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8.33% Earth | 9th century AR / PREFACE

PREFACE

The young man was sitting with his legs on the couch, his shoulders leaning against the back. It was evening, the sky changed colors from orange to crimson and was getting darker closer to the horizon line. Lilac haze was creeping from the opposite, eastern side of the celestial sphere. The clearing in front of the living complex was gradually drowning in darkness. There were only a few moments before the external lighting turned on, and all the magic of twilight would shatter. This was his favorite time of the day, a special hour when the ancient luminary star hides beyond the horizon while the Earth continues rotation around the axis and towards the night.

A soft warm blanket covered his legs. With his cheek rested on his hand, he traced his bulging stomach with his fingers in anticipation of the next impatient kick from the insides.

And so – the streetlights blinked and began to light up. He sighed, turned away from the window, fished a tablet from behind and quickly ran his fingers across the screen.

'Greetings, young generation! Finally, nothing distracts me from sharing the latest news that changed the course of history forever. For the who-knows-for-what-time in a row. This has been happening so often over the past thousand years that I won't be surprised if I witness another few eras change before the upcoming Christmas! Things escalated so swiftly that even I, a representative of the "renewed race", still cannot wrap my head around this all. However, everything is real. And you have the right to know how exactly things are now and how they were. After all, you will hear this not from some kind of an outside observer or a green humanoids' race being. I myself will tell you everything. I'll tell you my story. I'll tell you about your story. I'll tell the story of the Earth after cleaning. And how we gained hope for a rebirth in the era of the fall of the entire human civilization.'

He read the introduction a few more times frowning and biting his lip. Well, it could be worse; sounded slightly snooty, but he had no desire to fix anything right now. A key recognition alert beeped in the hallway. His features smoothed, a smirk ran across his lips, mischievous sparks lit up his eyes. He heard a rustling noise in the next room, and then the guest proceeded to the bedroom, where, in fact, the beginning chronicler – our hero of the story – was waiting in the darkness. Their glances crossed: milk chocolate met black bottomless abysses.


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