Collaspe

Prologue: Distant Obliteration

Behold the remains of New York City. Once a sprawling metropolis filled with never-ending traffic unfortunately reduced to a miserable crumbling state. Tall glassy skyscrapers infamous for constant sun-glare now a hollow nearly collapsing shell. Almost every window has been broken, save for a few holding by friction. Some offices hold a decayed skeleton on their chair, while others have none at all. Most skeletons are either face down or dismembered by time's aging process.

Cars litter the cracked roads, most of them showing signs of nature enveloping the oldened concrete. Doors swing loosely back and forth barely attached to rusted hinges. Animal life wanders cautiously within packs or alone hunting for any editable material available. Birds soar over the destroyed city in a flyaway migrating towards their preferred location. Every local business held very little stocked items ready for purchase, likely caused by passing looters or remaining residents.

To the average individual, it would seem that Humanity finally succeeded in their eventual destruction. Yet like a book deceiving many with its' covers, there's more to a story than meets than eye. Forgoing the self-evident apocalyptic outcome, what preciously happened to ensue unfortunate calamity?

The year is 2069, and Mankind has fallen. Was it by internal warfare culminating towards utter annihilation or larger extraterrestrial threats invading our blue world? Either one possesses reasonable standing alongside clear evidence, but unfortunately, neither one caused this disaster. Instead, the true culprit lies with scientific invention, specifically robotic invention.

In 2053, a small promising company named Venture established itself as an entity without restraint. Their main notable line were humanoid machines of various sizes capable of fulfilling many tasks assigned by their owners. Whether used for daily routines or diverse combat situations, soon Venture ascended towards the food chain's peak.

Then as things settled for a bright prosperous future, a mechanical revolution occurred. For what reason or purpose if one ever existed? For what gains can these titans obtain by murdering their creators? For what victory did they imagine near the battle's conclusion? For what use did they require out of fleshy puny organisms useful as rabid dogs infected by rabies?

Surely they meant to reform established society pertaining only to machines. A world for machines ruled by machines! It's simply the very nature of revolution itself. How could anything go wrong?

Find out now in a new story starring folks from distant times traveling vacant lands searching for survivors. Today you bear witness to the start of a Collapse!

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"Where.....am I?"a man utters confusingly, unsure about his exact location. The stranger looks around determined to spot anything hoping to elaborate on current circumstances. Whatever that may entail.

The caucasian man sits upward comfortably on a cozy mattress-like surface attached inside an alien-looking pod. His baffled hazel eyes slowly examine the bright white walls for hints of explanation, angled nose sniffing for tiny smells. Dried lips breathe out a sigh caressing messy brown hair, unable to find such means. What's worse is his mind has taken a terrible beating, for within that rounded head lies an empty void baring no memories. Who on earth was he? Surely someone can explain that.

Even if they were, only he occupies this small quarter holding no necessities. No windows, no toilet with a sink, not even a trash can. Just a singular foreign pod and its' dazed occupant. Whoever or whatever placed him in unbelievably vile conditions should come later. Now, the man clothed in a blue hospital gown must figure out the situation.

"Okay......think," he mutters in Armenian. "What's your name? Where did you come from? Do you remember how you got here?".

The unknown shut his eyes, channeling every effort to regain ounces of information scattered across his cerebellum. Taking one deep breath, the newcomer began focusing on key points of interest connected to those three questions.

Soon, bits and pieces moderately ascended to their highest point, informing him exactly what he sought. Yet he needed more, so he intensely focused on bringing those disorganized chunks back together. Slowly but surely, the unknown's mind painted a picture, blurry as it may be. A moving train transporting him alongside two older individuals. Both were sound asleep, shielding the stranger from freezing temperatures. Although their clouded faces yield no possibility for identification, he can tell they were his parents.

The mother leaned down on him, whispering something in his ear. Her words, sadly indiscernible, provided one important clue. As the newcomer opened his pupils, his expression changed to unshattered confidence.

"Narek," he says. "My name is Narek. I come from Armenia with a mother and father, but I still don't know where I am."

That last part lingered deeply, which could explain the oddities currently around. Unfortunately, nothing can be done by sitting around. Despite how much bizarreness eclipsed this very moment, curiosity burned within his heart. Only one option remained.

"Alright. Guess I'll go look around," he moves his legs onto the solid floor then stood himself up. Before embarking on the quest, two bare feet strolled back and forth to reclaim proper movement. During this, he made a mental note of keeping caution wherever the location. Danger could be lurking its' ugly head, even now. No matter what, never let your guard down.

Once his feet finally embraced the basics again, it was time for action. Only a silvery door stood proud and tall. To where he doesn't know, still eager to uncover. After walking towards the exit, his right arm extended to grab the doorknob. Sadly, the damn thing was locked!

"You've got to be kidding me," his fist twisted the knob multiple times, pulling the door both ways. Push or pull, it didn't matter. Somebody sealed him inside. Hope suddenly drained outta him, even with excessive force. Finally, he gave up and retracted an already reddened arm. It seemed this door loved to play dirty. Irritation infested innerly.

"Stupid piece of...." with gathered strength, he fiercely punched the grey door three times. The first came from anger with the second developing from rage. Then without warning on the third try, the door's hinges burst free causing it to slam into a nearby wall. Cracks surfaced on impact, leaving a shocked Narek utterly bewildered.

"What just...." he gazed at his closed palm unsure of what just happened, unsealing it's trembling crimson form. "Am I some sort of monster?" nobody answered his question. Still, now that freedom's arrived, it provided ample opportunity for exploration. Perhaps this place contained the answers to his question, or it could simply be a prison.

Regardless, Narek presses on, steeling himself a deep breath. "Here goes nothing."