The New World Origins Book 1

 

     Chapter 2 

The Fall from Grace. The world wasn't supposed to scream. Not like this. Not a dozen different screams all at once, each one a different shade of raw, uncontained panic.

My personal transport unit, a marvel of clean energy and frictionless motion, shuddered to a halt. The air filled with the acrid, coppery scent of blood, a smell that had no place in this perfect world. Just a moment ago, I had been enjoying the familiar comfort of my brother’s quiet company. The sun was setting perfectly. The city was glowing. This had to be a malfunction, a system-wide glitch that would be corrected any moment.

The holographic monument to Light, our creator, our guide, our world’s golden architect, had just flickered out of existence, replaced by a grotesque, jagged image. My mind, trained for efficiency and flawless logic, immediately began running diagnostics. This was a system-wide failure, a total corruption of the public display network. The sight of that six-limbed creature descending from the sky was surely a large-scale prank. I couldn’t understand why people were panicking. Their lack of discipline was frankly an embarrassment.

A high-pitched shriek sliced through the plaza. People were no longer strolling. They were scattering, running into each other, a chaotic mess of primal, unthinking terror. I, an all-American athlete, an Olympian in my prime, was disgusted by their lack of form, their flailing arms and stumbling feet. A woman with a child slammed into my shoulder, her face a mask of irrational fear. I had to sidestep her clumsy movement. My uniform, once a symbol of authority and success, now felt sticky with the grime of the unwashed masses. I needed to get somewhere clean. Somewhere with order.

"Edwin! We have to go!" Thomas yelled, his voice cutting through the noise.

I watched as a well-dressed man, a colleague of mine, was trampled. It was a shame, but also a clear example of what happens when people abandon reason. He hadn't used his physical conditioning to assess the situation.

“This is clearly a mass-hysteria event,” I said, analyzing the problem with the calm logic of a professional. “The system will be back online shortly. There’s no need for this irrational behavior.”

Thomas grabbed my arm, his grip surprisingly strong. “Let go, Thomas! I can manage myself!” I snapped. His actions were crude, clumsy, and completely unnecessary. I would have moved on my own. The purplish sky above us throbbed with a sickening, vibrant light. The fissure in the sky seemed to ripple and expand, and a new, smaller creature, all sharp angles and unsettling grace, landed on the roof of a nearby building. Its gaze, a pair of burning embers, swept over the fleeing crowd.

Everything I had ever believed in, every system, every rule, every bit of logic I had ever trusted, seemed to be breaking down around me. Light's flawless design, his promise of peace, his unified world—it all seemed to be failing at once. It was a massive, unprecedented bug. But even as the world fell apart, my core belief remained: I was the one who could fix it. I was a genius. I had always been the most successful, the most beloved. That hadn't changed.

My gaze fell on Thomas. He wasn't panicking. He wasn’t yelling or trying to make sense of the chaos. He was simply moving, pulling me along. He was like an animal, running on instinct. His quiet persistence, the trait that had made him so mediocre in a world of perfection, might have been useful in this moment. But I was the one with the intellect. The one with the ability to see the bigger picture. The one who could still fix this.

My perfect life was gone. But a new world was being born from the ashes, and I, the one who had always mastered every challenge, would be the one to master this. I would be the one to lead my brother.