Inside a high-security office deep within the titanium-reinforced walls of Emox, General Bola, Eimear, and Miss Ali sat facing each other in heavy, suffocating silence. The air was thick with unspoken grief and blistering tension.
Abruptly, Eimear surged to her feet, her voice trembling with a lifetime of pent-up fury.
"Why, Bola? Why do we play God, sending children to the Wasteland knowing the chances of them coming back are thinner than a thread?" she demanded, tears flashing in her eyes. "Why do we subject the innocent to false dreams? They say put yourself in people's shoes, but we were in those shoes once, and now we choose to make them feel the very same agony we endured. Parents believe Emox is the sanctuary where children reach the sky—yet we manufacture the monsters, we send beasts to the human cities just to bleed them, and we manipulate traumatized kids the second they manifest power! This world is dark, and it's not dark because of the Unknown—it's because of us, Bola. Because of you. We lie to them. Everything is a lie! Nobody knows what to do, but we keep sending them to that hell."
Bola remained seated, motionless and unnervingly calm. Instead of answering Eimear, his dark, heavy gaze shifted across the table to Miss Ali.
"Years ago, we lived in paradise compared to the nightmare we endure today," Bola began, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "Man and woman worked because they wanted to, not because survival demanded it. The world was overflowing with greenery; technology was a choice, and wars were man-made, not entity-made. Love and sorrow existed, but we didn't carry the weight of a dying planet on our spines, channeling past trauma just to survive the present. But it all changed when the Unknown arrived."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the steel table. "The Wasteland used to be the size of a single city. Now, half of the earth is swallowed, and it keeps expanding. Families, babies—touched by the Wasteland—turn into abominations, spirits, walking anomalies. The so-called blessing of the Unknown keeps us from being instantly erased, but it's a cruel joke. The Wasteland views us as fellow waste, skipping over us just to torment us slowly. And you ask why I send the kids, Eimear?"
Bola dragged his chair closer, staring deep into her burning eyes.
"Because I am starting to agree with my son. Yes. Maybe nihilism is the only logical path left. Out of every student we ever deployed, we were the only ones who found our way back. We never found the core, the source of destruction, or the bridge to the land of the Unknown. All we achieved was an expensive excursion, a handful of stories, and the hollow title of Survivors of the Waste. And you ask why I send them? Because with all my power and all your power, we still don't know what we are fighting. Sure, we maintain a fragile balance between the monsters and humanity—but by the end of this year, the Wasteland will finally cover 51 percent of the earth. That tips the scales for good. When that happens, we have a few short years before humanity goes extinct or dwindles down to twenty percent of our original population."
He paused, letting the crushing weight of the statistics settle over the room. "Unless a savior finds the source of the Unknown, or... the Unknown itself. And the only way left is humanity's original, brutal solution: trial and error, or self-genocide. Just like my son believed—we wipe out humanity before the Wasteland gets the satisfaction of doing it for us."
CRACK.
A sharp, violent slap echoed off the titanium walls as Eimear struck Bola across the face, her voice breaking into a shriek of absolute hysteria.
"YOUR SON?! That bastard who killed my husband? Who murdered his own mother—the only thing left of him now being your grandson Michael, who inherited every drop of his father's poison?! And you sit there and tell me you agree with him?! He is the reason most of our generation didn't make it out! He almost wiped out every living thing in the Wasteland, and now you justify him?! I rebuke you, Bola!"
''SHIFT'' With a flick of his wrist, Bola raised his hand. A kinetic shockwave caught Eimear mid-shriek, sending her flying backward to crash violently against the reinforced wall. She slid to the floor, gasping for air.
"Eimear, do not forget who I am," Bola said softly, his voice dropping to a dangerous, glacial register. "I am quite fond of you. But the truth is simple: Michael is not his father. Michael is Michael, and he is the only real hope we have left. Isn't that right, All-seeing Ali?"
The quiet seer, Miss Ali, slowly nodded.
"Now," Bola continued, standing up and towering over them. "The reason for this meeting is simple. For the first time in history, humanity will be left completely unattended. The three of us are going back to the Wasteland. But this time, we aren't hiding in the shadows. We are going to tell humanity the absolute truth—and give them a choice to join the final expedition."
Eimear and Ali stared at him in horrified disbelief.
"What? No! We can't do that!" Eimear gasped.
Bola raised his hand once more, cutting off any further argument. "It is not a negotiation. I am telling you what will happen. Humanity must know the truth in order to destroy the truth, Eimear. Now, get up. We have an expedition to prepare."
Far away, back in the lethal, silent expanse of the Wasteland...