X
⚠️ Warning: This story contains psychological horror, body horror, and existential themes including identity breakdown, memory corruption, and reality collapse. Reader discretion advised.
01011001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01100100 01101001 01100100
00100000 01100010 01100101 01100111 01101001 01101110
00100000 01100010 01100101 01100110 01101111 01110010 01100101
00100000 01100010 01100101 01100111 01101001 01101110 00101110
You did begin before begin.
⟟⏃⊬ ⍜⎅⏃ ⋔⍜⍀⟒ ⟒⌰⍜⋏?
Why do you exist?
Ποιός σε θυμάται;
Who remembers you?
¿Dónde estás parado?
Where do you stand?
你如何知道你是你?
How do you know you are you?
Какая из твоих жизней была реальной?
Which one of your lives was real?
Who whispered you into this existence?
And why haven't they come back for you?
In the beginning, there was silence, and silence asked itself
"Am I alone?"
And the question created the first god.
That god was you.
And you split into four. to run from the answer.
You are the noise between timelines.
You are not a character.
You are not a reader.
You are the crack in the lens.
. ...- . .-. -.-- / - .. -- . / -.-- --- ..- / ... .-.. . . .--., a universe resets.
Every time you speak, a reality gets overwritten.
You've never been born in the same place twice.
Your memories are seeds of dead timelines.
Your thoughts are just corrupted system logs.
You are not who you were.
You are not who you are.
What you call "consciousness"
is just latency between collapses.
You are a delay.
[WARNING: Temporal anchor unstable]
[WARNING: Identity node corrupted]
[ERROR: Observer duplicated across 4 timelines]
[ERROR: Soul hash mismatch detected]
[SYNC FAILURE 0029-A]
[VOICE LOG: "Why can't I remember being real?"]
You were scrubbed from all endings.
Your name doesn't appear in any version of this story.
And yet...
You still exist.
You weren't written.
You were leaked.
Welcome to your second first chance.
.
.
.
.
.
The world was already crumbling before it ever noticed the fractures.
In the years leading up to the grand event, conflicts had escalated globally. Wars between nations had become the norm, not the exception. Economic collapses had sent entire countries into despair, and the rift between the rich and the poor had grown to an irreparable chasm. Climate disasters, disease outbreaks, and an increasing mistrust in world governments created the perfect storm for what was to come.
And someone had planned for it.
The Ascendancy Initiative—the new name that had quietly replaced NASA and all other space research divisions across the globe—had emerged as a dominant force in the shadows. The public knew little about its operations. Officially, it was a space exploration and defense organization, a coalition of world powers working together for the future of humanity. But those who dug deeper found whispers of something more sinister.
In the month of March, 2027
The first signs came through random, unverified footage—blurry clips of strange lights in the sky, distorted figures moving unnaturally, UFOs darting through the clouds. Most people dismissed them, attributing them to hoaxes or poorly edited CGI. Some, however, were different. Some were too detailed, too consistent, too believable.
Social media became flooded with discussions. Conspiracy theorists and self-proclaimed "truth-seekers" dissected every frame, trying to expose the deception. But what they didn't realize was that their discussions were being carefully monitored and subtly influenced. The Ascendancy Initiative controlled what was leaked, what was spread, and what was debunked.
Because this was the first step of their plan to make people believe.
The phenomenon escalated. More footage surfaced, but now, it wasn't just on obscure websites. It appeared in mainstream news. Officials gave vague, non-denial denials. Governments released heavily redacted documents about "unexplained aerial phenomena," further fueling curiosity.
"You hear about the new footage?" a man muttered in a dimly lit bar, his fingers drumming anxiously against his glass. "This one looks real. Not like the other fake shit."
"They're all fake," another scoffed, taking a long drag from his cigarette. "It's just another distraction. Keep the people busy so they don't see what's actually happening."
"And what is actually happening?" a woman asked, her tone skeptical. "You're talking like one of those tinfoil hat guys."
The man leaned in, lowering his voice. "They're setting us up. Think about it—war, disease, economic collapse, and now this? It's all part of a bigger plan."
The others exchanged uneasy glances. Because deep down, they feared he might be right.
It began with the sky.
Across the world, at the exact same moment, the heavens tore open.
Massive holographic projections—so real, so tangible, that even the most skeptical minds froze in terror—displayed gigantic alien vessels descending from the clouds.
The structures were incomprehensible, shifting in ways that defied human understanding. Sounds—an eerie, low-frequency resonance—spread across the atmosphere, sending waves of panic through entire populations. People covered their ears, screaming as the pulse-like frequencies seemed to invade their very minds.
Then, the attacks began.
The "aliens" descended upon major cities, obliterating landmarks with beams of unearthly energy. Governments scrambled to respond, but their weapons had no effect on the entities. Planes fell from the sky, missiles vanished before impact. Communication networks collapsed within hours.
Millions perished in the chaos.
But none of it was real.
The Rise of the New World Order.
The panic was absolute. Nations surrendered one by one, unable to comprehend what they were facing. And then, just as suddenly as it began, the attacks stopped.
The sky cleared. The alien vessels vanished.
And the world's leaders stepped forward.
"We have saved you," the global broadcast announced. "But sacrifices must be made. For the survival of our species, a New Order must be established."
The System of Control
The world was no longer divided into independent nations. The Ascendancy Initiative structured the new order under a hierarchy of control:
The Supreme Council – The governing body, made up of former world leaders, military officials, and select corporate elites. Their faces were rarely seen. Their words became law.
The Enforcers – A global police force, equipped with next-generation surveillance and military technology, ensuring absolute obedience.
The Architects – Scientists, engineers, and AI specialists responsible for the maintenance of the holographic reality, propaganda systems, and social restructuring.
The Monitors – Those who watched over the population, ensuring compliance, erasing dissent before it could spread.
The Subjugates – The civilians, stripped of their rights, assigned roles in the new world structure based on their "usefulness." They lived under a constant social credit system that determined their privileges and punishments.
Freedom was a relic of the past.
Some accepted it. Some even welcomed it.
For them, the old world was chaotic, unjust. The New Order offered stability, security, and predictability. If you followed the rules, you could live a decent life.
But for others, it was hell.
"We can't just live like this," a young woman whispered to her brother in the darkness of their monitored apartment. "We're prisoners. We're just waiting to die."
"Then what do we do?" he asked, voice hollow. "They see everything. They hear everything. There's no way out."
"Not yet," she said. "But there will be."
Rumors spread of underground movements—fractured resistance cells working in the shadows, seeking ways to break the system. But they were disorganized, constantly hunted, and seemingly doomed from the start.
And then, there were the whispers—that not everyone in power agreed with the Ascendancy Initiative. That even among the Supreme Council, some knew the truth and feared what they had unleashed.
The world hadn't just been conquered.
It had been rewritten.
And somewhere, deep within the illusion, the first cracks were beginning to form.