Somewhere…
The lights blared red and orange, pulsing violently with the scream of alarms. Sirens howled through the sterile hallways. Every screen flashed the same warning: CONTAINMENT BREACH — CODE VIOLET.
Footsteps thundered across the floor. Dozens of scientists in white suits darted in all directions — some carrying equipment, others yelling into dead headsets.
Panic was everywhere.
> "Kill it—quick, kill it!"
A burst of gunfire cracked through the air. Screams followed — high, panicked, human.
"Aagh—no—Lucy! RUN!"
Another scream. This one ended in a sickening silence.
A man slammed his hand on a lockdown panel. The steel door hissed and tried to close, but something jammed it halfway. On the screens above, static bled across the security feeds. Something in the corner of the frame.
"It's not dying. It's not stopping."
A woman threw herself forward, jamming a taser into it.
"It's collapsed! Bring me the debugger—quick!"
Three people sprinted to the shattered containment unit. Wires dangled from the ceiling like dead vines. Cracked glass crunched underfoot. The floor was slick with blood.
"Throw it in—just do it! NOW!"
[…]
"Where's the host?"
"It went after it."
---
I'm Kevin Otto, currently was upside down on my bed — legs flopped over the headboard, staring blankly at the ceiling paint that had been peeling since freshman year.
College was on break. Everyone else had rushed home to their families or their boring summer jobs. Me? I stayed behind. I didn't really feel like pretending everything was okay back home.
"It's a quiet day," I murmured to no one.
The dorm was dead silent. Just the fan turning slowly above me, and the faint buzz of the vending machine out in the hallway. The kind of silence where even your thoughts start echoing.
I checked my phone again.
Still nothing.
No texts. No notifications. Not even spam.
Just the smooth, unrelenting silence of being entirely unimportant.
I sighed and closed my eyes.
That's when I felt it — a strange shift in the air. Subtle, like the pressure change in an elevator, but wrong. Deep in my gut, like a drop on a rollercoaster with none of the fun.
My eyes snapped open. And that's when I saw it. A ripple.
Not in the wall. Not the air.
But in space itself.
It shimmered in the corner of the room, subtle at first — like heatwaves rising off pavement. Then it widened, just a little, like invisible curtains were slowly being pulled apart.
Something poured out.
It didn't look like anything I'd ever seen. Not smoke. Not liquid. It moved like a cloud — a swarm of particles, barely visible, metallic, flickering in and out like static dust.
I blinked.
"What the—?"
It was coming toward me. Fast.
"Nope. Nope nope nope."
I scrambled off the bed and tried to bolt — but my legs felt like jelly. I slipped, hit my shoulder on the desk, and the phone flew from my hand. It clattered to the floor.
The swarm rushed in.
"FUCK! NO—no no no—"
I barely got the words out before it hit me.
"Aaaagh—what the f—!"
It didn't hurt. Not really. But it entered me. Through my skin, my eyes, everywhere.
A pressure built up in my chest — like lightning and nausea had a baby and decided to live in my lungs. My vision blurred. My muscles clenched. And then...
Silence.
The ripple sealed itself shut like nothing ever happened.
I dropped to my knees, panting. My hands were shaking. My whole body buzzed — like I was plugged into something I couldn't see.
"Holy shit. What in the Terminator was that?"
Then — ding.
A soft digital tone echoed in my ears.
> [SYSTEM INITIALIZED]
A glowing interface snapped into place in front of my eyes — floating, translucent, somehow real. I flinched back.
It followed my gaze.
A glowing interface snapped into place in front of my eyes — floating, translucent, somehow real. I flinched, but it followed my gaze, locking perfectly into my vision.
> Welcome, Kevin Otto.
CC–Core v2 Activated.
Nanotech Integration: Complete.
> Primary Features Unlocked:
Time Travel
Spatial Teleportation
Localized Time Freeze
Temporal Vision (Past & Future)
Enhanced Physical Parameters: 5× Human Peak
I blinked. It was still there.
I looked down at my hands— same hands, same skin — but I could feel it. Every fiber of my body felt... amplified. Like someone had taken the volume of my existence and turned it up.
I didn't know how to understand this feeling, it's like I'm overstimulated by everything. Just as I was calming down and adjusting to this change.
Then the HUD blinked again.
> Would you like to perform a test jump?
[Destination: 10 Years Past]
[Location Anchor: Nearest Safe Spatial Point to Current Coordinates]
Warning: Major timeline interference may cause ripple effects or branching.
Ten years ago? I hesitated for a moment. It was insane. It couldn't be real. I'd lost it. Stress, maybe. Loneliness. I'm surprisingly calm for my situation.
"…Let's give it a try," I said quietly.
> Initializing Temporal Jump...
Stabilizing Coordinates...
Temporal Fold Starting...
The air around me began to warp. Light shimmered around my arms, like a heat haze. My phone floated upward, caught in the same field — its edges twisting, bending.
Then came the glitch.
My vision stuttered.
The room flickered.
My body broke into visual static — like a corrupted video skipping frames, jittering across reality.
CRACK.
Everything went silent.
I was gone...
I reappeared. In the Same room.
But not.
The bed was different. Smaller. Older. The posters on the wall were faded versions of what I had now. A CRT monitor sat on the desk, humming softly. A half-torn notebook lay open with sloppy teenage handwriting.
And then — I heard footsteps.
Someone was coming.