With my long, chestnut-parted hair resembling the barren wastelands drowning in silence, I pondered where my life will end up next.
I was walking across a dune, my gaze more desolate than the innumerable grains of sand scattered beneath me.
The reason why I was stranded in a dessert, and why I wasn't living the ordinary life once promised by the old modern world was because of…
Bawake, a catastrophic event for almost all Earth's Societies, including the one I lived in, America.
The year was 2052 when it happened.
Bawake—it marked the beginning of an era in Earth's history so woeful, that even I, a self-aware pessimist, found myself unprepared for its arrival.
Optimism had always evaded me, especially after my eighteenth birthday. Enlisting into America's workforce snuffed out whatever remaining spark I had for life's meaning. I carry an odd name—a strange mind, and perhaps, an even stranger fate.
I am Vett Yellip, the most discontented soul in the known cosmos.
Before Bawake, I was a miserable office worker. Run of the mill pretty-boy of the office.
I didn't love it. Didn't hate it either.
But bawake?
I… cherished it like it was my lifeforce.
Bane of Society. Death Dread. Terror Bringer.
Names, titles—there were many. Countless attempts to label this catastrophic apocalypse.
Yet in this precise moment, only one descriptor truly captures the Earth's wretched state.
"Bawake, chaos's Incarnate."
With Earth's death tolls in the billions and fear now as instinctual as breath, the morally upstanding civilians who did survive…
Well, let's just say flexibility became their most sacred virtue.
Then there I was. My skinny tall, but also lean muscular frame striding with subtle confidence through what felt like an infinite desert.
The facial strucutre I owned was simply perfect. People used to obsess over me. Those simpletons, how could they not notice?
I'm nothing but a flesh bag.
While my hair was probably my third-best feature, I'd adorned myself with a few aesthetic enhancements—iconic touches meant to provoke, not just impress. My lips were coated in a deep matte black lipstick, bold and unwavering, the texture of natural chaps just barely peeking through the sleek pigment. It wasn't that I was "feminine" in the way some use the word, laced with derision and disdan.
No, femininity, as I've come to understand, isn't tethered to gender at all. It's a trait, found soley on the pathetic side of humanity.
And who, exactly, was going to stop me from wearing black lipstick?
If they dared, their physique would no doubt be laughable in comparison to mine.
As for my spectacular hair, I was rocking long, straight, parted brown hair that flowed down to my lower back—yet never once did it veil the sharp chill of my cold, egocentric visage. Pairing with my brown eyes, my face was... beautifully calm-like.
The attire I wore was designer, something I'd bought before Bawake turned the world inside out.
Worn on my body was a forest-green Balenciaga tee, a bold star emblazoned at its center, with the word Balenci engraved like a relic of forgotten luxury. Paired with baggy Chrome Hearts cargo pants that swayed with every step like inputs from a bygone era of street fashion, the ensemble screamed an effortless edge.
It was real fashion, and cinched at the side of my waist draped a Prada belt.
Lastly, at my sculpted cheekbones—near the temples had symmetrical cybernetic lines that ran down both sides of my face.
Two black lines traced from both of my temples to my jawline.
These parallel lines were my cyberware implants etched into flesh, covered partially by my parted hair.
Speaking of, my cyberware system was chatting again.
Yeah… he's a real expressive one. I've come to see him as one of my greatest friends…
Him being real or not, didn't really matter to me.
"I know this might breach the system's program, but your outfit is truly exceptional," said the gravelly male voice speaking in my mind.
Responding as if this was a normal occurrence, I replied to him.
Me and the system were… friends.
"I know. Cost me a pretty penny also. Look... I know I've asked this a million times, but where the hell am I? How do I leave this place...?" I replied, my hair moving loosely across my forehead, never really covering my eyes unless my head moves a certain way.
"You know I can't tell you. A puzzle would be no trick if it couldn't be solved." Said the system, where I, rolled my eyes while responding.
"Yeah yeah, the worlds completely fucked. But lucky for me, I can handle it."
Thinking back on it, the wording could've been better.
But… those words were no lie.
I remember the days—before Bawake—when human life held an equal value. When you could be who you wanted to be, and power didn't dictate your worth. Back then, we were all weak, together.
Daily, I've had the distant thought that Bawake was a gift to someone like me. But then, morality catches up.
Bawake to me was a barrier breaking on itself.
Created by God eons ago, was a divide that once seperated the physical world from the digital one. But now, during Bawake, these dual universes were merging, culminating in the deaths of billions.
Billions perished, millions remained. War gave birth to strange new powers. Greed and theft defined strength. And I...
I stood in the eye of it all.
Well…
This world ending event, to be completely honest, was the best thing to ever happen to me.
So, I wonder, were all those deaths for the betterment of myself?
Walking through this windless desert, my eyes blasted with a despair so keen, even the underworld pitied and feared my awareness.
Sometimes, when I would look down, I saw them.
Glaring at me as if I was some common enemy.
The weather in Bawake was bizarre, to say the least. The air still carried oxygen—fifteen percent by volume, but it was thin, difficult to breathe for the unimplanted.
Climate change had slaughtered over half of Earth's population within thirty days of Bawake. Anyone without an implant died from lack of oxygen and scorching heat, a few million being the exception.
It wasn't that breathing was impossible, it was just painfully inefficient. The heat, though—that's what killed most. The news had been grim at the fall of America's infrastructure:
"In a week's time, if your body can't self-regulate with the help of implants, the climate change will kill you. Fire in summer, ice age in winter." A scientist once said on an emergency US broadcast as Bawke surfaced.
Despite this, though…
I, a lean muscular, but cant forget stylish twenty three year old, sauntered through 200 degree temperatures as if I was basking in a tropical summer afternoon.
But don't be fooled. I wasn't some indomitable human free of suffering.
The system took care of the heat so well, it felt no different than a 70 degree weather. Neuritic technologic implants, pioneered and distributed by the wealthiest of compaines had unlocked a nearly limitless amount of possibilities for humanity's evolution.
As such, climate change struck Earth due to Bawake. So, to combat the dangers of climate change, each cyberware unit encased its host in a full-body mesh of Ceramic Fiber—an invisible, adaptive armor shielding every inch of the human body, completely preventing and deflecting heat while keeping your body hot enough to operate. Then, integrated cooling systems ensured that, instead of feeling like they were burning alive, users experienced the comfort of a perfectly air-conditioned room. Of course, settings were customizable. Personally, I dialed mine to 80 degrees. I liked to feel the warmth—like it was still an earthly summer somewhere. Obviously, my system could do that, and more.
The sun blazed mercilessly overhead.
On another note... my eyes, sunken and furious, told the truth of my present suffering.
While others died from exposure, heatstroke, thirst and whatever human ending problem existed, I marched on healthy as can be.
My cyberware kept me alive. Hydrated. Awake.
But, this "cyberware," was not typical or man made.
It was a gift… a talent given from the gods.
Gods, not humans. Whoever granted me this power couldn't have been born of Earth. They had to be superior, sentient beings from an entirely different era… or dimension.
I'd never been touched by a surgeon's scalpel, never laid on a lab table for the implanting process...
Yet somehow, I wielded a hyper-advanced implant that no scientist had ever crafted.
No... this technology was something far more ancient. A mystical system infused into the very being of my neural fabric. It allowed me to elevate and enhance my physicality and cognitive abilities at will. But that wasn't even the full extent of the OCIS. It had a questline, rewards, and functions that could be only described as reality warping.
Involuntary Teleportion, which is how I ended up in this dessert, was thanks to the OCIS moving me through space and time like it was a walk in the park.
When Bawake arrived—when the implants ravaged our society, it wasn't aliens who destroyed the world's government.
It was us, the humans.
We crammed circuitry into our skulls to become superior beings. And in doing so, awoke something dark.
A new age emerged...
One of techno-magic.
But my cyberware? Mine was unlike the rest.
I, Vett Yellip, was the wielder of the singularly Original Cyber Implant System.
The OCIS did not reside on any controlled network, rather, the connection was obscured somewhere in the confines of the realms.
And since it kept me alive when Bawake hit, I owe my very existence to it. The OCIS didn't just appear. It chose me. A few weeks before I was teleported in that sun-scorched wasteland, it awakened and with the power of magic, gave me an otherwordly implant. I was on death's doorstep... and it pulled me back, giving me an implant of priceless value.
Like, I mean that legitimately. I'm not even sure how much it would cost, the thing's hyper-advanced. The system wasn't something I downloaded after; it was pre-installed, like it was part of the implant from the very beginning. Predestined.
I laughed bitterly as I wandered through the dunes, angry at the place I've been stuck in for two weeks now. I ran for the first few days but gave up, ran again, and gave up. The cycle was a constant.
The OCIS was the cause of my cyberware appearing a month before I was left stuck in a dessert.
Within its magical contents that open from thin air is a shop, inventory, a stats page, and an assistant with the personality of a real companion.
Its emerald floating interface would appear in front of me, vanishing the moment I processed the message.
"Huh… the algorithm says I need food or I'll collapse soon. Crazy to think I've gone three weeks without a meal." I said, the green window closing when I read it.
Taking a deep breath, I stared down at the sand underfoot. "Just a regular man," I muttered.
Then I raised my head, smiling viciously.
"Mundane to the core."
Then I shouted toward the sky, "Earth… I swear... ONE DAY I'LL FIND HIM—THAT FAR AWAY STAR CALLED PURPOSE! NO MATTER HOW MANY WORLDS I HAVE TO TRAVEL OR HOW MANY TIMES I HAVE TO EVOLVE, I WILL SEE YOU."
I laughed like a madman.
Then… my expression darkened.
"Earth… you failed me gloriously. And somehow, I'm grateful."
As I said this, I heard a noise. Not a friendly one either.
Dozens of stomps and maniacal screams coming from humans. I heard their footsteps and shouts rushing closer over a giant sand hill I faced.
I couldn't see them yet, but I knew exactly what they desired. I had crossed paths with their kind before when flordia was in mayhem.
Raiders.
Desperate scavengers. Deranged and predatory. Likely hunting me for food and resources.
My stomach growled. I hadn't eaten in a week. My water filtration system, courtesy of the OCIS, was few of my only lifelines.
That's… a story for another time.
As the raiders approached the top of the hill, my thoughts weren't on them.
They were on me.
And if that meant I had to kill once more...
I would, without hesitation.
I surged up the hill at a blistering 60 mph, running with a speed that defied ordinary human limits.
Being propelled by the system's physical enhancements, I reached the summit where I finally saw them.
Thirteen deranged souls. Americans, judging by their ethnicities. They were all white. Tattered clothing and cheap cyberware, I felt bad for them. Their inferior tech seemed to have eaten them from the inside.
They were running at me wielding metal daggers, swords, and bats. Stained with dried blood, I couldn't help but think those weapons had been used to take innocent lives.
I met their charge with silent saunter.
No fear.
Only a calm, menacing stare.
I showed them the face of a man who'd killed before—and would do it again.
Wishing for a painless death, they would pray if they dared attack this grimacing gaze.
I wasn't always like this.
But my system changed me. Sharpened my awareness. Refined my instincts.
It also nerfed what mattered most.
Empathy.
Connection.
Love.
They were embers... still present, but barely glowing.
Nonetheless, I was enjoying myself.
Tilting my head slightly, I said coldly:
"Even if you were me from a parallel universe, none of you are really real to me."
Their eyes widened for a flicker of a moment...
These monsters, bent on killing me, were shortly stunned by the apathy in my voice.
And to think I was empty before.
Their charge intensified. Blunt and sharpened blades drawn for battle.
'I'll give them a chance,' I thought.
I waved gently. "I come in peace. Please stop your assault, I don't want to fight," I called out.
But they didn't relent. Bloodlust blazed in their eyes, wild and ravenous, like a twisted tiger stalking its starving prey.
But fortunately for me, I was far stronger than any tiger.
Glaring once again at their blades, still gleaming with the residue of past killings, I suddenly wondered... were they even human anymore?
As I braced myself to fight back, I heard a chorus of frantic screams, their voices dripping with a deranged hunger.
"You look delicious, all that compacted muscle—YUMMM, DINNER'S LOOKING GOOD TONIGHT!" one man shouted, his enthusiasm echoed by the others, their comments as grim as the last.
My eyes narrowed.
"You want me for dinner? I mean… I don't blame you," I said, my tone frosty as I shifted into a taquedano stance. "But… I kinda like being alive."
Thinking in my head, and about the fact they thought they could eat me... I, with anger instulted them.
"Fucking frivolous insects. I don't care if this is justice or not. I guess we're both just survivors..."
Popping a wide smile, my glossy eyes told a million truths, one of them being...
"Either way, I won't be the one who dies on this beatiful day."