And Then, The World Ended

Prologue

Noah Kai

gloomy glow of Los Angeles flickers in my rearview mirror, a fading memory of a city clinging to the past. I steer my hover car onto the Skyway, leaving behind the last memories of what used to be the modern world. Sophie rides in the passenger seat, her fingers dancing over her holo-pad, probably already drafting her next article.

"New York District, here we come," she grins, her eyes not leaving the screen. "The Capital of the New States of America. Can you believe it?"

I shake my head, a tightness in my chest. "Honestly? It feels unreal."

Skyscrapers shrink to pixels as we ascend higher. The transition from old to new is a sensory overload; below us, the earthbound LA roads, above us, layers upon layers of aerial traffic zipping between monolithic structures that pierce the clouds.

Sophie glances at me. "You're doing that thing again."

"What thing?"

"Overthinking. You're about to start a killer job, live in a killer apartment..." She nudges me playfully. "And maybe even meet someone who's actually available this time?"

A laugh escapes me despite the nerves knotting my stomach. "Yeah, well, I actually still need to pass the interview." I pause, considering the possibilities that lie in New York's sprawl of steel and neon. "No more unrequited crushes."

"That's the spirit!" Sophie punches my arm lightly.

The Skyway merges with others coming from different directions, forming a web that spans across states and time zones. Below us now is nothing but clouds, and beyond them, I know lies New York District—a cyberpunk paradise straight out of those old futuristic movies.

Sophie's enthusiasm is contagious as she leans closer to the windshield, squinting at a distant dot growing larger on the horizon.

"There it is," she whispers with reverence.

The skyline emerges from the haze—a jagged silhouette against an orange-pink sky where day meets night in an eternal dusk. It's Blade Runner come to life; holographic billboards the size of skyscrapers advertise everything from synthetic organs to virtual vacations.

My heart races as we approach our new home—my new life—packed tight in boxes in the back seat. Graphic design has always been my passion, but New York District? It's an artist's dream and nightmare rolled into one frenetic package.

"We're not in LA anymore," I murmur.

Sophie laughs, her gaze fixed on our future. "Nope. We're not."

This is where it all began, when we were lost in Japan. The sky came crashing down, and then, the world ended.

Liam Hayes

The digital clock chimed midnight, each clang a solemn reminder of the passing time. Liam sat perched on the velvet chaise lounge, an untouched glass of scotch on the table before him. The opulent room, normally teeming with life, was eerily silent save for the crackling fireplace. His father's study, a room Liam had only ever entered with fear, now felt suffocating.

"And just like that," Mr. Davis, his father's lawyer for as long as Liam could remember, cleared his throat, the gesture echoing loudly in the stillness, "everything goes to you."

Liam's gaze remained fixed on the intricate carvings on the mahogany desk, each curve and flourish a testament to a life lived on his father's terms. A life Liam had always been expected to follow, a gilded cage he could never quite escape.

"The estate, the companies, all assets..." Mr. Davis continued, shuffling through the documents, his voice droning on.

Billions. It was a staggering sum, an amount Liam couldn't even begin to fathom. Yet, it felt strangely hollow.

"Liam?" Mr. Davis' voice was hesitant, laced with an emotion Liam couldn't quite place. "Are you alright?"

Liam finally looked up, meeting the older man's gaze. Mr. Davis, with his neatly combed silver hair and perpetually worried frown, looked genuinely concerned. Liam realized he hadn't spoken, hadn't reacted at all. He probably looked like a statue, a hollow shell of a person.

"Yes," Liam's voice was flat, devoid of inflection. "I'm fine."

He wasn't fine. Not even close. Grief was a strange beast, one moment a dull ache, the next a roaring inferno. Right now, it was a numb silence, a hollowness that seemed to consume him from the inside out. He hadn't cried, not yet. Maybe he wouldn't.

"Your father," Mr. Davis began, then cleared his throat again. "He... He loved you, Liam. In his own way."

Liam knew what he meant. His father's love had always been conditional, a transaction rather than an emotion. He loved Liam the heir, the extension of his own ambition, not Liam the person.

"I understand," Liam said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Is there anything else?"

"No, no, I believe that's all." Mr. Davis gathered his papers, his expression a mixture of pity and something else. Relief, perhaps? "Unless you have any questions?"

Liam shook his head. He didn't need questions answered. He didn't need explanations. He just wanted to be alone, to grapple with the weight of his newfound solitude.

He decided that he was going to lead a different life than what his inheritance offered. He wasn't going to behave like those entitled brats; instead, He would take on a role as an employee in his own company rather than assume the position of the boss.