A Weird World Out There (2)

Ten stared at the office. He was dumbfounded. He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. How had his life spiraled into this mess? Seven years gone, his family shattered, and now this…. a cop sitting across from him, trying to paint him as some kind of monster.

"Wait," Ten said, his voice hoarse. He didn't even recognize the sound of himself anymore. He sounded too matured. "You're telling me... I'm a robot? Or half-robot, or whatever?"

"That's exactly what I'm asking," the officer replied, a bit too calmly.

"This is insane." Ten leaned back in the chair, dragging a hand down his face. He was trying to hold it together, but it was like standing on quicksand. The more he tried, the more he sank. "You're saying my legs are hiding machine parts? Like, what? Under my skin? Come on. That doesn't even make sense!"

The officer didn't flinch, didn't so much as blink. He was silent. And his silence was suffocating.

"And this," Ten snapped, grabbing the crumpled sketch on the table. He held it up like it was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever seen. "This doesn't mean anything. It's just some dumb drawing. It could belong to anyone!"

The officer tilted his head. "Could it?"

Ten opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. He glanced down at the drawing again, and that familiar, sick feeling churned in his stomach. It wasn't recognition exactly, but it felt like... something. He didn't even understand himself.

"I don't remember anything," he muttered finally. His voice cracked under the weight of the truth. "I can't tell you what I don't know."

The officer's expression didn't change. "That's convenient."

"Convenient?" Ten's voice rose, his frustration spilling over. "Are you serious right now? I just woke up a few hours, okay? Seven years of my life are gone. My mom and brother are dead. My sister is missing, supposedly dead too. And now you're accusing me of being some kind of... freak show?"

Ah, as soon as those words rolled out his tongue, Ten immediately regretted saying it. Freak show. Was that what he was now?

"You tell me," the officer said, leaning forward. "Do you ever feel different? Like there's something inside of you that doesn't belong?"

Ten froze.

The question hit him like a slap. He wanted to shout, to tell the officer how ridiculous this all was. But the truth was...

He didn't know.

The memories of the crash were a blur. It was fractured and incomplete. Flashes of light. The roar of the ground splitting open. The sensation of being flung through the air. And then… and then… nothing.

No pain.

No blood.

No broken bones.

'Wait, hold on.' He made himself pause at a certain fleeting memory. That thing… the lightning? Was it really lightning? What if it was a falling comet or something? At least, that's what his memory was suggesting.

"I—" Ten started, but the words died in his throat.

The officer's eyes narrowed. "I think you're scared. Scared of what you might find if you dig deep enough."

"Scared?" Ten let out a bitter laugh. "Sir, I'm not scared. I'm exhausted. I've been unconscious for seven years. Seven. Years. You have any idea what that's like? Waking up and realizing your entire life is gone? That your family is gone? I can barely remember who I am, and now you're sitting here accusing me of being... being this?" He jabbed a finger gruffly at the sketch.

The officer didn't reply. He just stared silently again. That silence was heavier than any words could've been.

"You don't know what it's like," Ten continued, his voice trembling now. "You don't know what it's like to wake up and feel like you don't even belong in your own skin."

"So, this doesn't belong to you and might have never been in that car, but got there somehow?" The officer asked again.

Ten shook his head. "If the earth eventually swallowed Mama's car why would it spit out a paper if the paper was in that car?" This was absurd. "Mother was a journalist. It's writing over drawing. Dax couldn't even pull this... It's too good of a drawing. My sister? Nope. Maybe, if my father wasn't dead he might have pulled such drawing."

"And you?"

Ten glared up at the officer. "I play ball. I don't do sketching and 'pencil-ing'."

For a moment, the room was silent.

Then the officer leaned back, his chair creaking softly. "Well," he said, his voice as cold as steel, "Maybe school will help you figure it out."

Ten blinked. "What?"

"You're being sent back to school," the officer said, his tone flat. "Final high school year. Age doesn't matter; I think it'll help you reintegrate. Give you a routine, a sense of normalcy."

Ten stared at him. His chest was now tighten with a fresh wave of frustration. "You've got to be kidding me. School? Like high school? But, you said I'm 21. They'd make a mockery of my golden name and legacy."

"That was Officer Jae's idea," the officer said with a shrug. "But hey, maybe it'll be good for you. A distraction. Something to help you cope with how the world now works."

"Cope?" Ten repeated.

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah. Great. Just great."

Tchh! Big plan was to get into college at 18. At least that was Mama's wish. Now, just look at this mess. 21 and back to high school.

"We can leave now if you don't mind, young Ten."

---

The air outside the burial hall was just too clean.

Ten stepped out, squinting against the dull light of the overcast sky. It wasn't natural light, more like an artificial glow. It was diffused and cold, like someone had turned the world into a digital rendering.

The street in front of him stretched had its smooth surface gleaming faintly under the dim sky. The street material wasn't concrete. No cracks, no dirt, no signs of wear. It was something advanced, polished, like a metal alloy. He couldn't even hear the sound of his shoes as he walked across it. And each step he took energised him somehow.

Everything was… amazing, but.. empty.

No people. No cars. No noise. Just silence. It wasn't the comforting kind of silence, either. It was oppressive, like the city itself had gone into hiding.

The towering buildings on either side loomed overhead, their sleek glass exteriors reflected nothing. No movement, no flicker of life inside. Most of them had strange antenna-like structures jutting out, pulsating faintly with a blue or green glow.

Drones instead of birds hovered lazily in the sky and moved in neat, calculated paths.

Ten rubbed his eyes again. Somethings wasn't so clear and he was frustrated with how blurry everything still was. Something was definitely wrong with his vision.

He caught a glimpse of something on the horizon: a massive, dome-like structure in the distance. The surface was rippling faintly like water under sunlight.

A protective barrier?

A research facility?

He had no idea, and the thought of trying to figure it out made his head pound even more.

The officer behind him gave a curt grunt. "Keep moving."

Ten glanced over his shoulder, glaring but complying.

As he descended the walked further on the street, he caught sight of something. Just a sliver of movement far down the road. A figure in a long, dark coat was walking slowly. They didn't turn or pause. They just kept moving until they disappeared into a side alley.

"Who's that?" Ten asked.

The officer didn't even look. "Nobody."

It didn't feel like nobody.

A box-like van with no visible tyres was waiting for them a few feet ahead. It wasn't your average transport; it was high-tech and intimidating. The exterior had sharp, angular edges that gave it the appearance of something armored. The windows were so heavily tinted they might as well have been slabs of obsidian.

The rear doors slid open soundlessly as Ten approached. He hesitated, looking back toward the burial hall. 'I guess it's goodbye, Dax, Mama.'

"Get in."

Ten climbed inside and the door hissed shut behind him with a pneumatic sigh. The interior was cold and minimalist; metallic walls, a single strip of soft LED lighting running along the ceiling, and rows of seats bolted to the floor.

The windows were just as dark from the inside as they were outside.

He tried to peer out the windows, but it was useless. The windows were too thick and black and his eyes.. damnit.

It didn't matter, though. He already knew what he'd see if his eyes worked… mere nothing. More emptiness.

No people. No life. Just the cold, high-tech remnants of a world that felt more like a simulation than reality.

His fist clenched against his thigh. Seven years asleep, and this was what he woke up to?

"What the hell happened to the world?"