As dubious as it was, Mioray’s plan worked. The next day, he and Chris went to see the med school student who was supposed to give Mioray a cast.

  “You’ve got the money?” was the first thing the guy asked when they arrived.

  “Do we have the money? Of course we’ve got the money, man.” Chris glanced at Mioray as if the med school student’s question was offensive. Mioray smiled awkwardly. Well, it was Chris who had the money, not him. Chris had said the cast would be a late birthday present from him to Mioray. “Do you have the cast?”

  “Do I have the cast?” the med school student echoed, looking at Mioray as if Chris’s question was offensive. Again, Mioray smiled awkwardly. “Of course I don’t have it! I need to wrap the materials around the arm and then wait for the cast to set.”

  “Well, you see, there’s a small problem with that…”

  In the end, the med school student had to improvise. He rolled a piece of cardboard into a tube, then applied fiberglass over it two times separately, and then glued those two parts of hardened fiberglass into one cast. He taught Mioray how to wear it properly, so it would hold tight and wouldn’t fall off at an inopportune moment. The cast wasn’t perfect, but it would suffice in the short term, until Mioray could think of a better solution. Of course, while wearing the cast, he had to remain mindful of his movements, never forgetting that he didn’t have a left arm anymore. He also borrowed a scarf from Chris to hide the wound and stitches on his neck.

  When all was done, they headed to their first lectures of the day. On the way, Chris teased Mioray about how desperate he was not to miss a single class. It was true. Last year, Mioray hadn’t missed a single lecture, attending each one religiously, and he planned to continue the same habit this year.

  After the classes, Mioray returned home, where his parents were waiting for him. He felt nervous anticipating the reunion. Would they be angry with him? Or worse, disappointed to the point they couldn’t find it in themselves to love him anymore? These doubts plagued him as he stood in front of the apartment door. There was only one way to find out. He rang the doorbell.

  It turned out to be nothing like he’d feared. On the contrary, his parents burst into tears when they saw him, hugging him tightly before he’d even stepped inside. At that moment, his cast nearly slipped off, but Mioray barely managed to keep it in place. Of course, his parents noticed he was hurt, and questions poured out. Mioray calmed them down, explaining that he’d broken his arm that morning after falling down the dormitory stairs. It was the same lie he’d told everyone at university, and he felt guilty for deceiving his parents. But seeing their love for him, even though they weren’t his biological parents, he wanted to believe the same thing they believed: that his arm would heal quickly and that he was otherwise safe and sound.

  After that, everyday life began to creep back in, gradually replacing the bizarre memory of waking up in the hospital. Studies took up most of Mioray’s time, keeping his mind off the morgue, the detectives, and even Erinel. Life was almost back to normal. Almost, but not entirely. There were changes, unexplainable changes, that were terrifying if he thought about them too much. Mioray tried convincing himself they were just the lingering effects of psychological trauma and that, in time, everything – everything – would return to normal.

  For starters, he would sleep again. Since that sleepless night at Chris’s place, Mioray hadn’t managed a minute of rest. His body didn’t tire anymore, and neither did his mind. At night, he lay in bed staring at the ceiling until he couldn’t stand it anymore. Then he would get up to study or watch movies. Mioray remembered learning once that the longest someone had gone without sleep was just over ten days.

  Well…

  It had already been two weeks. Two weeks since he started pretending everything was as normal as ever. Daily classes, hanging out with friends, and dinners with his parents. He often took his plate to his room under the pretense of needing to study, sitting alone with textbooks open on his computer. He’d sit there for hours, the plate untouched, his fork idly poking at the food, before setting it aside entirely. Mioray tried to eat once, but it ended up with him vomiting everything he’d put in his mouth. It was enough for him to decide not to touch food ever again.

  Still, the changes hadn’t disrupted Mioray’s life in any significant way, so he was starting to get used to them, like wearing a high collar sweatshirt that would cover his neck fully.

  It was another day at the university. Mioray sat in one of the afternoon classes, joined by other third-years.

  “Now class, today we are going to delve into the Post-Torlin Era, also known by many as the Era of Survival,” the professor announced, his monotonous voice doing little to spark interest. He scrawled the terms across the chalkboard, an antiquated tool rarely used in this day and age, yet one this university and particularly this professor insisted upon, as if to highlight its historical significance. “But first, I’d like to see how much you remember about it from school.”

  Silence filled the room. Even the faintest cough would have been noticed. Either no one was ready to take their studies seriously yet, even though two weeks had passed since the semester began, or everyone’s knowledge of those two centuries of back-to-back disasters was hazy at best.

  “Come on, don’t be shy,” the professor pressed on. “Surely you know something. I understand that modern history doesn’t get much attention in school, but you’re third-year history students now, you ought to know at least the basics.”

  Actually, Mioray knew more than enough about that period. Countless sleepless nights had left him with little to do but study, and now he was practically ready for the entire semester. He just had to keep everything he’d learned memorized. But speaking up in class? No chance. Not since he’d earned the nickname “holy boy”.

  “Don’t worry,” the professor added with a glance that betrayed his words, “I won’t grade your answers poorly.”

  Still, no one volunteered. History lessons in school mostly focused on events long in the past, and even the university’s first couple of years revisited those same periods in more detail. The past two centuries? Often skipped over entirely, both in academics and in casual conversation.

  “The starting point for this era is generally agreed upon to be the explosion of a nuclear plant near the city of Torlin,” a girl in a peach zip-up hoodie suddenly said, breaking the silence. She sat next to Chris and seemed to rescue the class from collective humiliation. “This is why it’s also called the Post-Torlin Era.”

  The room let out a collective sigh of relief. The class was grateful for her sacrifice. If she volunteered to answer, everyone knew she’d do it flawlessly. Professors usually caught on eventually and stopped letting her answer every question, but this professor hadn’t figured that out yet. He stroked his gray beard thoughtfully.

  “Your name?” he asked.

  “Julie. Julie Green.”

  “Thank you, Miss Green. It warms my heart to know at least one student here takes their studies seriously. You seem to know a little bit of history.”

  A couple of students chuckled at the remark. Mioray smirked, amused that the professor assumed Julie was the only one who knew about the Post-Torlin Era. Chris laughed too, recognizing the subtle jab at Julie’s pride. While the professor’s words sounded complimentary, they also undermined her confidence, praising her while suggesting she only knew “a little.”

  “I’m sure most of you think the nuclear explosion caused the disasters of the Era of Survival,” the professor continued, oblivious to Julie puffing her cheeks in frustration. “It’s fascinating how easy it is to manipulate facts, even with information readily accessible.”

  “Allow me, professor!” Julie interrupted, shaking her chestnut-brown donut bun as she spoke. “It’s true that, for decades, the nuclear explosion was blamed for the global drought. However, it was later revealed that the MAE Corporation had been depleting the planet’s resources for their own gain.”

  Ah, yes. The biggest scandal in modern history. Mioray was aware of it, of course. Despite the common agreement that the MAE Corporation was responsible for what happened to the planet and humanity, Mioray counted himself among those who believed MAE had been doing the right thing. The global drought would have happened sooner or later anyway, and MAE’s project, Messiriah, though it ultimately failed, was aimed at preserving biodiversity and supporting oxygen and food production. Some of MAE's ideas had evolved into more successful projects. The most notable was the Sphere Cities initiative, designed to shield cities with unbreakable domes from external dangers. The first Sphere City was completed between the global drought and the following ice age, and now every major city with a population over a million was slated to be transformed into one. Reques City was also in line to join the list.

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  “There were also the spirit bombs,” Julie continued. “Terrorist groups like Rizen Phoenix used them to infiltrate Sphere Cities, corrupting areas with unknown anomalies. But they were stopped, and spirit bombs were banned. After that, not much happened. The ice age worsened, eradicating all life outside the cities. Communication between cities was almost nonexistent. It wasn’t until about sixty years ago, when the planet warmed up again, that humanity began repopulating and rebuilding. They say we’ve only recently returned to where we were before the Torlin explosion.”

  True enough, though some argued humanity had surpassed its pre-Torlin state. And not only with bigger numbers. The global population, once reduced from eight billion to three hundred million, had climbed to three billion, which could be supported sustainably on the planet.

  Mioray leaned back in his chair, listening to the rain tapping against the windows. As Julie explained this chapter of history, he remembered why he’d once had a crush on her. That was in the past now. He still admired her intelligence but felt nothing for her romantically anymore. She lacked something. Something that Erinel had. Erinel was elegant, mysterious, and captivating. She felt like an ideal woman, perhaps because she wasn’t real. Mioray had returned to the bar once more, hoping to find her, but there was no sign of her. It drove him crazy. He could swear she was real, that he’d met her At Life’s End, but he had no proof. Just his memories of her and the bittersweet taste of the white-yellow cocktail she’d made.

  “But professor,” Chris interjected after Julie’s speech, “some believe we’re still in the Era of Survival. What are your thoughts on that?”

  “Are you referring to the red planet? That’s a silly notion,” the professor scoffed. “My counterargument is simple: we’ve lived in peace for over sixty years. That planet only appeared a couple of years ago.”

  “That’s true,” Chris replied, but he wasn’t done yet. “Still, it’s already destroyed a town in the west and damaged several major cities. And do you know what they plan to name it? Mars. Why would they choose that name if not to connect it back to the Torlin explosion?”

  Thus, a perfectly normal lecture devolved into a heated debate between Chris and the professor. While Mioray followed their argument with mild interest, he couldn’t help but feel detached. Outside of the historian community, who cared whether they were still in the Era of Survival or some newly named era? Did a name truly define an era? It might seem trivial to most, but for historians, it was essential. The beauty of history studies was finding order in the chaos of events.

  Later that day, after class, Mioray, Chris, and Julie headed to the cafeteria for lunch. They were soon joined by Juju, Mioray’s childhood friend who was studying law. Though Mioray and Juju had grown up together and attended the same school, they weren’t as close as they used to be. These days, Mioray preferred to confide in Chris rather than Juju. Still, despite their diverging paths, the two met up occasionally, especially during lunch breaks.

  “Honestly, debates like that are what make you guys nerds. But somehow, Chris, you manage to escape the curse. You’re still popular around campus,” Juju said, summing up the class discussion Mioray and Julie had been recounting.

  “What curse are you talking about?” another voice chimed in as a girl approached their table. “Hey, guys! What’s for lunch today? Chicken filet, fries, and salad?”

  Without waiting for an answer, she snatched a fry off Juju’s plate.

  “Hey!” Juju protested, but she was too quick for him to stop her.

  The girl was Angelika, a second-year history student. She’d gotten to know the group last year and had quickly become a part of it. Mioray, Chris, and Julie often joked that she hung out with them mostly because of Juju. They’d noticed how Angelika seemed to direct most of her attention toward him, always finding excuses to linger near him or walk him home after classes, despite living in different parts of the city. Juju, however, didn’t seem to notice or care. To him, she was just another history enthusiast, no different from Mioray, Chris, or Julie. Sometimes, it seemed he only talked with them to feel superior.

  “Hey, Angelika. Do you know who Mars is?” Chris asked, zeroing in on the blonde girl with forest-green highlights and an oversized gray wool sweater, cutting off any chance for Juju to reply about the curse. Not that Juju looked particularly eager to answer.

  “Umm... Isn’t that the nom de guerre of the military leader who greenlit the Torlin attack, which caused the nuclear explosion?”

  “Exactly!” Chris said triumphantly. “And it’s also the name of the red planet hanging above us in the sky. The same one threatening us with meteorites breaking off and crashing into Earth. Isn’t it ironic? Man, It’s like whoever named it was trying to make a point. Don’t you think so?”

  “So what if they were?” Julie interjected. “Just let it go, Chris. People name things, and people are opinionated. Including our professor. Are you sure you want to get on his bad side? He’s the one grading us, after all.”

  “What’s the point of studying if I can’t challenge him? Man, I thought we were supposed to think critically. If I don’t agree with his conclusions, either he convinces me I’m wrong, or I convince him.”

  “You can do that after you’ve passed his course.”

  “We haven’t finished it already?” Mioray raised an eyebrow. “Julie, it felt like you speed-ran through the whole thing in one class.”

  Mioray and Chris burst out laughing, while Julie shot them a glare.

  “Anyway,” she said icily, “Angelika, aren’t you going to order something? Lunch break is almost over.”

  “Oh, right! Of course!” Angelika slapped her forehead. “Mioray, want to come with me?”

  “Huh? Why me?”

  “Well, I noticed you’re the only one besides me who hasn’t eaten yet,” she said, confused.

  Chris’s plate was already empty, while Julie and Juju were halfway through their meals. Mioray, however, hadn’t ordered anything.

  “Oh... No, I’m fine. I’m not hungry,” he said, waving his healthy hand dismissively. “You go ahead.”

  “Are you on a diet or something, holy boy?” Juju teased. “I haven’t seen you eat anything in weeks. You’ve been acting weird ever since you ditched us on your birthday. When’s your arm going to heal, anyway? You’ve been wearing that cast for two weeks. Didn’t you say you broke it falling down the stairs? How bad was it?”

  And just like that, the lighthearted mood turned uneasy. Everyone at the table shifted their attention to Mioray, curious but hesitant to ask outright why he’d become so withdrawn lately. Only Chris and Juju seemed bold enough to tread near the topic. Chris because he already knew part of the story, and Juju because he was the one who had raised the question that had lingered, unspoken, until now.

  Mioray felt the weight of their gazes like a pressure building in his chest. Was this how things would be from now on? No peace, no escape, just this constant tension? All he wanted was to forget the incident from two weeks ago. Was that too much to ask? To just move on like nothing had happened?

  But forgetting wasn’t so easy when nothing about him was normal anymore. He couldn’t sleep. He didn’t feel hungry or thirsty. He never felt tired, cold, or hot. Even his blood – Mioray had deliberately cut himself once, desperate to confirm that he still had any coursing through his veins. It turned out he did, but the discovery didn’t bring relief. An hour later, the wound vanished, leaving no scar, as if it had never existed.

  And the stitches? The ones on his legs, his unbroken arm, his neck? The cuts they were meant to hold together had vanished entirely, leaving behind smooth, unmarked skin. It was as if they’d been sewn into him for no reason at all.

  “Did you swallow your tongue?” Juju snapped his fingers in front of Mioray’s face, jolting him from his spiraling thoughts.

  “No, I’m just–”

  “Cut him some slack, Juju,” Chris interrupted, rising from his seat and gathering his empty plate. “A broken arm usually heals in six or eight weeks. And you know people can die falling off stairs, man? Don’t push it. Let’s go, Angelika, I’ll keep you company.”

  Chris and Angelika headed to the counter, leaving Mioray, Julie, and Juju behind.

  “What? I was just asking,” Juju muttered, visibly annoyed. He always seemed a little insecure when Chris stepped in.

  Julie, sensing the tension, decided to steer the conversation elsewhere. “Have you heard anything about the Dismantler lately?” she asked, poking at her salad with her fork.

  Both Mioray and Juju turned to her. “What about him?” they said in unison.

  “I don’t know, I just noticed there hasn’t been any news about him in the last two weeks. He was all anyone talked about before, constantly on the hunt for two straight months, and now, nothing. It’s strange. Maybe the police finally caught him?”

  Mioray doubted the Dismantler had been caught, but he didn’t want to dwell on the serial killer. Strangely, there had been no updates about the Dismantler’s most recent victim, the one Mioray himself might have been. Or someone else, some unlucky soul, whose body had vanished from the morgue only to be replaced by Mioray’s. The entire situation was a tangled mess, impossible to make sense of, no matter how much he tried.

  “Caught him?” Juju said skeptically, pointing his fork at Julie. “I doubt it. The whole Dismantler case is a fucking PR nightmare for the police. If they’d caught him, they’d have announced it immediately, trying to save face. No, I bet they’re just covering up his new victims to keep the public from panicking and losing even more trust in the system.”

  “Well, we won’t know anything until it’s revealed to us, so there’s no point in talking about the Dismantler,” Mioray said, trying to sound casual. In truth, he just wanted to avoid thinking about his own situation. “Let’s talk about what we could do this weekend instead.”

  The shift in topic worked like a charm. They quickly pivoted to brainstorming weekend plans. Everything seemed to settle back to normalcy, until Mioray picked up on a strange sound. Faint at first, it struggled to rise above the chatter and clatter of the bustling cafeteria.

  “Do you hear that?” he asked, his voice uncertain.

  They fell silent, straining to listen. At first, it was nearly impossible to make out anything in the lively cafeteria, but one by one, people stopped talking, each person trying to pinpoint the eerie sound Mioray had mentioned. It was faint, distant, but undeniably there. An unsettling noise that seemed to grow louder with each passing second.

  “Is that... screaming?” Mioray asked hesitantly. “It sounds like people are screaming outside. What’s happening?”

  As if in answer, the walls of the cafeteria shuddered violently. A moment later, the ceiling caved in with a deafening crash.