The bus came to a sudden stop.
Evan looked up, one earbud still in his ear.
Around him, several passengers complained. An old woman nearly lost her balance. The driver, however, said nothing.
He was staring at the sky.
Frowning, Evan pulled out his earbud and looked out the window as well.
Something was floating above the buildings.
It was huge.
Far too huge.
A dark, silent mass suspended in the gray sky.
For a second, no one on the bus said a word.
Then someone whispered,
"What the hell is that...?"
Evan felt his stomach tighten.
He pulled out his phone.
Notifications were already flooding in.
Breaking news.
Unidentified object sighted in multiple countries.
Authorities urge the public to remain calm.
Remain calm.
On social media, it was already chaos. Videos from all over the world were appearing live. Paris. London. Tokyo. New York. The same object. The same silence. The same fear.
Without warning, the driver opened the doors.
Several people got off immediately. Evan followed them.
Outside, the street was frozen.
Cars had stopped in the middle of the road. Some people held their phones up to record. Others simply stared at the sky, mouths half open.
The ship did not move.
That was the most terrifying part.
If it had attacked, everything would have been clear. The danger. The need to run. The panic.
But this...
It was just there.
As if it were watching.
As if it were waiting.
Evan's phone vibrated in his hand.
Mom.
He answered immediately.
"Hello?"
"Evan? Where are you?"
Her voice was shaking.
"I'm outside. I just got off the bus."
He could hear the television behind her. Journalists talking over one another.
"Come home right now," she said. "I don't know what that thing is, but come home."
"Yeah. I'm coming."
"Don't stay outside."
"Okay."
He hung up.
Then he looked up at the sky one last time.
And someone screamed.
Evan turned sharply.
A man had just dropped to his knees, clutching his head. Farther away, a woman collapsed against a car. Others began screaming too.
Then the pain hit him.
Violent.
Like an icy blade driven into his skull.
He grabbed his forehead.
"Ah—"
His vision shook.
Around him, people were falling, screaming, staggering. The sounds of the street became a blur. Car horns. Sirens. Crying.
The pain grew even worse.
Then the world disappeared.
***
When Evan opened his eyes again, he was lying on the floor.
He pressed his hands against a smooth, cold surface.
White.
He pushed himself up at once.
The floor was white.
The walls too.
The ceiling as well.
A perfect cube.
No windows. No doors. No visible light source. Just that uniform white glow, unreal and sterile.
Evan got to his feet, breathing hard.
His phone was gone.
His bag too.
Only his clothes remained.
A few meters away, another man stood motionless.
Past forty. Pale face. Ragged breathing. He too had clearly just realized he was no longer in the real world.
They stared at each other without speaking.
Then the man spoke first.
"Where... where is this?"
His voice trembled.
Evan shook his head.
"I don't know."
The man turned in a circle.
"Is this a joke? What the hell is this? Is it them? Is it the aliens?"
The word hung in the air between them.
Aliens.
Evan did not even have the strength to answer.
The man walked to one of the walls and slammed his fist against it.
"Open up!" he shouted. "OPEN UP!"
The sound echoed briefly.
Nothing else.
No door.
No crack.
No way out.
Evan placed a hand against the wall as well. The surface was icy and perfectly smooth.
He felt his breathing quicken.
"There has to be something..."
But he did not believe it.
A sharp beep rang out.
Both of them looked up.
Red numbers appeared on one of the walls.
15:00
The countdown immediately began.
14:59
14:58
The silence grew even heavier.
Then a voice echoed through the room.
Clear.
Cold.
Emotionless.
Impossible to tell where it was coming from.
"Welcome."
Evan froze.
So did the other man.
"Two human subjects confirmed."
"Beginning trial."
Evan's heart suddenly started pounding.
The voice continued.
"Rules:"
"One-on-one confrontation."
"Time limit: fifteen minutes."
"Victory condition: death of the opponent."
The man stepped back at once.
"No... no, no..."
The voice went on, merciless.
"If no death is recorded before the time limit expires, one subject will be eliminated at random."
"No outside objects have been authorized."
"Any attempt to escape is impossible."
"Please act freely."
Then it fell silent.
The timer kept counting down.
14:31
14:30
A shiver ran through Evan's entire body.
The man across from him was looking at him differently now.
Not like a stranger.
Like a threat.
"Wait," he said, raising his hands. "We're not doing this. Okay? Let's calm down."
Evan stared at the red numbers.
Victory condition: death of the opponent.
His throat tightened.
"Maybe we can just... wait."
The man nodded quickly.
"Yeah. Yeah, exactly. We do nothing. Maybe they're bluffing."
But he did not sound like he believed it either.
A few seconds passed.
Then a minute.
Then two.
Neither of them really moved.
They simply kept their distance.
Every small gesture made the other tense up.
Every glance brought the fear back.
"What's your name?" the man finally asked.
The question felt absurd.
And yet, it was maybe the only normal thing left in this room.
"Evan."
The man lowered his eyes for a moment.
"Marc."
The timer kept falling.
11:52
11:51
Marc tried to laugh, but the sound died immediately.
"This isn't possible... You can't ask people to do something like this..."
Evan said nothing.
He felt like if he opened his mouth, he would throw up.
Marc started pacing around the box, never getting too close. Sometimes he punched a wall. Sometimes he ran his hands over his face.
Evan, on the other hand, remained almost motionless.
He thought about his mother.
About her phone call.
About what she might be doing right now.
About the thought he still refused to face.
The timer dropped below ten minutes.
Then below eight.
Neither of them had attacked.
But something was changing.
At first, they had been two victims trapped together.
Now they were two men who knew exactly what was waiting for them.
Chance.
Or worse.
Marc suddenly stared at the timer with empty eyes.
"So if we do nothing..."
He did not finish the sentence.
Evan finished it in his head.
One of us dies anyway.
Marc ran a trembling hand through his hair.
"I have a daughter."
Evan looked up at him.
Marc's eyes were red.
"She's eight," he said. "Eight."
Evan felt his chest tighten.
He thought of his mother again.
Then of himself.
Of this box.
Of the fact that someone, somewhere, had decided that one of them had to disappear.
"I don't want to die," Marc whispered.
"Neither do I," Evan replied.
Silence returned.
Heavier than before.
The timer read:
03:07
03:06
Marc backed up until he hit the wall behind him.
Then, suddenly, he started moving again.
Not to attack.
More like a panicked animal.
He walked, turned back, stopped, stared at Evan, looked away, breathed too fast.
Evan could feel his own fear rising.
The last two minutes were the worst.
Every movement felt like it could trigger something.
Marc stepped forward once too often.
Evan instinctively backed away.
Marc immediately raised his hands.
"No, wait, I wasn't trying to—"
A few seconds later, Evan moved a little too suddenly himself.
Marc took a step back as if Evan were about to jump on him.
Their breathing was becoming more and more uneven.
The timer kept dropping.
01:12
01:11
They still had not fought.
But the fear was already doing the job.
Marc shook his head.
"We can still wait."
Evan did not answer.
00:38
00:37
Marc looked at Evan.
Then at the timer.
Then back at Evan.
His posture shifted slightly.
Not a real attack.
Just that horrible turning point when the desire to survive starts taking up more space than anything else.
Evan felt his whole body tense.
Marc made a sudden move.
This time, Evan stepped back instantly.
Marc moved halfway forward, as if he already regretted it.
The two men froze again.
Neither dared go any further.
00:12
00:11
Evan's heart was pounding so hard it hurt.
00:05
Marc whispered something Evan could not hear.
00:03
00:02
00:01
00:00
The timer stopped.
The silence was absolute.
Then the voice returned.
Just as cold as before.
"End of trial. No deaths confirmed."
"Two living subjects detected."
"Random selection of the eliminated subject in progress."
Evan stopped breathing.
So did Marc.
For one second, nothing happened.
Then Marc suddenly turned his head, as if he had felt something.
A red dot appeared on his forehead.
Tiny.
Perfect.
Marc did not even have time to understand.
An impossibly thin red beam pierced straight through his head.
Clean.
Instant.
His body remained standing for a fraction of a second.
Then his legs gave out.
He collapsed onto the white floor.
Evan took a step back, all color drained from his face.
He stared at the body without blinking.
"No..."
His voice was barely a breath.
A few seconds later, Marc's body began to dissolve.
As if it were being erased.
His silhouette blurred, fragmented, then disappeared completely.
Nothing remained.
No blood.
No trace.
Only the white floor.
Only the silence.
The voice echoed one last time.
"Subject eliminated."
"Trial complete."
"Return of surviving subjects scheduled at the end of the allotted time."
Evan did not move.
He stared at the spot where Marc had still been standing a second earlier.
The white floor.
The emptiness.
Nothing else.
His throat tightened.
He wanted to step back, but his legs were shaking too badly.
The silence inside the box had become unbearable.
The timer still displayed 00:00.
Nothing else happened.
As if the box were forcing him to stay there a little longer.
To look.
To understand.
Marc was gone.
Erased.
As if he had never existed.
Evan pressed a trembling hand over his mouth.
His breathing was short and uneven.
He had barely moved for fifteen minutes.
He had barely fought.
And yet someone had died in front of him.
Because chance had decided it.
Because he had been spared.
The thought made him want to vomit.
Then, without warning, the light flickered.
The floor seemed to give way beneath his feet.
And everything vanished.
***
Evan reappeared in the street, in the exact same place where he had been before.
Around him, dozens of people were coming back at the same time.
Some dropped to their knees.
Others started screaming immediately.
A woman was crying out a name over and over again. A man was turning in circles, his eyes empty. Farther away, someone was sobbing so hard it sent chills down Evan's spine.
The ship was still there.
Huge.
Silent.
As if nothing important had just happened.
Evan shoved a hand into his pocket and grabbed his phone at once.
His hands were shaking so badly he almost dropped it.
He called his mother.
One ring.
Then a second.
Then a third.
Nothing.
He hung up and called again immediately.
Again.
Still nothing.
A cold fear twisted through his stomach.
He started running.
He crossed the street without looking. Nearly slammed into someone. Kept going.
Everywhere, it was chaos.
People were calling their loved ones.
Others stood frozen in the middle of the sidewalk, as if they had not fully returned yet.
Phones were ringing all around him.
His own stayed pressed to his ear.
Still no answer.
When he reached his building, the front door was half open.
He ran up the stairs two at a time.
Second floor.
The hallway was silent.
Too silent.
The apartment door was half open too.
Evan stopped dead.
His heart was beating too fast.
"Mom?"
No answer.
He pushed the door open.
The television was on in the living room.
Journalists were talking nonstop about the global phenomenon. Words were scrolling across the bottom of the screen. Disappearances. Deaths. Panic.
Then Evan heard a sound.
A phone.
Or rather... another phone.
He took one step forward.
Then he saw it.
His mother's phone was lying on the floor, right in front of the television.
The screen was still lighting up.
It was his call.
His.
His own name was displayed on it.
Evan stood frozen.
His breath caught.
He looked around him.
The living room.
The couch.
The television.
The phone still vibrating on the floor.
And the absence.
A total absence.
No answer.
No sound.
No body.
Nothing.
His gaze slowly dropped back to the glowing screen.
Then he understood.
His mother had been taken too.
Sent into a white box.
And she had not come back.
The phone nearly slipped from his hand.
Evan was not even crying yet.
He just stood there in the middle of the living room, unable to look away from that phone ringing into the void.
Outside, across the entire city, the same scene was probably repeating itself everywhere.
Calls with no answer.
Homes that were too quiet.
Loved ones who would never come back.
And above it all, in the sky, the ship was still waiting.
As if this massacre were only the beginning.