higher, straining. ”Resources needed! Send back what you find… earn credits! Help loved ones! Contribute!” Hope flickered again, weak but persistent. Did he hear that right? Could those sent over, the Forerunners, help those left behind? Maybe… maybe someone… could help him?

  He saved the thought and continued listening to the Rep. “I will begin reading names off in order. If your name is chosen, please step forward. We haven’t time to waste. You will begin the transition immediately.” Without further preamble the Rep began reading off names in a loud, clipped voice. Each name seemed sharp and clear against the background hum of the platform and the murmuring crowd.

  ”John Stagg… Robert Craig… Juliet Howe…” Each name was a hammer blow, extinguishing another flicker of impossible hope. Luke stood frozen, watching the chosen ones detach themselves from the crowd, their forms seeming to shimmer and thin as they approached the Tear’s entrance. The lucky ones. Mechanics, doctors, hydroponic specialists… useful skills. Not factory drones like him. He was surplus. Expendable.

  *”Ingrid Kellen… Peter Warren…” Five left. Why was he even listening? He should leave, crawl back to his hovel, conserve energy for the inevitable… but his feet were lead.

  ”Brennan Mallin… Thera Kallon…” He vaguely recognized Thera from the food lines, her face always set with grim determination. Good for her.

  *”Kendrick Orrin… Jeremy Imula…”* One name left. The air crackled, the light from the Tear seemed to intensify, distorting the faces around him.

  ”…and last… Luke Rennoka!”

  The name sliced through the noise, through the static fuzzing the edges of reality. It hit him like a physical shock. No. It couldn’t be. His ears were playing tricks, the world glitching again. He looked wildly around, searching for another Luke.

  “Go on my boy!” Jason’s voice, thick with unshed tears, broke through Luke’s shock. A broad, painful smile stretched Jason’s face, pride warring with grief. For a heartbeat, Jason’s form flickered, overlaid with an image of Irara standing beside him, her expression mirroring his.

  “How?” Luke choked out, the single word encompassing everything.

  Jason didn’t answer, just shouted, “He’s here!” Two Reps all but materialized beside Luke, their grips firm, their touch feeling strangely distant, like static discharge. “Time to go, Rennoka.”

  As they steered him towards the shimmering entrance of the Tear, the impossible truth slammed into Luke with the force of a physical blow. The fare. Jason. Irara. Their savings… He twisted, looking back desperately, scanning the sea of faces. *Jason!* He wasn’t there. “Jason!” Luke screamed, fighting against the Reps’ implacable grip as the doorway loomed. “I’ll get you across! You and Irara! I promise! I’ll find a way! JASON!”

  The door slid shut, cutting off his voice, the sound swallowed by the Tear’s reality bending hum.

  Miles away, Jason leaned back against the cold rock, watching the silver dome pulse against the bruised sky. Peace settled over him, profound and quiet. He’d made the choice. Done the right thing. He closed his eyes, feeling the thin veil between worlds tremble. Some sacrifices weigh heavy, he thought, some light as a feather. When he opened his eyes, the tranquility remained, but beneath it, the memory of that vast, observing darkness beyond the sky lingered, a silent witness to his choice.