Everything began on a Monday morning, as I was leaving work.
Up until that day, I was a calm man. A teacher. I had always been incurably curious; natural phenomena fascinated me, and I needed to understand the reason behind everything. However, my curiosity was never reckless. I always believed that asking too many questions was pointless if you didn't know when to stop.
Throughout my life, I had only two great loves. The first was reading—I couldn't imagine my existence without books. The second was physics, a passion so deep that it ultimately defined who I was.
But when I became a teacher, I discovered a third love—one I never would have expected.It wasn't teaching.It wasn't watching my students grow.It was bothering them.
On one occasion, while administering an exam, I told them I needed to step out for a moment to use the restroom. What they didn't know, as they quietly passed answers among themselves, was that I had installed a hidden camera in the classroom before they arrived. I watched everything from my phone. When I returned, I failed them all for cheating.
They were outraged. Some of them hated me.I, on the other hand, felt satisfied.
I always believed that a teacher doesn't just pass on knowledge, but also prepares students for life. And life does not reward naivety.
However, as I left work laughing to myself, I forgot an essential truth: life also teaches… and it does so without mercy.
That day, I learned that crossing the street while distracted is dangerous.And that a truck driven by someone talking on their phone without watching the road is a death sentence.
Even so, perhaps what seems like our end isn't an end at all. Maybe it's just the doorway to something else.
Because when my body was left behind and my soul began to drift away, something impossible happened: a brilliant object crossed the void of space near the planet—and captured me.
And that was when I stopped being human.