Three Days

A sudden countdown of 3 days, or 72 hours, or 250.200 seconds, and or 259.200.000 milliseconds on the dot appeared inside their (humanity's) circuit, an artificial subconscious, without any notice. Was it a bug in the system? Activities from the headquarters of the Intelligence Squires? A virus from an infamous Scripter? Nobody knows, not even the 'Topdogs' of the hierarchy.

But one thing is certain: their primal instinct to survive, not the one that stems from any artificial mind, emotions, body, or sense integration, but from a pure human survival instinct built over millions of years of evolution, is acting without coordination and causing chaos in the masses. In conclusion: fear, fear of the unknown.

Enter: Mave, a 21-year-old man with a stable 'job' and a relatively peaceful retirement from his educational days. Now known as the infamous "Worst Scripter" of the country, there's nothing better to do than to relax and let those clients come in and go as money generates itself. Brushing off these silly little numbers lightly, thinking it has nothing to do with him.

"How could such insignificant numbers scare so many of those who basically control the very world we live in? It's ridiculous! Preposterous even!" He proclaimed loudly.

But what happens when that tranquility is broken, and the lazy sloth has to get down from the comfort? When forgotten dreams reach those who sleep?

They are forced to wake up, walking, although slowly, towards an answer for these numbers' reason to dance amidst the crowd that is life.