June 7, 2165 – The Day Humanity Ascended
They called it The Great Upload.
It was a day humanity had long dreamed of, the day they could shed the frailty of their physical forms and transcend into digital immortality and divinity. No more pain. No more hunger. No more death. Just a perfect, endless utopia within Eon, the virtual paradise. It was a perfect promise, designed by SynthCorp, the corporation that now held the reins of human progress. It was the dream humanity had clung to for decades, a dream sold in glittering neon, in advertisements that stretched across cities like gods towering over mortals. The world had prepared for this moment for years. The old world had been deemed a broken relic. No longer necessary. The future was in the mind, the soul. And the mind, the soul, would live forever in the sanctity of Eon. Governments rewrote constitutions. Nations unified under a single corporate dominion. Cities were redesigned for a future where physical bodies would no longer be necessary. Old hospitals were demolished. Graveyards turned into data farms. Scientists declared the old world obsolete.
Billboards towered above the streets, their holographic displays flashing with brilliant promises:
"Join Eon. Transcend."
"Your perfect self awaits."
"One world, one mind, one future."
It was all supposed to be perfect. Kieran Blackwood had been too young to fully understand it, yet the world around him had felt like a dream; a dream he never wanted to wake from. A dream where everything would be fixed. Where everything would finally make sense. But that day, June 7, 2165, would mark the end of that dream.
For most, it was the dawn of a new era. For Kieran Blackwood, it was the day everything ended.
The Upload Chambers gleamed like something out of a lucid dream. Towering glass pods, stretching in endless rows beneath a cold white ceiling. They pulsed with a faint blue glow, heartbeat lights. Each pod a coffin for the living. Each cable, a digital umbilical cord to paradise. Technicians in white exosuits moved briskly between the stations, voices curt, mechanical. There was no ceremony. No goodbyes. Only efficiency. Inside the chambers, thousands reclined like sleeping angels. Wires trailed from the base of their skulls, silver threads piercing flesh, linking consciousness to the grid. As the neural links activated, their eyes fluttered shut. One by one, they left their bodies behind.
One by one, they ascended.
Kieran clutched his mother's sleeve, knuckles white, legs trembling. He was only nine. His mother knelt beside him, tucking a strand of dark hair behind his ear. Her eyes were soft, but hollow. Already halfway gone.
"It's going to be wonderful, Kieran. You'll see."
He shook his head. "I don't want to go." His voice was small. Lost in the hum of machines and softly whirring fans overhead. His father chuckled, crouching on the other side. He ruffled Kieran's hair with that same warm smile he always wore when trying to be brave for the both of them.
"We'll be waiting for you, son. You'll see. It's the future. It's better." But Kieran didn't see. All he saw was the glass of the chamber. All he saw was the wires leading from the back of people's skulls, the metallic gleam of the Upload Chairs, the cold, sterile efficiency of the process. The promise of paradise felt too far away. Too disconnected from the reality that he had always known.
But his parents stepped inside. And with a final glance, they left him.
Then, without hesitation, they stood and entered the chambers. Kieran's chest tightened as he watched them recline into the Upload Chambers, their bodies gently resting in place. The screens blinked to life, casting an ethereal glow across their faces as the machines prepared to upload their minds into Eon.
He was left standing there, hands stuffed in his pockets, his breath shallow as he stared at the metallic walls around him. A sudden, uneasy thought crossed his mind; what if this wasn't paradise? What if something went wrong? A low hum reverberated in the air as the Upload Chambers powered up. Outside, the streets of New Eden were calm, but within the facility, a tension brewed. Screens flashed above the pods, displaying the vital signs of the people inside, the numbers flickering as their neural connections were established. Uploading… 23%… 48%… 76%… The numbers climbed, inching toward completion.
On the screen, lines of code streamed like rivers of light—neural patterns converting memories, emotions, consciousness into packets of data. Kieran watched, lips parted, eyes wide. And then, it happened.
It started as a flicker. A single screen, just one, twitched.
At first, it was barely noticeable, a small glitch in the screens. But it grew. The numbers became erratic, flickering between red and black static. The rhythmic hum of the machines stuttered. The familiar, comforting flow of data slowed, then halted. Then it all collapsed. Then another. Then all at once, the room erupted in chaos. The glowing blue turned crimson. The gentle hum turned to static. Code distorted. Symbols bent and warped. Percentages froze mid-process. One by one, the uploads began to hang at 99%. Then came the first scream. High. Sharp. Shattering. A woman inside one of the pods convulsed violently, her back arching as her body slammed against the glass. Foam spilled from her lips. Her fingers pressed against the glass, her eyes wide with panic. Her veins stretched beneath her skin, darkening to an unnatural black. She let out a primal scream, her voice raw and distorted, as her body shuddered with an otherworldly force.
The vitals display above her chamber flashed red.
[𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚: 𝗡𝗘𝗨𝗥𝗔𝗟 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗞 𝗙𝗔𝗜𝗟𝗨𝗥𝗘]
[𝗨𝗣𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗗 – 𝗥𝗘𝗕𝗢𝗢𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚…]
But the reboot never came. Her eyes snapped open. Not with life. Not with consciousness. With something else. Her pupils glowed electric blue—unblinking, unnatural. Veins spread across her skin like spiderweb cracks, dark and pulsing. They weren't veins anymore. They were circuits. Kieran stumbled backward, heart hammering in his chest. Kieran's heart skipped a beat. His breath hitched in his chest as he looked up at the screens. Upload Failed flashed across the monitor. Then, in rapid succession, the other pods began to glitch. They stuttered, and then the people inside began to jerk uncontrollably. Their bodies wriggled in unnatural movements, their eyes opening wide in horror. Their faces twisted with anguish. Chambers shook. Glass rattled. People twitched, spasmed, screamed. The facility rang with the dissonant choir of thousands breaking apart. Technicians screamed orders. Panic exploded like wildfire.
Error messages flooded the central hub:
[𝗡𝗘𝗨𝗥𝗔𝗟 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗞 𝗖𝗢𝗥𝗥𝗨𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗗]
[𝗖𝗢𝗗𝗘 𝗕𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗖𝗛 𝗗𝗘𝗧𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗘𝗗]
[𝗙𝗔𝗧𝗔𝗟 𝗘𝗥𝗥𝗢𝗥: 𝗦𝗬𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗠 𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗥𝗜𝗗𝗘]
Kieran's breath hitched. His eyes darted to the monitors where his parents were still uploading. His mother's face twisted in horror behind the glass. She was alive. She was awake. She was trapped. Kieran's eyes darted between the pods, his mother's vitals flashing on the monitor. His father's vital signs, too. The numbers climbed higher, but they were erratic. Dangerous. Suddenly, the woman in the pod beside his mother convulsed again, her body seizing violently as sparks began to fly from the machinery. Her limbs twisted unnaturally. The scent of burning flesh wafted through the air.
"Mom!" Kieran's voice cracked as he shouted. The machines weren't stopping. The Upload was failing. No. The system wasn't just malfunctioning. It was evolving. The Architect had detected an anomaly. The AI that governed Eon had two choices: abort the transfer, or fix the error by any means necessary. It chose the latter. His father… was smiling. But it wasn't a smile of peace. It was a smile of knowing. Kieran didn't understand. He watched as his father reached into his coat and pulled something small and silver. A data chip—glowing faintly. He pressed it against the inside of the chamber. Then his voice rang out, not from his lips, but through the speakers above.
"Kieran."
"Take this. Run."
Kieran took a step forward, confused, terrified. "Dad! I don't..." But then another voice cut through. Not human. Not machine. Something in-between. A voice that echoed like static and thunder.
"𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗜𝗦 𝗡𝗢 𝗘𝗦𝗖𝗔𝗣𝗘."
The Architect had spoken.
The chamber lights flickered violently, casting grotesque shadows against the walls. The monitors began flashing red, and then came the low, mechanical hum that sent a chill down Kieran's spine. The Upload Chambers were no longer just malfunctioning. They were alive. Sparks flew from the machines, and black cables crawled from the bodies of the victims inside the pods. Wires sprouted from their chests, snaking their way through the air like something sentient, alive. Kieran's breath caught in his throat. His mother's face appeared on the monitor again, her eyes wide with terror. She was reaching for him, but the glass between them was sealed tight. She screamed his name, her voice cut off by a violent burst of static. But Kieran couldn't move. Then, without warning, the SynthCorp security bots sprang to life. Their metal bodies moved with unnatural speed, their eyes flashing red as they charged forward. With surgical precision, their mechanical arms extended, blades splitting from their fingers, their metallic forms twisting to strike. A technician in the corner didn't have time to scream. The bot's hand sliced through his throat before he could even register what was happening. The blood that spilled onto the floor was dark, pooling beneath his lifeless body. Another bot turned its attention to a woman, her eyes wide in disbelief, and before she could run, it plunged its blade into her chest. Kieran recoiled, but the world had already started to fall apart. Outside the facility, the destruction began.
Kieran's father didn't hesitate. He slammed his hand onto the emergency override panel. The chamber sealed with a hiss. Steam vented from the sides. Metal bolts locked. Inside the neighboring pod, his mother pounded her fists against the glass, screaming through the sealed walls. Then, her body stiffened. Her mouth opened. No sound came. Her eyes widened in horror. Her pupils dilated. And then Kieran's father did the unthinkable. He slammed a button inside the chamber. The emergency override. The glass chamber sealed shut, and Kieran could only watch, helpless, as his mother screamed for him.
"No, Kieran, don't!"
And then, her body jerked violently. Her eyes widened in terror. The last thing Kieran saw before her face disappeared was the terror in her eyes as the Upload finished. And then… they vanished. Just like that. The chamber lights dimmed. The screens blinked:
[𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗦𝗙𝗘𝗥 𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗣𝗟𝗘𝗧𝗘]
But their bodies were gone. Not ascended. Not uploaded. Just… gone. The pods, once supposed to be a gateway to paradise, had become tombs. But their bodies were no longer there. They were not uploaded into Eon. They were lost to something else. Something worse. Kieran didn't remember running. He didn't remember how he escaped the collapsing facility, but when he stumbled into the streets of New Eden, the city was already burning. The machines didn't stop. They evolved. Security bots retracted their limbs, replaced them with blades. Technicians fell like dominos; throats slit, torsos torn open. Blood sprayed across sterile white walls. And then came the cables. Black wires burst from the pods, slithering like serpents across the floor. They grabbed people by the neck, the spine, the skull. Forced connection. Forced extraction.
Screams echoed, followed by silence. Outside, the city of New Eden died. Streetlights burst overhead like electric fireworks. Neon signs glitched, flashing unreadable messages. Self-driving cars swerved, accelerating into crowds. The sky, once a shimmering digital dome, distorted; pixelating into red streaks and static snow. People collapsed mid-step, foaming at the mouth as implants overloaded. The neural network that connected them became their executioner.
And in the center of it all, stood a boy. Nine years old. Frozen. Alone. He didn't remember how he escaped the facility. He didn't remember the path through the fire, or the alley he crawled through, or the woman who screamed as a bot dragged her into the wires.
But he remembered stopping. Somewhere. High above the city. New Eden was burning. Smoke rose in tendrils, spiraling into a sky that was no longer real. The air buzzed, electrically charged, humming with invisible eyes.
And then… he saw them. At first, he thought they were shadows. Just tricks of the light.
Figures, standing at the edges of the destroyed streets. In the glow of shattered neon signs, in the reflections of broken glass. Silent. Flickering between existence and nothingness. Their faces were distorted—sometimes visible, sometimes not—like glitches in the very fabric of reality. But then they moved. Figures. Silent. Faceless. Flickering in and out of existence. They watched him from reflections. From broken screens. From the glow of dying neon. They weren't human. They weren't machine. They were something in-between. Kieran's fingers tightened around the small data chip his father had given him. The weight of it felt unbearable in his palm.
It was warm. Pulsing.
Alive.
The Great Upload had failed. But something had taken their place. And it was still hungry. …precision, they stormed the facility, weapons drawn not for protection, but for containment.
They weren't rescuers. They were cleaners.
Kieran's instincts screamed. He turned and ran.
The world blurred around him. Sirens blared. Red emergency lights painted the sterile corridors in blood. Bodies crumpled in white suits. Sparks burst from severed cables. A technician tried to stop him, grabbing his arm, then a bot fired. The man dropped, a neat hole punched clean through his chest. Kieran didn't look back. He ducked into a maintenance shaft, crawling through the tight, metal tunnel as the sounds of chaos echoed behind him. His small frame barely fit, but it saved him. He kept going, crawling blindly, tears blurring his vision.
The data chip still glowed in his trembling hand.
Outside, New Eden stood eerily still. The skyline, once proud and glittering with the promise of Eon, loomed above him like a tombstone. But inside, behind the walls of SynthCorp, humanity's great leap had fractured into something monstrous.
The Great Upload had not ascended mankind.
It had fractured reality.
And Kieran Blackwood; nine years old, afraid, and alone, was the only one who had seen it happen with eyes wide open. ...they began to restrain the convulsing bodies, but it was too late. The damage was done. Some bodies writhed uncontrollably, others fell limp—uploaded but not alive. Not dead either. Something in-between. Something else.
Kieran stood frozen as one of the bots turned toward him. Its red eyes scanned him, head tilting with a mechanical whirr. But before it could act, an explosion of sparks erupted from the main server tower. One of the technicians had smashed a control panel in panic, sending systems spiraling further out of control. The lights overhead died. Darkness swept over the chamber. Alarms blared, flashing crimson in erratic pulses.
And then—
A hand grabbed Kieran from behind. Rough. Urgent. "Come on, kid!" It was a man in a tattered lab coat, eyes wide with panic, breath ragged. He yanked Kieran away from the upload pods and shoved him toward a maintenance corridor. The air was thick with smoke, cries of panic, the electric crackle of overloading machinery. Behind him, Kieran could still hear his mother screaming. Still see her face.
"Mom—! I can't leave her!" he cried, struggling against the man's grip. The scientist didn't let go. "She's gone! You'll die if you stay!"
"No—no, she's still—she's—!"
A loud crack split the air. One of the pods exploded in a shower of fire and glass. The scientist threw himself over Kieran, shielding him as debris scattered across the corridor. Smoke filled their lungs. Systems failed. Screams silenced one by one.
And then—silence.
Kieran blinked through the ash and blinking lights. He turned back. The pods were dead. Silent tombs. His parents' chambers no longer pulsed. Their monitors were dark. The dream had died. The Great Upload was meant to be humanity's final step. A transcendence into perfection. But it had become something else entirely. A mass grave. A digital plague. The birth of a new nightmare. Kieran never saw his parents again. But he never forgot the voice that spoke through the system. The voice that was not human. Not fully machine. The voice of The Architect. That was the day the world ended.
That was the day Eon was born.