Survival

As the screen turned back to the cartoon I'd been watching, I found myself oddly calm. Not shocked. Just… irritated.

"Great. They paused my show, the energy just isn't the same anymore. And that poor guy… he killed himself to protect the country." I muttered in pity.

I really felt bad for him. Taking away the humility from it all though…

Completely different.

I wasn't a fan of gore, never had been. But the blood, the rawness of it—there was something mesmerizing about it. I hated myself for thinking that, but I couldn't help it.

Shaking off the weird feeling, I grabbed my phone and started scrolling through social media. The algorithm seemed to have sensed the disaster, because all I saw were people in panic, sharing news stories about what was happening.

A news outlet, Tcc, was spreading the word: "Implanted humans and robots are terrorizing the United states. We knew this was coming, but this soon? To anyone listening, I have no words of advice… just do whatever you can to avoid these tyrants. Earth is no longer safe. We have officially entered a cybernetic apocalypse."

Shocked, struck to the very core, It was as if I got slapped in cold weather.

"This is really happening," I thought, tossing my phone onto the kitchen counter. Words and worries were racing eachother in my mind.

I didn't have a neural implant. I'd always known the risks, always avoided it. But now… I felt exposed, defenseless. How could I possibly survive without one?

Suddenly, a knock shattered the silence. Two sharp raps on the door.

I froze. My heart hammered in my chest, adrenaline flooding my veins.

Who was it? A friend? No, they'd have called. Someone else? But who?

Instinct took over. Without thinking, I grabbed a knife from the kitchen.

Maybe it was irrational, but I wasn't taking any chances.

"Zach Civilcent. We know you're in there. The Zyber Union has information you're not implanted. Please come with us peacefully and install your military-assigned cyberware. If you don't participate in this drafting, we'll have no choice but to use lethal force." The male voice was gruff, unmistakably armed. They were serious.

"I'm giving you ten seconds to open the door."

"Fuck. Fuck. What am I doing with this knife? I'll die if I fight that cyborg."

Shaking from anxiety, I was well aware that my options were limited. If anything, I knew I had to act fast. I abandoned the knife and rushed to the window.

I had about eight seconds at best. I fiddled with the lock, my hands trembling.

After what felt like minutes, I finally managed to get it open.

I was three stories up. A thirty-foot drop.

"Mannn, I've always been scared of heights. Wrong time to be terrified Zach."

If I didn't jump, I'd be at their mercy. Implanted, controlled, sent off to fight in some war I didn't believe in.

"I value my freedom. I was able to work that shitty job because I told myself long ago that I chose it." I whispered to myself.

And without thinking a third time, I climbed onto the ledge and…

Leaped like never before. 

As I was falling, time seemed to slow. Milliseconds turned into seconds, and the world around me kept moving. It felt as if it were flying, descending at a sluggish pace.

I'd heard about it before—how, in life-or-death moments, everything slows down. My mind shuffled through memories—those times I took things for granted, the times I let people walk all over me.

Regret surged within me, in sync with my descent, and my thoughts became clearer than they'd ever been. Faces flashed—people who had insulted me, my boss, that other, and another terrible excuse for a human. I felt an overwhelming urge to mock them, to not care about things like my "job" or what they might think.

And then, I thought...

'If I somehow make it out of this, I'll value my self-respect above almost everything else…'

"A new start… no choice, gotta quit my job now. Not that I'm against it!" I roared while falling feet-first at a rapid speed, "If I land correctly, I'll probably break my legs… damnit, can't have that."

Time slowly began to regain its originality. And as a new idea came into mind, time returned to normal again.

'THERE, RIGHT THERE!' Grasping a random second floor's window ledge, I hit and bruised my left hand. But that wasn't what mattered… even if I had broken my finger, it would've been worth it.

My idea worked. My action broke the fall and I landed perfectly.

I ran across the highway, I saw no cars, and wondered where they all went.

Stumbling and then regaining my posture, I was a mess of anxiety. The nearest public location was a few hundred feet away. Seeking refuge and finding someone capable of defending me was my plan. Run, escape. But even that plan had its faults. Who would help me? None of this was important. What was, however, is that if I stopped, he would've surely killed me.

As I was sprinting in the left direction from my apartment complex, I heard a loud shout from my window.

"YOU DARE TRY AND ESCAPE ME? HOW COMEDIC…. BAHAHA, I CAN SEE THROUGH WALLS YOU DOOFUS! RUN WHILE YOU CAN, THE MOMENT I SEE YOU, I'LL KILL YOU! WE DON'T NEED YOU, NO ONE DOES!" His ego-maniacal scream radiated through the complex, and hearing it, I was horrified even more.

Yet another thought crossed my mind. When I glanced at the driving-way for a split second, my car was the only one visible.

Weird it was, I couldn't let it affect my escape plan.

I ran, the weight of my footsteps mimicking the desolate area around me. My eyes were fixed on the hill ahead—if I could just reach the top, I thought, I'd be able to see the heart of my town. Maybe someone would be there. Someone, anyone. I could already hear the words forming in my mind: 'There has to be someone. Yeah… I'll be saved.'

When I reached the top of the hill, I stumbled to a halt, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. Hope had been the only thing propelling me forward, but it evaporated the second I saw what was ahead.

I was standing in disbelief.

My town, Springville, was unrecognizable. Cars, now just charred outlines, were scattered like forgotten memories. The buildings—ruined beyond repair, their skeletal remains standing as silent witnesses to whatever had happened here. Blood, guts, and mangled humans were in every direction, the visible death toll was in the thousands.

"They're all dead," I said, my voice trembling with a sadness I didn't recognize. I thought I'd known despair before, thought my life was the very definition of hopelessness.

But then I saw this… and I thought…

Maybe my life wasn't that bad.

I stood there, staring, unable to move. It wasn't just the town that was gone— I was gone too. My delusion, my arrogance, my sense of pride—all of it felt like it was being erased, one thought at a time.

Was I going to cry? Beg for mercy? No. That wasn't me. When he came for my freedom, I was going to fight. I'd go down swinging, and if I didn't survive, so be it. I wasn't the type to kneel and plead.

But really, I knew just as any other human that I was dead meat. What I was planning to do was no different from death by cop.