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The Day the World Stopped

  There’s a peace to the museum I never thought I’d need. The quiet hum of the place, the way people shuffle between exhibits without a care in the world—it’s a kind of normalcy I didn’t know I’d missed. The job’s nothing glamorous, but it suits me. No real danger, no late-night phone calls pulling me into something I’d rather forget. Just people, history, and a rhythm I can count on.

  I stood at my usual spot near the security desk, arms crossed, watching the crowd drift by. A school group had just come in, the kids already darting toward the dinosaur exhibit while their teacher tried to herd them like cats. Tourists snapped pictures of displays they’d never remember. A mom was explaining to her son why the suit of armor wasn’t a Transformer.

  “Easy day,” I muttered under my breath. I didn’t say it out loud often, but I liked this job.

  “Andrews,” I called, spotting my rookie stationed by the Viking exhibit. He stood there like a post, stiff and unsure, his hands clasped behind his back. “Relax, son. You keep standing like that, someone’s gonna mistake you for part of the display.”

  Andrews startled, his eyes darting to me. “Sorry, Mr. Walker. Just trying to, uh… stay sharp.”

  I gave him a small smile, leaning on the counter. “Sharp’s good. But you’re about two seconds from locking your knees and passing out. Try breathing. It helps.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said, trying to loosen up but still looking like he might bolt if I stared at him too long.

  “You keep calling me ‘sir,’ and I’ll start thinking I’m still on a base somewhere,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s Walker. Or Archibald if you’re feeling formal. But not sir.”

  Fernandez chuckled from his spot near the entrance, his thermos of coffee balanced on one hand. “Let him ‘sir’ you. Might be the only respect you get all day.”

  I shot him a look, the corner of my mouth twitching. “You’re just jealous no one calls you sir.”

  “Nah, I’m good,” Fernandez said, taking a sip. “They’d have to pay me a lot more for that kind of responsibility.”

  Andrews managed a nervous laugh, and I let it sit for a moment. The kid was trying, but I could see the edge on him. He reminded me of me, back when I thought standing at attention was the hardest thing I’d ever do.

  When the Apocalypse Happened, It hit like a thunderclap.

  One moment, I was watching Andrews pretend not to sweat through his uniform, Fernandez sipping coffee like it was a lifeline, and the museum thrumming with its usual weekday chaos. The next, the air itself seemed to shift, thickening like the world had drawn a sharp breath and was holding it.

  I didn’t feel the hum at first. It was too faint, buried under the buzz of fluorescent lights and shuffling feet. But then it grew, deeper and louder, vibrating like a bassline I couldn’t escape. I turned toward Fernandez to say something, but the words never made it out.

  The world locked up. My muscles froze, every nerve in my body locking into place like I’d been flash-frozen. Panic surged, wild and useless, screaming at me to move, to blink, to breathe—but nothing happened. Around me, the museum stood frozen. A child’s laughter cut short mid-breath. A man with his phone halfway to his ear. Andrews, his mouth open in what should’ve been a nervous laugh, stuck like a statue.

  I was a prisoner in my own body, and I didn’t even have time to be scared.

  Then the world cracked open.

  The air split with a soundless snap, a sensation like the universe had been torn in half. Colors bled into the edges of my vision—red, gold, violet—all of them too bright and sharp to be real. A voice boomed, shattering the silence and vibrating through my skull like a drill.

  “Attention. Global integration has been initiated, You are now a participants in humanity’s evolution.

  The words burned themselves into my mind, clear and inescapable. The voice wasn’t human. It was vast, cold, and impossibly calm, like it didn’t care how many lives it was upending.

  Phase One: Participant Evaluation

  Analyzing participant profile…

  The words glowed faintly in the air, clinical and detached, as if the Interface wasn’t aware or didn’t care that it was rifling through my life. Memories flickered in flashes, sharp and unrelenting.

  Physical Evaluation... .. .

  Physical Attributes:

  Height: 6’2”

  Weight: 215 lbs

  Muscle Density: 35% above baseline

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  Bone Density: 40% above baseline

  Physical Resilience: Exceptional

  I saw myself in a dozen situations—running through deserts with fifty pounds of gear strapped to my back, sprinting through jungles, hauling a wounded teammate to cover. My body had been my tool, honed through years of necessity, not vanity.

  Baseline Physical Compatibility: High.

  Combat Evaluation... .. .

  Combat Profile:

  Primary Specialization: Marksmanship (Elite)

  Secondary Specializations: Reconnaissance (Elite), Hand-to-Hand Combat (Advanced)

  Confirmed Pre-Evolution Kills: 112

  Engagement Record: 297 combat missions

  Each number came with a memory. The crack of a sniper rifle. The chaos of close-quarter battles. The screams I tried to forget, the moments of silence afterward. The Interface didn’t filter anything. It wasn’t gentle.

  Baseline Combat Compatibility: Exceptional.

  Psychological Evaluation... .. .

  Psychological Profile:

  Resilience: High

  Adaptability: High

  Focus Under Pressure: Exceptional

  Emotional Stability: Moderate

  The flashes here were harder to watch. A woman’s face, laughing under a setting sun. The same face, pale and lifeless, blood pooling beneath her. The sound of a chopper overhead, the weight of guilt sitting heavier than my gear.

  I swallowed hard, but the Interface didn’t care. It just kept calculating.

  Baseline Mental Compatibility: Moderate to High.

  Evaluation Summary

  The lights pulsed again, and the text shifted.

  Participant Profile Completed.

  Strengths Identified:

  Exceptional precision and battlefield awareness.

  High resilience and adaptability.

  Strong decision-making under pressure.

  Weaknesses Identified:

  Emotional stability susceptible to past trauma.

  Tendency to isolate under stress.

  The words were matter-of-fact, clinical, and cold. Like I was a piece of equipment being inspected for cracks and flaws.

  Participant Evaluation: Core Archetype: Combat

  As soon as the evaluation completed, the figures appeared—thousands of them.

  They weren’t reflections. They were me. Versions of me, each carrying weapons or tools I couldn’t begin to explain. The possibilities stretched out endlessly, overwhelming in scope. Then, like a hand passing through a field of wheat, most of them began to fade.

  Archetypes Filtered Based on Profile.

  Core Archetype: Combat

  What is your approach to survival in a hostile world?

  The figures left standing reflected something more familiar: tactical builds, practical options. Four stepped forward, each accompanied by a description.

  Dominance Through Awareness“Control the battlefield by seeing everything. Awareness allows you to predict, counter, and outmaneuver your enemies.”

  Survival Through Endurance“Endure any challenge. Resilience and adaptability allow you to outlast any foe.”

  Adaptability Through Versatility“Use every tool and weapon at your disposal. Flexibility ensures you’re never unprepared.”

  Power Through Aggression“Dominate with overwhelming force. Strike quickly and deal massive damage to end fights decisively.”

  I studied the options. The flashes accompanying each showed me a version of myself—familiar, yet alien.

  Endurance. It didn’t need upgraded—I already knew how to push through pain.

  Aggression. Tempting, but reckless. Brute force never lasted long.

  Versatility. Useful, but scattered I thought.

  Awareness. The sniper stood steady, his movements deliberate. I didn’t need to outlast anyone if I could end the fight before it started.

  I chose Dominance Through Awareness.

  Participant Selection: Strategic Role.

  The figures narrowed again, dozens dissolving into the void. The ones left reflected more specialized roles.

  Strategic Role

  What is your role in combat?

  Four stepped forward.

  The Sentinel“A defender and strategist. Ensure no threat escapes your vigilance.”

  The Eliminator“A precision striker. Neutralize threats with surgical accuracy.”

  The Pioneer“An explorer and survivor. Thrive in unpredictable environments.”

  The Vanguard“A first-response specialist. Charge into danger to turn the tide of battle.”

  The Sentinel stood tall, shield in hand. The Eliminator crouched, rifle ready. The Pioneer adjusted his pack. The Vanguard charged forward, blades flashing.

  Sentinel. Too reactive. You couldn’t protect anyone if you couldn’t protect yourself first.

  Pioneer. A survivor’s role, but not sharp enough.

  Vanguard. Too aggressive.

  Eliminator. The precision struck a chord—control over chaos.

  I chose The Eliminator.

  Participant Selection: Tactical Specialization

  The remaining figures dissolved, leaving only three.

  Tactical Specialization

  What advantage defines your specialization?

  Relentless Precision“Focus on critical hits and exploiting weaknesses for devastating results.”

  Adaptive Combat“Adapt to any situation by switching between weapon types and tactics seamlessly.”

  Momentum Control“Dominate the flow of combat with superior mobility and reactive abilities.”

  Momentum Control. Not enough.

  Adaptive Combat. Too broad.

  Relentless Precision. Weak points, critical hits, results.

  I selected Relentless Precision.

  Selections Confirmed

  Class Assigned: Crisis Operative“You are the apex solo specialist. With unmatched battlefield awareness and precision, you dominate every encounter with efficiency and control.”

  Instantly everything snapped back into focus and a tourist stumbled past me, their voice shaking as they whispered, “What… what is this?”

  “This… this is Hell,” I muttered, the words slipping out before I could stop it.

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