A Solitary View of the End

Do you know the novel The Martian? It's a sci-fi book, also made into a movie, about a protagonist left all alone on Mars who does everything he can to return to Earth... Honestly, you don't need to know the details. My situation is completely different from his right from the start anyway. All you need to know is those iconic first three sentences. An opening so heavily quoted by now that it sounds almost cliché.

I'm pretty much fucked. That's my considered opinion. Fucked. Those three sentences are more than enough to describe my current situation. Oh, of course, I'd have to tweak it a bit. After all, if you're standing alone on the lunar surface watching nuclear bombs detonate across Earth, you don't exactly need a "considered opinion" to know you're fucked.

"Are you fucking kidding me..." I muttered a curse under my breath as I stared at the glowing Earth. My voice crumbled, unable to pierce the vacuum of the Sea of Tranquility.

The main conference room of the lunar colony. I looked up at the transparent ceiling and let out a long sigh.

"This is driving me crazy. What the hell is going on..." Needless to say, I wasn't some seed bank launched into space to safeguard the future of humanity. My mission was to be a spy on the Moon. Of course, the official missions announced by NASA were wrapped in plausible excuses, but the fundamental purpose was to monitor the Red Team.

Ever since China annexed Mongolia and North Korea, the global political landscape had been a complete mess. Tensions ran so high that the old Cold War seemed lukewarm by comparison. Intelligence warfare ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was rampant. Consequently, the leaders of the Blue Team began searching for a radical new solution.

"Wiretapping, kidnapping, and hacking are no longer enough. We need an unprecedented, game-changing solution that no one could possibly anticipate!" That was the secret origin of this project.

An era where information was more precious than gold. A once-in-a-lifetime investment to secure the ultimate asset. Project Celestial Sphere. An arrogant concept to place the entire Earth in the palm of one's hand and observe it from above. A delusion that anyone with common sense would dismiss as impossible. Yet, as it turned out, there was nothing in this world that money couldn't buy.

They forcibly scaled up nanotechnology that was still in its experimental stages. They manufactured observation particles, each functioning as both a sensor and a power generator. Running automated factories, they mixed these particles with fine dust and dispersed them across the entire globe. They were designed to penetrate anywhere humans could reach, anywhere the wind could blow.

And the most crucial component: the control tower. The optic nerve and brain of this "divine eye" were launched into space. Right here, to the Moon. It was a precaution against the Red Team seizing control. No spy, no hack, could ever reach the Moon. We would never allow it.

Up until then, everything had gone smoothly. It was enough to make one's heart swell with awe, realizing what could be achieved when fifty percent of humanity united for a single goal. However, there was just one thing. A tiny, trivial problem at the very tail end of the plan.

Who would have thought I wouldn't even get to use it after the project succeeded? While the completed Celestial Sphere observatory was en route to space, a delightful little hiccup occurred: the world ended.

"Unbelievable, seriously..." During my three-day journey to the Moon, the war broke out. While World War II had dragged on for six years, World War III was over in just nineteen hours. Concluding in the form of mutually assured destruction for every single nation.

The festival ended in the blink of an eye. Only a tedious reception followed. Warlords, no longer functioning as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sovereign nations, launched missiles fueled by pure vengeance. Viewed from the lunar surface, it looked like a massive fireworks display. The entire Earth glowed in a kaleidoscope of colors. The five oceans, the seven continents, and even the satellites in orbit burned in vibrant hues.

Communication with headquarters? Severed, of course. I hadn't even dared to hope for it in the first place. Most of the satellites had been blown to pieces, and Earth itself was in an unspeakable state. A demonic realm dominated by nuclear detonations, biochemical weapons, rampant viruses, and bioweapons. A living hell where mutated creatures groaned in agony. The pale blue dot was gone. In its place remained only a primitive, gray mass shrouded in dust and debris.

If headquarters had somehow survived in a situation like that, I would have been suspicious. After all, NASA headquarters was one of the primary targets for a preemptive nuclear strike. When I checked just in case, the facility had already been reduced to ruins. Only scavengers were picking through the corpses amidst the collapsed buildings.

A sudden shift from a modern spy thriller to post-apocalyptic survival. If a web novel pulled a genre drift like this, the author would be absolutely crucified in the comments. And of all things, the author of this reality had to be Earth itself. Dammit. What a creative piece of shit. I hung my head in despair. The sense of responsibility and patriotism that once filled me had long since evaporated alongside the fireworks. I stared blankly out into space and thought:

What do I do now? Naturally, there was no answer.

Time passed. Enough time for resignation to morph into acceptance.

I wept in deep sorrow, threw furious tantrums, and smashed whatever objects I could lay my hands on. I scraped out every single emotion bottled up inside me and spat it out. Only then did my reason finally return. What did I need to do? What did I need to check? Gradually, productive thoughts began to surface. Thanks to that, I was able to spend the last few hours engaged in actual, productive activity for the first time in a while.

...The situation isn't as bad as I thought. I took stock of my assets. Shelter. Food. I meticulously checked every item that could immediately affect my survival. The results were surprisingly positive.

Aside from the severed connection with headquarters, everything was functioning perfectly. The facility had been designed with long-term lunar colonization in mind. Although it had been merged into Project Celestial Sphere halfway through, its structural integrity remained solid. It would easily last for decades.

Food was also plentiful. The colony's stockpiles alone could sustain fifty people for six months, and the spacecraft I arrived in was packed with ample emergency rations. I wouldn't have to shovel feces to grow potatoes like the protagonist of a certain novel. That was a massive relief.

The only downside is that I have no way back. But looking at the state of Earth right now, this place might actually be more livable. I recalled the current state of Earth as seen through the Celestial Sphere observatory. Ruined skyscrapers reduced to ash. Air polluted with fluorescent smog. Wild animals mutated by radiation and biochemical agents. A post-apocalyptic landscape straight out of a movie.

Compared to that, how was this place? Ample space, abundant food, and absolutely no need to worry about safety—it was quite literally heaven (pun intended). Of course, the lack of entertainment was a shame... but the Celestial Sphere observatory still worked perfectly. I could at least voyeuristically observe the ruined world. Since it could detect vibrations in the air to reconstruct sound, I could experience the post-apocalyptic world in full 4D. And thanks to the state-of-the-art AI processor, I wouldn't even have to worry about buffering.

...Yeah. This is actually for the best. I decided to look on the bright side. I was lucky. Even if this place was boring, isolated, and forced me to watch the suffering of others without being able to lend a hand—even if I would eventually go mad from loneliness and solitude—at least I was alive. The skeletons beyond those monitors didn't even have the luxury of feeling lonely. I stood up, trying to convince myself.

"..." Well. It seemed three days wasn't quite enough to completely purge my emotions. I needed a distraction. It was time to test the capabilities of the Celestial Sphere observatory.

Time passed. Enough time that I smashed the clock out of sheer resentment for its meaningless ticking, only to regret it later and begin carving tally marks into the wall.

"Morning, Wilson. Sleep well?" Having just woken up, I offered a morning greeting as I headed toward the Celestial Sphere observatory. Today, as always, Wilson gave no reply. Perhaps she didn't like the new hairstyle I had fashioned for her yesterday.

"Tsk. Sorry about that. But I can't fix it today." Unfortunately, I didn't have the time to fix Wilson's hair (composed of spaghetti noodles, duct tape, and clear coat spray). While checking the Celestial Sphere observatory yesterday, I had spotted something strange.

I definitely saw some kind of light. A light floating in midair. Yesterday, the moment I saw it, I figured I was just sleep-deprived and crawled straight into bed. But now that I was awake, curiosity got the better of me. A light that couldn't possibly be compared to the crude lanterns of some scavenger group had appeared in the middle of the African savanna, far from any city. Even though I knew it was absurd, I couldn't suppress a rising surge of hope.

I quickly sat down at the Celestial Sphere observatory and waited for the countless monitors to boot up. The brief loading time felt agonizingly long. In that fleeting moment of waiting, all sorts of thoughts raced through my mind.

It definitely wasn't a natural phenomenon. In that case... What if? Just what if human civilization was rebuilding itself? A faint ember of hope ignited in my chest. If I could somehow convey my thoughts, even partially, from this place where I could only watch and listen. A phone call. A text message. If any form of communication with another human became possible. Maybe they could even reinvent space technology and come to the Moon to rescue me...!

"...???" The problem was— "What on earth is that?" The source of the light was completely different from what I had imagined. It was massive. It was bright. It was as luminous as a lighthouse piercing the dead of night. And that was it. A flood of light tearing through the empty air. A natural wonder showing no signs of mechanical devices or scientific influence. Yet, it was a collection of colors far too alien to be called "natural." If I had to compare it to something, perhaps an aurora. A two-dimensional aurora condensed into an oval shape was flashing in the middle of the African savanna.

...Have I finally lost my mind? It was only natural to think so. I had already spent five years on the Moon. More than enough time to go insane. However, the radiance was far too vivid for me to dismiss it as a mental escape. The imagery provided by the Celestial Sphere observatory was flawless. It was so clear that a malfunction was unimaginable, and the light on the screen was far too realistic for me to blame my own madness. I stared blankly at the colors. After some time had passed, the Celestial Sphere observatory transmitted new data.

Snort... A crash of white rhinos wandering the savanna. Four rhinos, their hides hideously cracked—likely due to the nuclear fallout—approached the colors. The two-dimensional light seemed to intrigue the beasts as well. The rhinos paced around it warily for a moment, then suddenly stamped their feet aggressively. The tanks of the animal kingdom began their charge. The distance closed rapidly amidst a cloud of dust. It wouldn't be long before their sharp horns made contact with the light. And then—beeeeeep. Following a brief ringing sound, the rhinos vanished. Though the dust obscured the view, the Celestial Sphere observatory captured the event with absolute clarity. The moment the rhinos touched the colors, the bizarre aurora flickered briefly, then swallowed the beasts whole.

...! My instincts flared. Something. Something was happening. Even after the rhinos vanished, I kept my eyes glued to the colors. Did that light possess some kind of power that attracted living creatures? Animals wandering the savanna continuously threw themselves beyond the light. The roar of a lion. The charge of a zebra herd. The march of elephants. Beasts drenched in radiation approached as if possessed, vanishing into the colors. Only then did my frozen mind begin to work again.

"Ha." A chuckle of sheer disbelief escaped my lips at the sight that defied all common sense. A door that swallowed living things. Was it a new calamity for this ruined world? Or... was it truly a Gate, the kind that only appeared in novels? I couldn't say for certain, but it was clear that something monumental was unfolding.

Time passed. My conviction that something was going to happen proved entirely correct. Following the emergence of the Gate, the face of the Earth transformed completely from the world I once knew. Yet, it was meaningless to me. All of those wonders were taking place 380,000 kilometers away.

And so, even the wonder of the otherworldly Gate faded into routine. The tally marks on the wall multiplied until they resembled a solid sheet of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠black wallpaper. On a day when returning to Earth had come to sound like nothing more than a tasteless joke...

"...?" A young girl tumbled out from beyond the Gate.