THE END OF THE END

Years had passed since the Kahramanmaraş earthquake. On television, the cold phrase “the wounds have healed” had long since become nothing more than a shroud covering the truth. In reality, no wound had ever healed. No city had truly come back to life. What people called daily life had become nothing more than the struggle to make it through one more day.

The cities destroyed by the earthquake were no longer the cities they had once been. Their streets were different. Their people were different. Everything was slowly fading into a quiet collapse.

Then, one day, a small piece of news appeared on page three of two newspapers in western Turkey. Almost no one paid attention to it.

Yet it was the beginning of everything.

A massive crack had opened deep beneath the southern part of the country. It was so enormous that scientists believed it could tear Turkey away from the Arabian Plate. Silently, the crack continued moving eastward, growing like a scar stretching all the way to the Iranian border.

People were too busy trying to rebuild their own lives to notice what was happening after the great earthquake.

But in the south, the city of Hatay was slowly sinking.

After every heavy rain, the flooding was still explained away with the same simple words: “It rained too much.”

But the water swallowing the city was not rain.

It was the sea, silently filling the empty spaces beneath the sinking land.

Its quiet invasion seemed to whisper a truth that no one wanted to hear.

Meanwhile, as all of this was happening unnoticed in the south, a series of powerful tectonic tremors struck western Turkey.

Some were strong enough to sink both sides of the Aegean coast in a single night.

Yet these warnings never became more than brief news reports, nor did they leave any lasting impression on people’s minds.

These seemingly insignificant tremors were not just the beginning of a disaster for the Aegean region. They were the silent first link in a chain of earthquakes that would change the entire world forever.

A small shift here would set off a domino effect, upsetting the balance of the continents and triggering a series of movements deep within the Earth’s crust. Before long, those fractures would spread across the planet.

In a quiet town near the city of Eskişehir in western Turkey, a little boy was playing with his ball in a neighborhood park. When it rolled into a small wooded area beside the playground, he ran after it.

The moment he picked it up, he hurried back to the bench where his mother was sitting. He was still breathing hard.

“Mom… the ground is talking. It’s growling.”

His mother looked at him for a moment, then dismissed it as nothing more than a child’s imagination.

“Go on, keep playing,” she said before turning back to the conversation she had been having with the woman beside her.

Clutching the ball to his chest, the boy ran back to the playground.

If only she had taken him seriously, she might have realized that what he called the ground talking was actually the sound of the Earth breaking deep below…

…the very beginning of the end.

They stayed at the park until early evening. When it was time to leave, the woman called her son, and together they started walking home.

The boy bounced his ball along the sidewalk as they walked. Yet, without realizing it, both of them kept glancing down at the pavement.

As they turned onto the street where they lived, the woman finally understood why she had been looking at the ground ever since they had left the park.

Thin cracks had appeared across both the sidewalk and the road.

Some looked fresh. Others were wider and deeper. As they continued walking, it almost seemed as if new cracks were quietly forming before their eyes.

She assumed it was because of the poor ground conditions in their town. The neighborhood had been built on land created by filling in an old riverbed, so she didn’t give it another thought.

She had no idea…

The ground really was speaking.

That evening passed just like any other.

The father came home from work. They sat down for dinner, shared a meal, talked about their day, drank tea, and moved into the living room. They turned on the television, and the flickering light of a program that no one was truly watching drifted across the walls.

Later, everyone went to their rooms.

The house settled into the quiet of what seemed to be an ordinary night.

In the middle of the night, the woman suddenly woke, thinking she had heard her son calling her.

Still half asleep, she sat up. A second later, she realized it hadn’t been her son’s voice at all. It was a deep, low rumble coming from within the house itself.

The floor was trembling — slowly, steadily, and without stopping.

Her heart began to race.

She immediately shook her husband awake.

“Get up! Earthquake!” she whispered, though her own voice sounded strange even to her.

At that very moment, their son burst into tears.

The woman jumped out of bed and ran to his room, with her husband right behind her.

Although they lived on the first floor, they were the last family to get out of the building.

The moment they stepped outside, they saw the entire neighborhood already gathered in the street. Their neighbors, still wearing their pajamas, stood staring at their swaying homes, trying to understand what was happening in the darkness.

They joined the others and waited for the shaking to stop.

But it didn’t.

Instead, unlike any earthquake they had ever experienced, the tremors grew stronger every few seconds.

It was as if the Earth itself was struggling to break free from something buried deep within.

Everyone held their phones, desperately trying to get news before the communication networks completely failed.

Then, less than a minute later, a sound rose from beneath the ground so overwhelming that people instinctively covered their ears.

It wasn’t just a loud noise.

It was the sound of something breaking.

The world beneath the darkness was being torn apart.

Even in the middle of the night, they could see thick clouds of dust and smoke rising from the ground.

With every breath they took, it felt as though they were about to suffocate.

Suddenly, the ground beneath them gave way.

The entire section of land collapsed, taking buildings, cars, and people down with it as if a massive pit had opened beneath the surface.

Screams filled the air.

The ground had simply disappeared.

Within seconds, seawater rushed in to fill the enormous void. The roar of the water merged with the screams, becoming one overwhelming sound of terror.

The woman pulled her son tightly into her arms.

Her husband reached them from behind, grabbed them both, and threw them toward the iron fence that stood at the edge of the ground that had not collapsed.

The three of them managed to cling to the fence while foaming water swept rubble past them below.

The collapse finally stopped, and the deep rumbling rising from the earth gradually faded away.

Holding tightly to the iron fence, they waited through the rest of the night, hoping that help would come with daylight.

As the first pale light of dawn appeared on the horizon, the scale of the disaster slowly came into view.

The land itself had been torn apart during the night.

They were not the only ones hanging from the fence.

A few others had also managed to escape the dark waters that had swallowed everything beneath them and cling to the edge.

But no one spoke.

No one could understand what had happened.

The world had changed in a single night…

…and there was no going back.

They remained hanging from the fence for what felt like forever.

Their strength was beginning to fail when several hands reached down from behind and pulled them to safety.

A few people on the other side of the fence had heard the screams before dawn and rushed to help.

When all three finally climbed over the fence, they collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath.

By then, the sun had risen high enough to drive away the darkness and reveal the full extent of the devastation.

The first emergency response teams had already arrived.

Volunteers were running in every direction, doing everything they could to help.

Shouts, radio calls, and the wail of ambulance sirens filled the air.

Someone led them to a tent.

They went inside and let their exhausted bodies sink to the ground.

Volunteers brought them some food, but they barely noticed what they were eating.

Soon, they drifted into sleep — not because they felt safe, but because they were too exhausted to comprehend what had happened. Their minds were as drained as their bodies.

They tried to sleep for a while, but outside the tent the chaos never stopped. The shouting, the sirens, and the constant rush of people only grew louder.

Finally, they stepped outside and, struggling to stay on their feet, began walking toward the place where their home had once stood.

Then they stopped.

None of them could find the words to speak.

The street where they had lived — and everything beyond it — was gone.

It had simply vanished.

They had lived in a district of Eskişehir, close to the Ankara border, far from the sea.

Yet now, an endless stretch of water lay before them.

They stood there in silence, trying to understand what they were seeing.

A vast sea now filled the horizon.

The heavy clouds of gas and dust rising from the shattered land made every breath difficult.

The woman held her son a little tighter.

The man stared at the jagged edge where the earth had collapsed. His lips moved, but no words came out.

Everything beyond the place where they were standing had disappeared overnight.

An entire stretch of land had been erased from the map.

Not knowing what else to do, they simply stood there, staring out at the sea.

It was as if the horizon had wiped away not only the land, but their past as well.

After a long silence, they slowly returned to their tent.

They sat on the ground facing one another.

None of them felt like talking.

They couldn’t think.

They couldn’t even cry.

The shock had settled deep inside them.

Finally, the man broke the silence.

His voice was tired, but steady.

“We should go south… to your relatives.”

“It will be safer there.”

The woman didn’t argue.

She wasn’t in any condition to.

The only thing they knew for certain was that they could no longer stay where they were.

The next morning, they gathered a few supplies from the relief organizations and set out toward the south.

But there was something they didn’t know.

The land in western Turkey had collapsed all the way to the Ankara border of Eskişehir. The coastline had retreated as far as Konya in the south, Karabük in the north, Kırıkkale in the east, and Aksaray in the southeast.

Ankara was now an island.

And this was not a disaster limited to Turkey.

The vast landmass that had once been Europe had disappeared beneath the sea. The enormous territory once known as Russia had suffered the same fate.

From Ankara Island westward to America, eastward to China, and southward — except for Israel — there was no remaining land.

As they drove south, they expected to find crowded highways.

Instead, they saw groups of people wandering aimlessly, still trapped in the shock of the disaster. They looked like people walking in a daze, unsure of where to go or what to do.

The family couldn’t understand what they were seeing because they still had no idea of the true scale of what had happened.

Everyone they met told a different story.

The details were often contradictory, but every story was just as terrifying.

It wasn’t only the coastlines that had disappeared.

Most of the islands had sunk beneath the sea.

Entire cities had vanished.

Streets and highways were covered with the bodies of the dead.

And the most shocking rumor of all…

Cyprus had been completely erased from the map.

It was unlike anything they had ever heard before.

The woman’s throat tightened.

The man gripped the steering wheel a little harder.

Their son sat silently in the back seat.

They had no other choice.

Both of them had relatives in the same southern city, and going there was their only hope.

So they kept driving.

Their fear grew with every kilometer, but stopping seemed even more dangerous.

As they continued south, they began to notice something else.

The air was becoming harder to breathe.

A thick smell of broken earth and heavy gases released by the collapsing ground filled the atmosphere.

After driving only a few more kilometers…they finally understood why so many people had turned back.

The man slammed on the brakes.

The car came to a stop just a few meters before the edge of the land.

There was no road.

The land simply ended.

They struggled to understand what they were seeing.

According to the map they had with them, they had only just entered the district of Konya that bordered Ankara.

The man and his wife both got out of the car.

Still shaken and unable to keep their balance, they leaned against the vehicle and stared at the sea stretching out before them from the edge of the cliff, where gas was still rising from the broken earth.

Both of their faces turned pale.

For the first time, their son looked up from the back seat.

The man turned the car around.

Even the sound of the engine felt unfamiliar now.

Only a few minutes earlier, the sea before them had taken away the last direction they could have traveled.

The woman sat silently, staring ahead.

Their son watched the world outside through the window from the back seat.

No one spoke.

The scenes they witnessed along the road slowly revealed the true scale of the disaster they had survived.

After a while, they began seeing abandoned vehicles along the roadside.

Some had their doors wide open.

Others had their trunks emptied.

Beside a few of them, people wrapped in blankets sat in silence.

As they rounded a bend, they came across several people walking along the road.

They carried backpacks on their shoulders.

Not a single face looked like it belonged to someone who knew where they were going.

The man slowed the car and called out to a middle-aged man walking by the roadside.

“What happened? Where are you going?”

The man looked at him with tired eyes.

“I don’t know,” he replied.

Then he continued walking.

The driver watched him for a long moment.

For the first time in his life, he realized that he, too, no longer knew where he was going.

As they continued, military vehicles and relief convoys began to appear.

The trucks were loaded with blankets, water, and boxes of food.

Some were heading south.

Others were returning north.

But none of them carried any signs showing where they were going.

It was as if they, too, were simply moving.

When they reached a gas station, they slowed down.

It was impossible to tell whether there was any fuel left.

People were shouting, pushing one another, and trying to fill the containers they were holding.

One man had grabbed another by the collar.

“I’ve been on the road for three days!” he shouted.

The other man answered with the same anger.

“So have I!”

No one was listening to anyone else.

Without stopping, the man kept driving.

The woman quietly said,

“People are terrified… They don’t know what to say or what to do because they’re so afraid.”

The man said nothing.

Because he believed this was something far greater than fear.

A little farther ahead, a long line of vehicles came into view.

The road had come to a complete standstill.

The man got out of the car and walked ahead to see what had happened.

About half a kilometer farther on, he saw that the middle section of the bridge had collapsed.

What had once been a small stream was now a massive chasm hundreds of meters wide.

Half of the bridge was hanging in midair.

People trying to cross stood there helplessly, staring down into the abyss.

Some had abandoned their vehicles and started walking.

When the man returned, his face was even paler.

The woman didn’t ask what had happened.

She already knew from the look in his eyes.

They checked their phones over and over again.

There was no signal.

The man tried several times to call his brother.

He couldn’t reach anyone.

The same message appeared on the screen every time:

“No network available.”

After a while, he turned off his phone.

The woman put hers back into her bag.

They were no longer trying to call anyone.

Because they were afraid of getting no answer.

For a while, they stood looking out over the plain below.

In the distance, clouds of dust were rising into the air.

Here and there, they could make out areas where the ground had collapsed into enormous sinkholes.

The man remained silent for a long time.

Then, as he sat behind the steering wheel, he said only one sentence.

“No matter what happens, we have to reach Ankara.”

The woman nodded.

They got out of the car and packed their belongings into their backpacks.

The man stopped one last time and looked back.

Then he slipped his backpack over his shoulder.

“Let’s go.”

He said nothing else.

They joined the stream of people walking toward Ankara.

Behind them was a world that had collapsed.

Ahead of them was Ankara — a city whose condition they could only imagine.

Mothers carrying their children…

Elderly people leaning on walking sticks…

Young people moving forward with backpacks on their shoulders…

No one knew whether they would ever reach their destination.

But everyone was walking in the same direction.

Toward Ankara.

As the hours passed, the roads became worse.

First, they saw small cracks.

Then freshly formed sinkholes…

And later, enormous craters that had swallowed entire sections of the road.

Hot steam was rising from some of them.

The earth was still breaking…

Still growling.

At one point, the boy stopped.

He quietly looked down at the ground.

Then he tugged on his mother’s hand.

“Mom…”

The woman bent down.

“What is it?”

The boy whispered in fear.

“The ground is talking again.”

The woman couldn’t answer.

Because this time…

…she could hear it too.

They walked all day.

They had no idea how far they had come.

For hours, they had been passing broken roads, split fields, and destroyed villages.

By now, they were no longer surprised that they saw almost no living people in the places they passed through.

Everywhere they looked, there were only bodies.

In front of them, behind them, and on both sides of the road, crowds of people kept moving in the same direction.

Everyone was exhausted.

Hardly anyone spoke.

Toward evening, as the air began to cool, they reached the slope of a high hill that lay ahead of them.

That was when they noticed the crowd beginning to slow down.

A few minutes later, everyone had come to a complete stop.

Some people stood by the roadside.

Others silently stared at the horizon.

The strange thing was that no one was speaking.

No one was shouting.

No one was crying.

No one was asking questions.

It was as if everyone had frozen at the exact same moment, unable to move after seeing what lay before them.

The man, his wife, and their son made their way through the crowd and climbed a little higher up the hill.

When they reached the top, they understood why everyone had fallen silent.

The landscape before them no longer belonged to the world they had known.

The endless plains that had stretched across the land for years were gone.

The fields, the villages, and the roads had all disappeared.

The man first turned around.

A vast sea stretched all the way to the horizon, sparkling beneath the sunlight.

Only a few days earlier, the wind had carried the scent of wheat fields.

Now it carried the smell of saltwater.

He stood there silently for a long time.

He could hardly believe what he was seeing.

Places that had been dry land only a few days before now lay completely beneath the sea.

Then he turned his head toward the north.

In the distance, he could see Gölbaşı, a district of Ankara.

The district had suffered severe damage.

Some of the taller buildings had collapsed.

Entire neighborhoods had been badly damaged.

The boy tugged on his mother’s arm.

“Mom… is that Ankara?”

The woman couldn’t answer.

The man kept looking at the city for a long time.

Finally, he took a deep breath.

“So… it really survived.”

But a few seconds later, he realized the truth.

Even the last narrow strips of land leading to the city looked as though they were about to break away.

At that moment, he understood Ankara’s true situation.

Ankara had not been saved.

Ankara had been left alone.

That was why everyone around them had fallen silent.

No one was simply looking at the city.

Everyone was thinking about the old world that had disappeared in just a few days.

The view from the hill revealed more than a changed landscape.

It revealed a life that had come to an end.

They could not shake off the impact of what they had seen from the hill for a long time.

After standing there for a while, the crowd slowly began moving again.

They joined the others and continued walking toward Ankara.

The city was not as close as it had seemed from a distance.

They walked until darkness fell.

The farther they went, the more people they encountered along the roads.

It was no longer only those coming from the south.

People from the east, the west, and the north were all converging at the same destination.

Every face carried the same expression.

Exhaustion.

Fear.

Uncertainty.

They spent the night beside the road.

Some people were trying to build small fires.

Others had wrapped themselves in blankets provided by relief organizations.

Some simply sat in silence, staring at the dark silhouette of Ankara in the distance.

With no electricity, the city was completely swallowed by darkness.

Apart from the occasional beam of a distant searchlight, nothing could be seen.

When morning came, they started walking again.

As they drew closer to Ankara, relief tents began to appear along the roadside.

Soldiers and volunteers were handing out water, bread, and hot soup to the people arriving.

Long lines had formed in front of the tents.

Everyone was asking questions, searching for missing relatives, or sharing the latest news they had heard.

The rumors spreading from one person to another along the road often contradicted each other.

Some claimed that Eskişehir had been completely swallowed by the sea.

Others insisted that wasn’t true.

Some said the Black Sea coastline had disappeared.

Others spoke about the cities in the east.

No one had reliable information.

The phone networks were still down, and in most places the radios no longer worked.

People had no choice but to rely on whatever they heard.

Around noon, they reached the first military checkpoint.

Trucks and heavy construction vehicles were lined up on both sides of the road.

The soldiers were letting people through in small groups and trying to register everyone who arrived.

Faced with such an enormous crowd, it was obvious that they themselves were not entirely sure what to do.

After days of traveling, they finally reached the Gölbaşı district of Ankara.

They headed toward the lake they had heard about.

They had been told that after passing the lake, they would reach the back neighborhoods of Çankaya by climbing the long hill ahead.

When they entered the district, the scene before them was no different from the places they had left behind.

Most of Gölbaşı had been destroyed.

Smoke was rising from every direction, and fires were still burning in some areas.

Rescue operations continued among the collapsed buildings, while heavy machinery worked without stopping to clear the rubble.

Enormous sinkholes had opened where apartment buildings, businesses, and even mosques had once stood.

Some of these sinkholes had filled with water rising from underground, turning into small lakes.

Every corner of the district bore the scars of the disaster.

Along the sidewalks lay people covered with sheets and blankets.

There were more dead than survivors.

Those who were still alive were trying to help the living first, while there was simply no opportunity to care for the dead.

The family found shelter in one of the relief tents set up at the foot of the hill leading into Ankara.

They drank the hot soup that was given to them and ate a little bread.

They rested for a while.

Then, after taking some of the water and food distributed by the relief workers, they set out once again.

By now, exhaustion had settled deep into their bodies.

Their feet were covered with blisters, and their clothes bore the marks of days spent on the road.

Even so, they could not stop.

Together with dozens of other people, they slowly began climbing the hill that led into Ankara.

With every step, the city grew a little closer.

But at the same time, the true scale of the disaster became even more apparent.

By late afternoon, the back neighborhoods of Çankaya came into view.

After walking for days, they were completely exhausted.

When they finally reached the top of the hill and the road leveled out, they sat down beside the road to rest for a while.

After catching their breath, they got back on their feet and continued walking into the city.

The scene before them was no different from Gölbaşı.

The bridge leading to the old bus terminal had collapsed.

On the left, Armada and the large business centers across from it had been destroyed, leaving enormous sinkholes in their place.

The sinkholes were filled with water.

The air was still thick with dust, earth, and gas.

Breathing was difficult, and with every step they could taste soil in their mouths.

The roads, sidewalks, and open spaces were filled with rubble.

There were so many dead that the living and the dead had almost become part of the same landscape.

Those who had survived were doing everything they could to help the injured, but they no longer had the strength to deal with the dead.

When they reached the collapsed bridge, they didn’t know what to do.

After looking around for a while, they headed toward the relief tents that had been set up in the old bus terminal area.

They ate something and rested for a while.

The relief workers there told them that the main aid center had been established in the former Hippodrome area, around the Atatürk Cultural Center.

If they wanted more complete information, they would have to go there.

So they set out once again.

Instead of going through the front of the old bus terminal, they headed toward the Ministry of Treasury and Finance.

As they walked, they constantly watched the ground, trying not to step on rubble or bodies.

After a while, they realized they had taken the wrong direction.

But they no longer had the strength to turn back.

So they decided to continue their journey through Kızılay.

As they approached the General Staff Headquarters, the sight of military units, relief vehicles, and field hospitals gave them their first real sense of hope.

For the first time in days, a faint smile appeared on their faces.

But when they turned toward Kızılay, that hope quickly faded.

An enormous sinkhole had opened where the Ministry of National Education once stood.

The massive crater had swallowed not only the building but everything around it.

Gas was still rising from inside the sinkhole, and fires were still burning in some places.

There simply were not enough emergency crews to deal with them.

Helping those who had survived had become the more urgent priority.

They continued on their way.

Emek Business Center had collapsed.

Shattered glass and chunks of concrete were scattered everywhere.

Kızılay Square was no different.

The square where people had once gathered, waited for buses, and gone shopping was now filled with rubble, bodies, and silence.

The building that had been constructed on the site of the old Kızılay Building had collapsed, leaving behind a large water-filled crater.

By the time they reached the Officers’ Club, the scene had not changed.

Very few buildings were still standing.

When they reached Zafer Square, they saw that most of the newly constructed buildings had either completely collapsed or suffered severe damage.

In contrast, some older buildings, such as the Officers’ Club, were still standing despite all the damage they had endured.

The Hittite Deer statues at the entrance to Kızılay had been torn from their place and lay face down on the ground.

The old Ministry of Health building had suffered heavy damage but was still standing.

In contrast, the area where Abdi İpekçi Park had once been had collapsed, leaving behind an enormous crater.

Smoke was still rising from inside it.

Sıhhiye Bridge had collapsed.

The Faculty of Language, History and Geography, the Girls’ Institute, the Ankara Radio building, and the Turkish Aeronautical Association building had all been damaged, but they had managed to remain standing.

Opera Bridge, however, had split in two.

A huge crater had formed where the courthouse once stood.

It had filled with water and looked like a small lake.

After passing the Opera district, they continued on their way.

The Opera House and some of the surrounding buildings had suffered severe damage, but they had not completely collapsed.

When they reached the area where the former İller Bank building had once stood, the man stopped and looked around for a while.

The mosque that had been built on the site after the original building was demolished had collapsed, leaving behind an enormous crater stretching all the way to Gazi High School.

The crater had filled with water.

Once again, there were more bodies than survivors around it.

The family could no longer endure the heavy smell spreading through the air.

Covering their mouths and noses, they continued walking toward Gençlik Park.

The pool in Gençlik Park had overflowed, leaving the walkways underwater.

Most of the park had collapsed, turning into a gigantic crater.

From a distance, it was impossible even to recognize the park.

Some of the buildings along İstiklal Avenue were still standing, but most had suffered severe damage.

Making their way through the rubble and the bodies, they finally reached the main relief center that had been established around the Atatürk Cultural Center.

When they arrived where the relief workers directed them, they no longer had the strength to remain standing.

They quietly sat down on the ground.

For a long time, none of them said a single word.

Some time earlier, relief organizations and military units had managed to reach the warehouses of Ankamall — which was now nothing more than a pile of ruins but had once been a shopping center visited by thousands of people — as well as the storage facilities of the large supermarkets nearby.

Although most of the goods on the shelves had been looted during the first days, a significant portion of the food stored in the warehouses had been saved.

Now, the bread distributed at the relief centers was being baked in mobile ovens, and hot meals were being prepared in large cauldrons.

Most of the canned food, drinking water, and other essential supplies were being brought from those warehouses.

Throughout the day, trucks traveled back and forth through the ruins under military escort, transporting every kind of food and drink that could be found to the relief centers.

The man noticed a crowd gathering in one area.

Curious, he walked toward it.

The woman and the boy followed behind him.

In the middle of the crowd stood a large display board.

Pinned to it was a large map that had obviously been drawn only recently.

Beneath the map, soldiers and relief workers were trying to explain something to the people gathered there.

The man made his way through the crowd until he reached the front.

Before looking at the map, he glanced around.

The area where they stood had not escaped the disaster either.

An enormous sinkhole had opened where the former Police Headquarters had once stood.

Nothing of the building remained.

The crater had filled with water, and gas was still escaping from its edges.

There were still piles of rubble waiting to be cleared.

Bodies could be seen among the ruins and along the roads.

Some were covered with blankets.

Others had only pieces of cardboard placed over them.

The survivors had no time to care for the dead.

The living had to come first.

After silently taking it all in, the man turned back to the map.

But the moment he looked at it, he froze with his mouth slightly open.

The capital, Ankara, was now an island.

The nearest remaining landmass was Israel.

To the west, no land could be seen all the way to America.

To the east, only China, Japan, and South Korea remained visible.

America had broken apart into islands.

The other countries had also lost significant portions of their land.

As the man continued studying the map in disbelief, activity suddenly began at the relief center.

Several officials walked toward the middle of the square, trying to get everyone’s attention.

At the same moment, a burst of static came from the loudspeakers that had been placed around the area.

Little by little, people stopped talking.

Those waiting in front of the tents, those standing in line for food, and those gathered around the map all turned their attention toward the loudspeakers.

A few moments later, a man’s voice came through the loudspeakers.

“Attention. Please listen to this announcement from the Ankara Temporary Coordination Center.”

The conversations across the square came to a complete stop.

The man looked away from the map and listened.

“As a result of the work carried out over the past few days, new information has been obtained. Search and rescue operations around Ankara are continuing. Efforts to register the surviving citizens are also ongoing.”

After a brief pause, the official continued.

“Within the last two days, rescue teams from Israel, the United States, China, Japan, and South Korea have arrived in Ankara. These teams are not only taking part in relief operations but are also helping prepare the new world map and identify the surviving population.”

Some people in the crowd looked at one another.

The official continued speaking.

“So far, our investigations have found no remaining landmasses other than Ankara Island, Israel Island, China Island, Japan, and South Korea.”

A deep silence settled over the square.

Many people lowered their heads.

Others turned to look at the map.

“The search operations are continuing. However, this is all the information we have at this time.”

Without realizing it, the man turned back toward the map.

The official continued.

“Over the coming days, registration will continue at all relief centers, and the available resources will be distributed in an organized manner. Our highest priority at this moment is to provide shelter, medical care, and food for those who have survived.”

There was a brief silence.

Then the official spoke his final sentence.

“The only thing we must do now is survive.”

A short burst of static came through the loudspeakers once again.

Then the announcement came to an end.

The people remained where they were for a long time.

The man slowly walked back toward the map.

This time, he was no longer looking only at Ankara.

He began studying the world that had been left behind.

As evening fell, the activity at the relief center gradually began to slow down.

The food distribution had ended, and the crowds in front of the medical tents had become smaller.

Even so, the area was far from silent.

On one side, generators continued to run.

On the other, relief trucks kept arriving and leaving.

Just as they had throughout the day, the soldiers and relief workers continued working through the night.

The relief workers showed the family a tent where they could stay along with dozens of other people.

Inside the tent were people like them who had come from different cities.

Some sat beside the only family member they had left.

Others silently stared at the ground.

Some were trying to sleep, thinking that for the first time in days, they were finally somewhere safe.

The woman and the boy fell asleep after a short while.

The man, however, couldn’t sleep.

He stepped outside the entrance of the tent.

The air had grown cooler.

Most of the relief center was illuminated by floodlights set up by the Chinese teams, powered by energy drawn from the atmosphere.

From a distance, hundreds of tents could be seen beneath the lights.

Beyond them, darkness began.

In the darkness, the silhouettes of collapsed buildings could still be seen.

Here and there, lights shone from areas where debris removal was still underway.

He stood watching the surroundings for a while.

Then he took a few sips from the plastic bottle of water beside him.

For the first time in days, he finally had a chance to stop.

Until that moment, they had done nothing but walk, flee, and struggle to survive.

Now, for the first time, he had time to think.

He turned and looked back at the tent.

The woman and the boy were asleep.

Just a few days earlier, even the fact that they were still alive would have seemed impossible to him.

After a while, the sound of someone crying came from a nearby tent.

Then another from somewhere else.

After that, silence settled over the camp once again.

Nearly everyone who had reached the relief center had lost someone.

Some had lost their spouses.

Some had lost their children.

Some had lost their parents.

Others had lost their entire families.

The man lifted his head and looked up at the sky.

The clouds had cleared.

The stars looked brighter than ever.

For a brief moment, everything felt normal.

Then he looked at the ruined buildings in the distance.

There was nothing normal left anymore.

After sitting there for a while longer, he slipped his hand into his pocket.

His fingers touched an olive pit.

Only then did he realize that he had been carrying it in his pocket for days — the pit he had planned to plant in the garden after eating the olive at home.

He took it out and held it in the palm of his hand.

A faint smile appeared on his face.

He had learned that habit from his late grandfather.

His grandfather never threw away the pit of any fruit he ate.

Whenever he found a suitable place, he planted it instead.

Throughout his childhood, that was how he had always known him.

He gently ran his thumb over the olive pit.

For a brief moment, he remembered his grandfather.

Then he slipped the pit back into his pocket.

He stood up and returned to the tent.

He lay down beside his family.

For a long time, he couldn’t fall asleep.

He listened to the sound of the generators outside the relief center, the distant noise of vehicles, and the occasional voices rising from somewhere in the camp.

Eventually, exhaustion overcame his thoughts.

He closed his eyes.

He fell asleep on the first night after the end of the world.

The next morning, activity at the relief center began before sunrise.

Relief workers walked between the tents, calling everyone back to the center of the square.

Before long, the people gathered once again in front of the platform.

The man took his place in the crowd with his family.

This time, there were not only Turkish officials standing on the platform.

There were also people wearing different uniforms and clothing.

Some of them had insignias on their shoulders that the man had never seen before.

A brief burst of static came through the loudspeakers.

Then the announcement began.

“As a result of the assessments carried out over the past few days, work has begun to identify the habitable areas of Ankara Island.”

The crowd listened in silence.

“Our highest priority is to provide safe shelter for those who have survived.”

The speaker looked down at the file in front of him.

“Debris removal operations are continuing across many parts of the city. We will soon begin clearing areas that pose serious health risks.”

The people in the square listened carefully.

“Unfortunately, the number of those who lost their lives is greater than the number of survivors. Therefore, following the recommendations of the public health authorities, designated mass cremation and sterilization sites will be established.”

After those words, a deep silence settled over the square.

No one objected.

Everyone understood why it was necessary.

The speaker continued.

“We have begun identifying land suitable for agriculture. The soil is now one of our most valuable resources. Every usable piece of land must be protected.”

Without realizing it, the man thought of the olive pit in his pocket.

“Teams from Israel have begun installing water recycling systems.”

“Japanese teams are working on setting up temporary energy units.”

“Chinese teams are providing the equipment needed to build new residential areas.”

“South Korean teams are working to restore the communication networks.”

“American teams are supporting the construction of ports and transportation infrastructure along the coastal regions.”

Ankara Island would also contribute through agriculture and production.

For the first time, the people gathered in the square were hearing something concrete about the future.

The speaker addressed them one last time.

“The old world will not return.”

After those words, the entire square fell silent.

“But together, we will build a new world.”

The man turned from the crowd and looked at Ankara’s shattered skyline.

Several weeks passed.

The relief centers gradually began to lose the chaos of those first days.

Debris removal continued, the survivors were being registered, and new residential areas were being established.

One of the greatest problems during the first days had been the health risk caused by the enormous number of people who had lost their lives.

Thousands of bodies lay across almost every part of the city, and in some areas, there were tens of thousands.

The number of survivors was far too small to deal with them all.

Doctors, medical teams, and specialists from the other surviving countries held meetings that lasted for days.

In the end, they reached a joint decision.

To prevent outbreaks of disease and protect the remaining usable farmland, it was decided that the bodies would be cremated under controlled conditions.

Large cremation facilities and high-temperature furnaces were built in different parts of Ankara.

During the first days, many people found it difficult to accept the decision.

But over time, it became clear that there was no other choice.

For months, the bodies collected from different parts of the city were transported to these facilities.

In this way, the risk of disease was reduced, and the habitable areas could gradually be put back into use.

During the same period, the first settlement plan for Ankara Island was officially announced.

Most of the people attending the meeting listened while standing.

Officials had pinned large maps onto display boards.

On the maps, the districts of Ankara were marked in different colors.

It had been decided that a large part of the city would be converted into agricultural land.

Only the buildings that were still needed would be adapted for essential use.

No new buildings would be constructed.

Many of the remaining areas would be cleared and opened for farming.

Every usable piece of land was to be put to good use.

Money was no longer the most valuable thing in the world.

The most valuable resource was now the soil.

The officials began dividing people into work groups.

Some joined the debris removal teams.

Some were assigned to prepare farmland.

Others began working in the newly established storage facilities.

Everything that was produced would be collected in shared warehouses and distributed according to need.

The Israeli teams were installing new water purification systems.

The Japanese teams were designing lightweight and durable homes that could withstand future earthquakes.

The American teams were helping build the new port areas.

South Korean engineers were working to restore the communication systems.

Meanwhile, scientists from China were adapting the thorium-based energy systems they had been developing for years for use on Ankara Island.

It was said that the new energy centers would be able to supply power not only to Ankara but also to the other islands.

The people listened in silence.

For the first time in days, the discussion was no longer about death.

For the first time, they were talking about the future.

The man stopped in front of one of the display boards.

On the map, Kızılay, Çankaya, Etlik, Keçiören, Yenimahalle, and the other districts were marked in different colors.

The places where people had once lived, worked, and shopped would now become agricultural regions.

The city was changing.

Perhaps, for the first time, it was truly changing.

Without realizing it, the man reached into his pocket.

His fingers touched the olive pit once again.

This time, a faint smile appeared on his face.

Because for the first time, he believed there would one day be soil where he could plant it.

A few weeks later, the relief organizations at the Atatürk Cultural Center began putting into action the plans they had prepared in coordination with the other surviving islands around the world.

Countries no longer existed.

The few remaining islands and the several million people who had survived across the world had all been officially registered as Citizens of the World.

Each island shared its resources with the others, and they worked together to ensure the survival of humanity.

And so, on the new world, a new life began.

A new plan had also been prepared to provide shelter for the survivors.

The school buildings, public facilities, and apartment blocks that had remained standing after the earthquake were inspected one by one.

The inspections revealed that most of these structures were not suitable for long-term use, that many had suffered severe damage, and that they could not be repaired.

As a result, large tent cities and prefabricated housing settlements began to be built, starting from the area around the Atatürk Cultural Center.

Random construction was not allowed near the agricultural land.

All new development was placed under strict control.

From then on, only the relief authorities and planning teams would decide where new settlements could be established.

No one was given private property.

The main reason for this was that usable land had become extremely limited.

It was decided that every usable piece of land had to be devoted to production.

Because that production was vital not only for Ankara Island but also for the other surviving islands around the world.

Agriculture and production had become humanity’s highest priority.

Homes were no longer places that people owned.

They had become living spaces that people used for as long as they were needed.

Families were assigned housing according to the size of their household, and any homes that became vacant were given to newly arriving survivors.

The construction of new housing continued only within the large leveled area around the Atatürk Cultural Center.

The man and his family were assigned to one of the prefabricated settlements on the northern side of the AKM, near the former Ankamall area.

Every morning, the family woke before sunrise.

After eating the breakfast they were given, the man joined the cleanup and agricultural work around Güvenpark.

In the evening, he returned to the small prefabricated home where they were living.

The woman had been assigned to work at a medical facility.

The boy attended classes with the other children.

Life was now very different from what it had once been.

But for the first time in a long while, he felt that people were no longer struggling only to survive.

They were beginning to adapt to their new lives.

One of the first decisions that stood out in the new plans for Ankara Island concerned Kızılay.

The area, which had once been Ankara’s center of commerce, transportation, and business, was no longer considered necessary for those purposes.

The new administrative center was now taking shape around the former Hippodrome and the Atatürk Cultural Center.

Relief warehouses, registration centers, medical units, and the operational areas of teams arriving from other regions were all concentrated there.

For that reason, a different decision was made for Kızılay.

It was decided that most of the district would once again be converted into agricultural land.

The work continued for months.

First, large cremation furnaces were built to deal with the bodies that had become a serious health hazard.

Then, buildings that were at risk of collapsing were carefully demolished.

After that, thousands of tons of rubble and broken concrete were removed from the area.

The soil that had been buried beneath asphalt for years began to emerge once again.

In some places, workers had to dig several meters down before they could reach the earth.

Heavy machinery worked day after day.

The unusable buildings along both sides of Atatürk Boulevard were cleared away.

The debris around Sakarya and Yüksel was completely removed, making the land suitable for farming.

Not all of the area, however, was transformed.

Güvenpark would be preserved.

According to the new plans, the park would remain a protected green area.

For years, it had stood in the middle of the city.

Now, for the first time in nearly a century, it would once again become one of Ankara’s first great public gardens.

As the months passed, the appearance of Kızılay slowly began to change.

The ruins gave way to freshly plowed fields.

The surrounding roads had been removed.

New irrigation lines were installed.

The places that had once been filled with cars and crowds of people were now planted with vegetables and grain.

Those who had known the city said the view reminded them of the old Ankara.

The years before the city had expanded, when vineyards and fields surrounded it.

It was as if, after a very long time, Ankara was returning to where it had first begun.

One day, while working beside Milli Müdafaa Avenue, which had now become farmland along the edge of Güvenpark, the man stopped for a moment and leaned on his pickaxe as he looked around.

He knew this city because he had once lived in Ankara.

The buildings that had once risen before him were gone.

The concrete had begun to give way to endless fields.

He stood there silently, looking around.

He felt the warm breeze blowing gently from every direction.

He watched the young ears of wheat, just beginning to sprout, swaying beneath the sunlight in the wind.

Then he reached into his pocket.

The olive pit was still there.

This time, he thought the place where he would plant it was no longer so far away.

In his mind, he even gave it a name.

“The Güvenpark Olive Grove.”

He looked at the olive pit in his hand.

Then, gently, he planted it in the soil near the monument.

He covered it with earth and carefully smoothed the surface with his hand.

The imprint of his hand remained on the soil.

He looked at it for a while.

Then he stood up.

Leaning on his pickaxe once again, he rested his other hand on his waist.

From Güvenpark, he first looked to the right, toward the area once known as the Ministries district.

His eyes drifted to the water-filled sinkhole that had formed where the Ministry of National Education had once stood.

For a while, he watched the water shimmering beneath the sunlight.

Then he turned to the left and looked toward what had once been Sıhhiye.

He watched the buildings that had managed to survive, rising among the fields of grain beneath the sun.

Next, he looked at the water-filled sinkhole where the old Kızılay Shopping Center had once stood.

When the sweat running down his forehead reached his eye, he wiped it away with the back of his hand.

But he never took his eyes off the view.

Everywhere had become endless farmland.

Only the outlines of the foundations left behind by the collapsed buildings were still visible.

In fact, with the pickaxe in his hands, he was leveling those old foundations, mixing them back into the soil and turning the land into farmland.

His short break was interrupted by the sound of the pumps that had been installed at the sinkhole lake where the old Kızılay Shopping Center had stood and at the sinkhole lake that had formed on the site of the Ministry of National Education.

At certain hours each day, the pumps started automatically, supplying water to the surrounding farmland.

After listening to the sound of the engines for a while, he returned to his work and continued leveling the soil around Güvenpark, which had now become one vast field.

The work around Kızılay continued for several weeks.

Once the entire area had been cleared of concrete and transformed into farmland, the cleanup teams were reassigned to the Sıhhiye district.

That area had also been severely affected by the earthquake.

Collapsed bridges, destroyed roads, and enormous sinkholes had completely changed the appearance of the district.

However, because more buildings had remained standing than in Kızılay, the work was somewhat easier.

The initial inspections found that the Officers’ Club buildings had suffered severe damage but had not completely collapsed.

After further evaluations, it was decided that the buildings were no longer safe to use as housing.

Instead, after the necessary structural reinforcement, they were designated for use by relief organizations.

The people working in the area received their meals there, and supplies arriving from the other islands were temporarily stored at the facility.

Some of the supplies that were to be shipped to the other islands were also stored there.

Hundreds of people working around Sıhhiye were fed each day with the meals distributed from this center.

The Hittite Deer statues had also been torn from their place and knocked over during the earthquake.

After months of work, they were raised again and returned to their original location.

It was decided that they would be preserved as one of the symbols of the new Ankara.

Although the Ministry of Health building had been damaged, it had remained standing.

After the necessary repairs, it became one of the most important medical centers on Ankara Island.

The area where Abdi İpekçi Park had once stood was completely transformed.

The enormous sinkhole that had formed during the earthquake gradually filled with water, becoming a large lake.

According to the new plans, the lake would be preserved as an important water source.

Later, with the installation of pumps and irrigation systems, a large part of the surrounding farmland began to be supplied by this lake.

The crater that had formed where the courthouse once stood also gradually filled with water, turning into a medium-sized pond.

This area was also incorporated into the irrigation system.

The remains of Sıhhiye Bridge were removed.

Since the railway lines were no longer needed, they were completely dismantled.

The metal recovered from the rails began to be used in the construction of the new settlements and in the production of agricultural equipment.

Most of the roads between the bridge and the Opera district were removed.

The land was cleared.

Areas that had been buried beneath asphalt for years were brought back to the surface.

The Faculty of Language, History and Geography, the Girls’ Institute, and the Ankara Radio building were among the structures that had survived.

While these buildings were preserved, all of the surrounding land was converted into farmland.

The areas that had once been crowded with vehicles and people were now covered with cultivated fields.

Over time, the broad area stretching from Sıhhiye to Opera became one of the most productive agricultural regions on Ankara Island.

After a while, the man also began working in this area.

According to the new plan, his job was now that of a digger.

Every time he drove his pickaxe into the ground, an old paving stone, part of a foundation, or the remains of a forgotten wall would emerge.

They cleared away everything they found, mixed it back into the soil, and prepared new fields for cultivation.

The city continued to change.

Little by little, the concrete disappeared, giving way once again to the earth.

As the work in the Sıhhiye district progressed, the cleanup teams moved on toward the Opera and Ulus areas.

This part of the city had also been severely affected by the earthquake.

Most of the buildings along Talatpaşa Boulevard had collapsed, and the sinkholes that had formed in some areas had completely transformed the landscape.

The medium-sized, water-filled sinkhole that had formed where the former İller Bank building once stood gradually expanded into a medium-sized lake.

After careful evaluation, it was decided that the lake would be preserved and incorporated into the irrigation system.

The Opera House, despite suffering severe damage, had managed to remain standing.

The Turkish Aeronautical Association building, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs building, and the Ottoman Bank were also among the structures that had been saved.

It was decided that these buildings would be used as storage facilities.

They would not be used as residential buildings.

Instead, they would be preserved as structures representing the history of Ankara Island.

The same decision was made for Ziraat Bank, Evkaf Apartment, İş Bank, the First Grand National Assembly, the Second Grand National Assembly, and Ankara Palas.

After structural reinforcement, these buildings began serving as branch offices for relief organizations, storage facilities, and coordination centers.

The rest of the district, however, was not as fortunate.

The ruins along Talatpaşa Boulevard and the surrounding area were cleared away.

The remains of the Lozan Hotel were removed.

The area where Ulus Bazaar had once stood was completely leveled.

Very little remained of the area where the Central Post Office had once been.

After months of work, most of the roads were removed.

The asphalt was stripped away.

The concrete debris was hauled off.

The foundations were broken apart and mixed back into the soil.

The streets where thousands of people had once walked were gradually transformed into cultivated farmland.

The Atatürk Statue standing in the center of Ulus Square, however, was left untouched.

Although the surrounding area had been converted into farmland, the statue was preserved.

Over time, a remarkable sight began to emerge.

The buildings that had once been the heart of the government now stood alone in the middle of endless fields.

The First Grand National Assembly…

The Second Grand National Assembly…

Ankara Palas…

İş Bank…

Ottoman Bank…

Ziraat Bank…

There was no longer a city around them.

There were no vehicles.

There were no crowds.

There were only fields.

These buildings were no longer the centers of the new world.

They continued to exist as memories of the old one.

One day, while working along Bankalar Avenue, the man stopped and looked around.

The street where people had once walked shoulder to shoulder was now covered with waves of wheat swaying in the wind.

In the distance, he could see the Ulus Atatürk Statue.

He looked to the right of the statue.

From there all the way to the old Ankara Castle, where only a few sections of the ancient walls still remained, everything had become farmland.

Looking to the left, he could make out the silhouette of Ankara Palas in the distance.

For a moment, he closed his eyes.

It felt as though a hundred years separated the Ankara he remembered from the Ankara before him.

He felt as if he were standing inside a documentary film.

Then he bent down again.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead.

He drove his pickaxe into the earth.

And he continued working.

After the work around Ulus was completed, the cleanup teams moved on to the Ankara Castle, Hacı Bayram, and Bentderesi districts.

This area had also been severely affected by the earthquake.

Most of the buildings that had been constructed one after another over the years had collapsed, and many others had become unusable.

Very few people had survived in this district.

After months of work, the rubble was cleared away.

The surviving sections of the historic walls around Ankara Castle were placed under protection.

A similar effort was carried out around Hacı Bayram.

While the historic buildings that had remained standing were preserved, the heavily damaged structures around them were removed.

The wide area between the Ulus Atatürk Statue and Ankara Castle was converted into farmland.

The places where houses, shops, and narrow streets had once stood were now under cultivation.

The greatest transformation, however, took place in Bentderesi.

During the earthquake, the old underground waterways were fractured, and the Hatip Stream, which had been buried underground for many years, returned to the surface.

But it was not only the old stream that emerged.

Because of the changes in the Earth’s crust, new springs also broke through.

The amount of water flowing from the area far exceeded anything that had been recorded in the past.

Before long, a broad river had formed along the entire Bentderesi valley.

The areas through which the water flowed were reshaped.

Some of the old roads disappeared completely.

The banks of the newly formed riverbed were secured.

Later, with the installation of pumps and irrigation systems, water from the stream began to be carried to the surrounding farmland.

Most of the fields around Bentderesi were supplied by this water.

The area stretching along Çankırı Avenue was also completely cleared of rubble.

The asphalt was removed.

The foundations were cleared away.

The soil was cultivated once again.

The places that had once been crowded with vehicles and people were now transformed into farmland.

The medium-sized sinkhole that had formed where Ulus Girls’ Middle School once stood gradually filled with water.

According to the new plans, this pond would be preserved.

Later, with the installation of irrigation lines, part of the surrounding farmland began to receive water from this pond.

As the months passed, the appearance of Bentderesi changed completely.

The area that had once been filled with crowded buildings and narrow streets was now covered by vast fields.

Flowing through the middle of them was the Hatip Stream, rushing with abundant water.

One day, the man looked up from the field where he was working and gazed at the stream.

The sunlight sparkled on the surface of the water.

For a moment, the old photographs of Ankara that he had seen as a child came to his mind.

But the landscape before him seemed even older than those photographs.

It was as if the city had returned to the days before it had ever grown.

Then he bent down again.

He drove his pickaxe into the soil.

And he continued working.

As the work around Ulus, Ankara Castle, and Bentderesi progressed, the teams moved toward the southern and western parts of Ankara.

The Çankaya district had also been severely affected by the earthquake.

Many neighborhoods had become uninhabitable, and most of the roads had collapsed.

The most remarkable change, however, had taken place around Anıtkabir.

During the earthquake, the land surrounding Rasattepe had collapsed, creating large cracks and deep depressions in several areas.

In contrast, the hill on which Anıtkabir stood had remained intact and had become even more prominent than the surrounding landscape.

Because of the ground collapses extending toward Demirtepe, Rasattepe now rose like a great hill above the surrounding land.

After careful evaluation, it was decided that Anıtkabir would be preserved.

The heavily damaged buildings around it were removed.

The surrounding area was converted into farmland.

The area immediately around Anıtkabir, however, was left untouched.

It became one of the most important memorial and visiting sites of the new Ankara.

At the same time, large-scale work was also being carried out in the western districts.

The area around the old bus terminal was designated for use by relief organizations.

While many of the buildings that had suffered severe damage during the earthquake were demolished, the terminal building itself was reinforced and preserved.

Relief supplies arriving from the outer islands were gathered there before being distributed to different parts of Ankara Island.

The large sinkhole that had formed where Armada once stood gradually filled with water.

According to the new plans, this lake would be preserved.

Later, pumps were installed, and it began supplying water to the surrounding farmland.

The ruins along Konya Road were cleared away.

The asphalt was removed.

The foundations were cleared.

The soil was cultivated once again.

The places that had once been filled with shopping malls, business centers, and heavy traffic were now covered by vast agricultural fields.

The irrigation canals connected to Atatürk Forest Farm were also redesigned.

As a result, the production areas established in the western districts became one of the most important agricultural centers on Ankara Island.

One day, while working in one of the areas where he had been assigned, the man looked up toward Rasattepe.

Anıtkabir could still be seen in the distance.

The world around it had changed.

The city had changed.

People had changed.

But the monument standing on the hill remained in its place amid all that change.

He looked at it for a while.

Then he returned to his work.

During the reorganization of Ankara Island, one of the areas that underwent the fewest changes was Atatürk Forest Farm.

During the earthquake, many of the buildings in the area had been damaged, and some of the service buildings had collapsed.

Sinkholes had formed at various points across the farm, and some of the roads had become unusable.

Even so, the surveys showed that most of the land was still suitable for agriculture.

For that reason, it was decided that neither the location nor the purpose of Atatürk Forest Farm would be changed.

The damaged buildings were removed.

Facilities that could no longer be used were dismantled.

The areas around the sinkholes were secured.

The farm was reorganized and became one of the largest production centers on Ankara Island.

A significant portion of the products grown there was used to meet the needs of both Ankara Island and the other surviving islands.

After the work around Atatürk Forest Farm was completed, the teams moved on to Gençlik Park and the former railway district.

This area had also been severely affected by the earthquake.

Most of the park had been damaged, and the surrounding buildings had collapsed.

However, inspections revealed that the large pool in Gençlik Park had remained largely intact and was still capable of holding water.

For this reason, it was decided that the pool would be preserved.

Later, with the installation of pumps and irrigation lines, the water from the pool began to be used to irrigate the surrounding farmland.

The railway tracks and rail lines around the old train station, however, would no longer be needed.

In the new world, there was no longer any need for railway transportation.

For that reason, all of the tracks were dismantled.

The steel recovered from the rails was melted down and used in irrigation systems, bridges, and reinforcement work around Gençlik Park.

The vast railway yard was cleared and converted into farmland.

The areas that had once been covered with railway tracks and warehouses were now under cultivation.

The roads surrounding Gençlik Park were removed.

The rubble was cleared away.

The soil was cultivated once again.

Before long, most of the wide area stretching between the Hippodrome and Anıtkabir had been transformed into farmland.

The places that had once been filled with vehicles, trains, and people were now producing wheat, vegetables, and fruit.

Only the old Exhibition Hall was left standing in the middle of the area.

After being repaired, it was assigned to the relief organizations.

Behind it were the remains of Gençlik Park’s old pool and the irrigation system.

The area around the Hippodrome continued to serve as the location of relief centers and residential settlements.

Since the Evkaf Apartments had suffered severe damage, they were no longer considered suitable for housing.

After being reinforced, the buildings began serving as warehouses and logistics centers.

As the months passed, the appearance of the area changed completely.

From Anıtkabir, as far as the eye could see, fields stretched across the landscape.

Only a few historic buildings and relief centers remained among the fields.

Everything else had returned to the earth.

One day, the man looked up from the field where he was working and looked around.

In what had once been one of the busiest parts of Ankara, the only sound now was the wind moving through the crops.

Then he bent down again.

He drove his pickaxe into the soil.

And he continued working.

During the transformation, the hills surrounding Ankara like a great bowl also underwent major changes.

As a result of the collapses and uplifts caused by the earthquake, some of the hills surrounding the city had collapsed, becoming broad and fertile plains.

Very few people had survived in those areas.

The newly formed land was found to be suitable for agriculture and was designated for orchards.

As in the other regions, the bodies of those who had lost their lives there were cremated in the high-temperature furnaces that had been built, in order to prevent the spread of disease and preserve the usable farmland.

After the cleanup work was completed, the land began to be cultivated, and saplings brought from different regions were planted.

The fruit grown there was collected in shared storage facilities and then distributed, together with the products from the other production centers, to the areas where it was needed.

Regular connections had been established between the islands.

People no longer identified themselves as residents of Ankara Island, Israel Island, Japan Island, or China Island.

They identified themselves as Citizens of the World.

Everyone was part of a single global system.

The common rules prepared for the survivors were applied on every island.

Production was the highest priority.

Because the population was so small, everyone had to work.

All products produced on the islands were collected in shared storage facilities.

Vegetables, fruit, grains, clothing, medicine, and all other essential supplies were distributed through a centralized record system.

People no longer had to go to the relief centers and report their needs one by one.

Each person’s age, health condition, occupation, and needs were recorded in the system.

The necessary supplies were delivered to them through distribution centers at scheduled times.

The housing system operated in much the same way.

Homes were no longer considered private property.

People were assigned housing according to their needs, and vacant homes were reassigned whenever they became available.

Because land had become extremely valuable, population planning was also put into practice.

Each family was allowed to have one child.

This decision had been made after long discussions.

The goal was not to control the human population, but to ensure that the available resources would also be sufficient for future generations.

The education of children was completely different from that of the old world.

Once they reached a certain age, children were separated from their families and placed in boarding education centers.

The large buildings that had remained standing on İstiklal Avenue were converted for this purpose.

The children lived and studied there until they were seventeen years old.

Education consisted of much more than classroom lessons.

They received practical training in agriculture, healthcare, engineering, energy systems, communications, maritime operations, maintenance and repair, history, and the arts.

The goal was for every individual to gain knowledge in more than one field.

Later, they were asked to choose the area in which they wanted to specialize.

After graduating at the age of seventeen, the young people served in relief organizations for several years.

Some worked in agricultural fields.

Some joined medical teams.

Some served on ships.

Others worked as assistant staff in the education centers.

After completing this period of service, they could either return to civilian life or continue in their duties if they wished.

Ships operating on regular schedules traveled between the islands at fixed intervals.

Some islands had more advanced technology.

Some had more productive agricultural systems.

Others were home to medical and research centers.

These resources were shared among the islands according to need.

For this reason, there was a strong and continuous exchange of both knowledge and goods.

People did not transport only supplies; they also visited one another.

In the new world, the islands depended on one another for humanity’s survival.

Daily life also gradually settled into a regular routine.

Those who were able to work began their duties at sunrise.

People working in every sector continued until mid-afternoon, after which their rest period began.

In the evenings, concerts, theater performances, shows, and various other events were held in the shared gathering areas established around the Hippodrome.

Although people never forgot the losses they had suffered, they gradually adapted to their new lives.

There was, however, one day each year when life came to a standstill on every island.

Every year, on July 27 — the day the world had changed.

On that day, no celebrations were held.

All work stopped, and the ships remained in their ports.

People gathered in public squares and memorial sites.

On Ankara Island, these ceremonies were held around the Atatürk Cultural Center.

The survivors came together to honor the memory of the billions of people who had been lost.

The dead were remembered, and after moments of silence, people reflected on the solidarity and sacrifices that had made the new world possible.

Because everyone knew that the life they were living had been born from the ashes of the world that had once existed.

The man and his family had long since become accustomed to their new lives.

THE END