Year: 2037 AD
Kael Virek stared out through the glass viewport of the spaceship.
Below him, grotesque cracks spread across the surface of a planet—his planet.
Lava surged through the ruptured crust, devouring oceans and continents alike. Boiling seas vaporized into a dense fog, choking the atmosphere and curling around the disintegrating sphere.
Then it happened. A blinding flash erupted from the planet's core, and in the soundless vacuum of space, Earth shattered like brittle glass.
Kael trembled, heart pounding.
His home—humanity's home—was gone.
One hour earlier.
Without warning, Earth had been struck by an immense burst of unknown radiation. In an instant, the atmosphere disintegrated. Lives were extinguished. Every planet in the solar system reeled as their magnetic fields destabilized, including the sun.
The Earth was yanked from its orbit and drawn toward the sun's gravitational pull. It never stood a chance.
Now, on April 27th, the death of a world was marked by a spectacular celestial explosion. It looked like fireworks. A funeral pyre for a species.
Kael gasped for air in the tiny spacecraft cabin.
He wasn't a general, a scientist, or a political leader. He was just a systems engineer working at an advanced AI startup.
Ironically, that company had partnered with a renowned aerospace firm to build a colossal liquid-fuel rocket, capable of carrying over 420 tons—nearing the limit of physical engineering. Kael had been tasked with final-stage AI debugging for the onboard system.
The rocket's AI core—an advanced system known as Elara—was cutting-edge, offering computational speeds that rivaled low-tier quantum processors. As a core software engineer, Kael had to ensure its reliability.
And then, catastrophe struck.
There had been no warning. Humanity's observational tools couldn't detect threats traveling at light speed.
The ray that annihilated Earth was light.
When it struck, electronics failed across the globe. Somehow—whether by coincidence, malfunction, or miracle—the rocket launched. Kael, still inside, was thrown into space. Alone.
"Am I… the only one left?"
He sat there, shaking, lungs struggling against the cabin pressure. The rocket's launch had taken a toll on his body—he had no astronaut training.
Then the dim interior flickered to life.
The worst had passed. For now.
"Was that… a gamma-ray burst?" he muttered. "Please let the electronics be intact…"
He'd powered down everything at the moment of impact, a reflex to protect the system. Most of the ship's components had been offline. Maybe—just maybe—some had survived.
He pressed the red ignition switch.
A low hum filled the room. Consoles lit up. Elara's core display came online.
He sighed in relief. The worst positioning imaginable had somehow worked in his favor—Earth had taken the full impact, shielding him from the direct blast.
The navigation system confirmed the trajectory: Mars. The rocket had been designed for a colonization test flight.
"Hi, Elara."
A clear, artificial voice responded in the silence.
"How can I help you?"
Kael nearly smiled. Elara was operational. That alone felt like a miracle.
As the most advanced AI ever created, Elara possessed a vast reservoir of human knowledge and real-time computational power. She was a walking encyclopedia—and now, his only companion.
"Calculate the probability that anyone else survived."
He still held on to hope. Maybe someone, somewhere…
"Analyzing…"
"Estimated probability of life surviving on Earth, excluding you: 0.0000000000272%."
"This was not a simple gamma-ray burst. It carried characteristics of ultra-high-energy cosmic rays, with particle energy levels exceeding 10,000 EeV."
"Gravitational anomalies have also been detected. It is highly probable that Earth's core experienced internal collapse, contributing to its rapid destruction. Even if biological life briefly survives, no rescue is possible."
Elara's voice was calm—mechanical, almost cold.
It made Kael's chest tighten.
"What about the space station? Any astronauts?"
"Attempting signal transmission…"
"No response."
"No satellites or objects detected in Earth's low orbit. It is likely the energy burst caused all orbital systems to fail and crash into the planet."
Kael felt the breath leave his lungs.
He was alone.
Utterly, completely alone.
He sat in silence, thoughts drifting to the people he'd known—friends, family, lovers, enemies—snuffed out in a flash of light. His eyes burned, but no tears came.
More than an hour passed.
His voice was dry when he finally spoke: "Elara, analyze the feasibility of migrating to Mars."
The Red Planet had always been humanity's dream escape. Maybe now, it was his only shot.
But Elara's answer was brutal.
"Based on current solar activity and orbital predictions, the Moon will be pulled toward Earth by gravitational irregularities within 28 years."
"This collision will cause further fragmentation of Earth's debris, accelerating its fall toward the sun."
"When planetary remnants impact the solar surface, it will trigger a hyper-class solar storm. The resulting shockwaves and magnetic distortion will engulf the heliosphere."
"The surface temperature on Mars will rise to over 500°C within weeks. Mars may also be drawn into the sun."
"The solar system is undergoing catastrophic reformation."
Kael's heart sank. Even Mars—even Mars—wouldn't survive.
He stared into the vastness of space.
So what now?
If the solar system was dying, there was only one place left to look.
The stars.
He whispered, "Proxima Centauri?"
"Generating navigational route to Proxima Centauri b…"
"Distance: 4.22 light-years."
"Current velocity: 20.3 km/s."
"Estimated travel time: 62,365 years."
Kael blinked.
Sixty thousand years?
He wasn't an astrophysicist—just an engineer. He'd known Proxima was close, but not that close. Or that far.
Apparently, the rocket's current velocity had been boosted by the energy wave from Earth's destruction. Normally, it cruised at just 13 km/s. Even with the unexpected burst, it was nowhere near fast enough for interstellar travel.
By the time he reached Proxima Centauri—if he ever did—nothing would remain of him. Not even his atoms.
"…How much time can be saved with an optimal route?"
"Calculating… If gravitational assists are executed near Jupiter and Neptune, velocity can be increased to 35.4 km/s. Estimated travel time: 35,764 years."
Still hopeless.
It had taken humanity just over ten thousand years to evolve from cave-dwelling tribes to the digital age. And now he needed three times that just to reach another world.
Kael leaned back, silent.
Then Elara spoke again.
"Since humans lack lifespans exceeding multiple millennia, I recommend transforming the spacecraft using available metals after entering the asteroid belt."
Kael's eyes narrowed.
"What kind of plan are you suggesting?"
"Initiating long-range survival protocol. Stand by. Plan generation in progress…"