Earth

Chapter 4: Earth

"This gel contains the oxygen and water necessary for human survival, as well as providing sufficient cushioning. Based on my calculations, this plan has the highest probability of success."

After all the turmoil, a glimmer of hope finally emerged. Kestrel wasted no time—without hesitation, he plunged into the gelatinous substance.

As he turned to call the robot inside, he noticed it walking away."Where are you going? Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"Stay put. I'm going to ensure the shock absorption system is operational," the robot replied as it strode off.

Before Kestrel could respond, the entire chamber lurched violently. A cascade of dirt and debris tumbled toward him, forcing him to shrink further into the gel.

Weightless, his body suspended in the viscous substance, he felt an odd sensation—though completely submerged, the gel permeated his lungs, yet he could still breathe. The experience was surreal.

However, as the impact tremors intensified, he had no time to dwell on it. Instinctively, he curled himself into a ball, bracing for the chaos.

It felt like being hurled through a roller coaster without a safety harness—thrown left, then right, with no sense of stability. But thanks to the gel's protective embrace, he avoided being shattered upon impact.

He had no idea how much time had passed. Then, with one final, devastating jolt, everything fell into eerie silence.

Sensing the stillness outside, Kestrel began clawing his way toward the gel's edge—only to find himself blocked. Panic surged through him. He twisted around and kicked furiously.

After a dozen strikes, a sliver of light pierced through the inky darkness.

Kestrel swam toward it, and the moment he emerged, humid air flooded his lungs. Cold raindrops pelted his skin, washing away the remnants of his ordeal. At that instant, he felt as though he had been reborn.

The containment chamber had been torn open, a gaping wound in its metallic shell. Staring up at the relentless downpour, Kestrel stood frozen for a moment—then suddenly, he laughed.

He was back. He had survived.

Overcome with emotion, he roared skyward, then fell to his knees, pressing his hands against the soaked earth as if to confirm its reality. Only after a long while did he manage to compose himself.

Though he had escaped imminent death, Kestrel knew the danger was far from over.

Scanning his surroundings, he took in the wreckage—the capsule was in ruins, debris scattered beyond recognition. The robot had been right: while the station had not disintegrated mid-air, its condition was barely any better.

It lay sprawled across the land, a collapsed metallic carcass. Had he not encased himself in the gel, he would have been beyond salvation.

Then a thought struck him.

"Wait—where's the robot? Is it still operational?"

A pang of anxiety shot through him as he began searching frantically, pushing aside wreckage in his desperate hunt.

Despite knowing it was a machine, the robot's mannerisms made it almost impossible not to think of it as human.

Reaching the corridor's edge, his breath caught in his throat—a crumpled, lifeless robotic head lay among the wreckage.

His fingers trembled as he picked it up. The once-illuminated screen was now void of light, the head devoid of any sign of function.

Then, footsteps.

He turned sharply.

Emerging from the mist, the robot strode toward him, missing an arm but very much intact.

They locked eyes.

"What the hell are you doing?" the robot asked.

Kestrel hesitated, then casually tossed the severed head aside."Nothing. Just... inspecting."

Damn it. He had grabbed the wrong one.

"Where were you?" Kestrel approached, still shaken.

"The impact flung me out. Some of my components were damaged, so I went to scavenge replacements," the robot replied, pulling out a mechanical limb and beginning to attach it. The severed head likely belonged to it.

"Well, as long as you're alright," Kestrel muttered, patting the robot's shoulder.

He tilted his head back, gazing at the overcast sky. The rain hadn't stopped—unceasing droplets pattered against his face.

"We need to move. We need a point of reference," he said.

"You have navigation, don't you? Can you determine our exact location?"

The robot's fingers morphed into various rotating tools as it continued repairing itself."Give me a moment."

Its screen flickered with text: CONNECTING TO NETWORK...

With immediate survival no longer his foremost concern, Kestrel's other instincts returned.

Rainwater was pooling at his feet, streaming in from every crevice. He cupped his hands, gathering some, and took a deep sip.

A sharp bitterness, laced with a distinct metallic tang, flooded his mouth. He gagged and spat it out.

Something was wrong.

Frowning, he clenched his fists. His memories were fragmented, but one thing was certain—rainwater wasn't supposed to taste like this. Something had happened here.

Moments later, the robot lifted its head. Kestrel wasted no time.

"Well? Did you connect?"

"Yes," the robot replied, "but every attempt to contact emergency services or TPAL Technologies results in no response. In fact, I couldn't find any trace of TPAL Technologies on the web at all."

Kestrel wasn't surprised.

"What year is it?" he asked, tension creeping into his voice.

"721," the robot answered.

Kestrel's body went rigid. "721? The Common Era is no longer in use? But... I lived in 2030."

A dull ache bloomed in his skull.

The robot's screen flashed with two exclamation marks. "Wait—my manufacturing date is recorded as the year 2456 CE. I think you need to explain yourself. It seems we have... a temporal discrepancy."

"I—I don't know," Kestrel muttered, slumping onto the wet ground, letting the rain drench him.

"I'm missing parts of my memory."

The uncertainty clawed at him. He didn't know who he was anymore, nor how much time had truly passed.

After Kestrel recounted everything he could remember, the robot began cross-referencing historical records, piecing together a timeline.

"If our assumptions are correct, here's what likely happened: The early 21st century was your time. However, due to an unknown event within your five-year memory gap, you were either frozen or placed in stasis."

"Fifty years later, humanity mastered nuclear fusion—an almost infinite source of clean energy—triggering an unprecedented technological surge. In the year 2310, TPAL Technologies was founded."

"In 2456, I was manufactured. But I wasn't activated that same year. Then history takes over—2457, October 23rd. The Synthetic Intelligence Crisis began."

Kestrel fell silent. His gaze shifted toward the robot's sleek metallic frame.

"The Synthetic Intelligence Crisis?" he repeated.

The robot gave a curt nod. "Yes. By then, AI had integrated into every aspect of human life. Systems iterated at an exponential rate, growing more advanced, more autonomous—more human."

"Like you?" Kestrel asked.

"Precisely. Now, don't interrupt me. Let me finish the story."