Chapter 1 The calm hour
Chapter 1 The quiet before.
It was past midnight, in a busy city right now was strangely quiet, a man was sleeping in his bed, room dark the only light coming in was from the morning sunlight from the room window. It was Max.
He wakes up three minutes before his alarm, for a few seconds, he doesn't move. He stares at the ceiling, watching the slow rotation of the old ceiling fan.
One blade makes a faint clicking sound each time it passes a certain spot. Click. Click. Click. It's annoying, not annoying enough to get up and fix it, though. He turns his head toward the window.
Curtains half open, a thin line of morning sunlight falling across the wall. Dust floats through the beam, moving slowly, like it's got nowhere else to be. His alarm goes off.
He reaches for his phone without opening his eyes. The screen lights up. 7:12 a.m. Two missed calls, a message from his manager, and a notification from his bank: low account balance. He stares at it for a moment. "Great."
He switches the alarm off and drops the phone beside his pillow. For another thirty seconds, he simply lies there. He isn't particularly sad. He's not happy either. Just tired.
Tired in the way that sleep doesn't seem to fix anymore. At twenty-four, Max has somehow made every day into a copy of the previous one. Wake up. Go to work. Come home. Eat something. Scroll. Sleep. Repeat. There's nothing exciting waiting for him. No relationship. No big dream. No secret talent he knows about. No rich family waiting to save him.
Just a small rented apartment, a job he doesn't care about. And bills that somehow keep arriving faster than his salary. His phone vibrates again, manager: "Where are you?" He looks at the time: 7:13. He sits up immediately. "Damn it."
He pushes the blanket aside and stands. The floor is cold beneath his feet, his apartment is small enough that he can see almost everything from where he stands.
A single bed. A cheap wooden table. A chair with clothes hanging over it, a small TV he barely uses. A narrow kitchen separated by a counter, and a refrigerator that started making strange noises two weeks ago.
Max walks to the kitchen, rubs his face, and stops halfway. He looks at the fridge. He opens it. Cold air touches his face. Inside, half a bottle of water, two eggs, an old packet of sauce, and a container of rice that probably shouldn't still be there.
He stares at it. "Breakfast." He closes the fridge. "Maybe tomorrow." After brushing his teeth and washing his face, Max changes into his work clothes. White shirt, dark trousers, cheap black shoes. Nothing special.
He stands in front of the mirror and fixes his hair with his fingers. His reflection looks back at him. Messy dark hair, tired eyes, a face that looks slightly older than 24. "You're doing great." He pauses.
"Absolutely fantastic." He grabs his bag. Then he remembers his phone. He picks it up. 31 percent battery. "Perfect." He shoves it into his pocket and rushes outside.
The hallway smells like someone's breakfast. Something fried, something spicy. His stomach growls. Max ignores it. He hurries down the stairs instead of waiting for the old elevator.
By the time he reaches the street, the morning has already turned noisy. Cars, bikes, people walking to work, street vendors shouting, buses squeezing through traffic. Too alive, for that early in the morning. Max checks the road. His bus is already coming. "Wait—" He starts running.
The bus stops. The doors open. People get off. Max is only a few meters away. Then the doors close. The bus moves. Max stops. He watches it disappear. "...Seriously?" He bends forward, breathing heavily.
A man standing nearby glances at him. Max straightens. "Don't." The man looks away. Max checks his phone. 28 percent battery.
He opens the transit app. The screen freezes. He taps again. Nothing. "Come on." The phone suddenly goes black, 0 percent battery.
Max stares at it, "You've got to be kidding me." He puts the phone back in his pocket. There's another bus in 15 minutes. He can wait. Or he can walk. He looks at the road. Then at his watch. "Walking, i guess."
He starts moving. The distance isn't impossible, just annoying. Twenty minutes later, Max is still walking. The city slowly disappears behind him as he heads into the business district. Tall buildings surround the streets. Glass, steel, concrete. Everything looks so clean from the outside.
Inside those buildings, thousands of people are sitting at desks, staring at screens, answering emails. Pretending they're not exhausted. Max enters his office at 8.03. The security guard nods and says, "Late today."
Max gives a tired smile. "Traffic." The guard laughs. "Every day traffic." Max doesn't answer. He just walks to the elevator. Two other employees are inside. Nobody speaks. Everyone just looks at their phones. Max reaches for his, then remembers. Dead.
He sighs. Fourth floor. The doors open. His manager is already there, arms crossed. "You're late."
"I know."
"Again."
"I know." Max stops listening.
Not because he doesn't care, but because he's heard the same speech too many times. He sits down, opens his computer. Emails. Numbers. Deadlines. The world outside looks completely normal. People are walking. Cars are moving.
The sun is shining. Nobody knows. Nobody can know. That this is the last ordinary day. Max works through lunch. Then into the evening. Nothing happens. No warnings, no messages, no signs.
The world just keeps going. At 6:47 p.m., Max finally leaves the office. The sky is orange. He walks with his hands in his pockets. For the first time that day, he's not thinking about work. He's thinking about dinner.
Maybe noodles. Something cheap. He stops at a small shop and buys a bottle of water. Then he looks up. The sky has stopped moving. The clouds are still. He frowns.
Something presses inside his ears. A weird pressure. He looks up again. A thin line of light appears between the clouds. It's not lightning. He can't move. His breath catches. The city is quiet, like it's waiting. And then, something far above opens its eyes. Max doesn't know it yet.
But his life is about to change forever.
