The End of the World

Seven o'clock in the evening. The sky had not been blue once in the eighty years since the Great Collapse. Clouds mixed with Ash-dust hung low, and below them, Gehenna's power distribution hours ended. Half the city was plunged into darkness. Only two things remained lit: the lights of the Capitol's main street and the electronic billboards. The billboards were everywhere. In the Capitol's plazas, on the crumbling station walls of the occupied districts, on the roofs of distribution centers. The same video looped on the screens. Black letters on a white background — Acheron. Below that, the suppressant distribution schedule, Ash-dust concentration by district, and isolation zone guides. People looked up to check the screens, then looked back down and stood in line. The lines in the plaza were long. Hands holding single ampoules scattered toward the darkness, as the dry late autumn wind carried ash between them.

The Districts were even darker. The billboard in the Western Port District had one broken corner, but the Acheron letters shone perfectly. Below it, a distribution truck entered under the escort of security forces, and beside the truck, Ian shook hands with the district head, smiling with his sleeves rolled up.

At the same time, in the outer containment zone. Warning lights spun red, and Elle, dressed in field gear, led a response team inside the iron gates. Two stretchers came out. One was covered, one was not. Elle looked down at the uncovered one for a moment, then nodded with a kind smile. Whether to save it or use it as a specimen was his decision.

Gehenna's center, Acheron Tower. There was no rationing in the tower. Lights were on every floor, and the glass exterior did not reflect the lines in the plaza. The carpet in the top-floor hallway swallowed footsteps. The CEO's office door opened and Khan stepped out. His tie was already loosened, and his expression was that of someone who had just swallowed something bitter.