Cataclysm (2)
"Phew. I'm nervous."
"How long's it been since we last saw His Excellency?"
"Not since he visited the research center last time, right?"
"He came for an inspection? The president himself? How come I didn't know?"
"You were holed up in the lab. He just stopped by the entrance for ten minutes, snapped a few photos, and left."
"Ah. That explains it."
The United States White House. In the waiting area outside the Oval Office, the scientists sat in a row, fidgeting and chugging water. They were the eccentrics of the scientific community.
They'd finally secured this chance to brief the president directly—no wonder the tension was thick enough to cut.
"Alright, you can go in now. You've got five minutes."
"Yes, thank y— Wait, five minutes?"
"Four minutes fifty-five seconds now. His Excellency's schedule is packed. Make it four minutes fifty."
"Shit! Let's hurry!"
Brushing past the rude secretary, the scientists rushed into the office. The president removed his glasses and extended a hand; they shook it awkwardly.
"Ah, good to see you. So you're the ones..."
"From California. Physicists at Stanford University."
"Right. I heard you made some interesting discovery."
"It's not interesting, Your Excellency—it's serious."
"A threat to the security of the United States?"
"..."
The president asked in a light, joking tone. The scientists exchanged uneasy glances. One finally spoke up.
"Not just the United States, Your Excellency—the entire universe is in danger."
"Oh! The universe! That's fascinating. My sons are obsessed with space stuff. Please, go on."
"At the request of oceanographers from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, we reviewed their data. The changes in the marine ecosystem off Hong Kong aren't just climate shifts."
"I've heard it's unusual. China up to some shady shit again?"
"Not human activity, Your Excellency. We've detected anomalous gravity at 1,000 meters below the seabed off Hong Kong. About one-millionth the strength of Earth's gravity."
"Is that unusual?"
"It's not unusual—it's impossible. The only explanation current science allows is..."
The speaking scientist trailed off. Another stepped forward impatiently.
"A wormhole opened on the seabed. The gravity we're detecting is from a celestial body on the other side. Nothing else explains it."
"What a fantastical tale. We're planning a joint seabed survey with China in Hong Kong anyway. Relations are frosty now, so maybe a year out. Could I call on you as consultants when it starts?"
"Your Excellency! We can't wait a year! If it's truly a wormhole—a spacetime distortion—it could widen, or new ones could appear anywhere in the solar system!"
"Yes, yes, I get the wormhole risks. But no proof yet, right? Keep researching, and come back when you have results."
"Your Excellency, it's time to go."
"Ah, right—I was just heading out."
He patted their shoulders dismissively and strode out. The scientists let out hollow laughs and slumped into chairs.
"Goddamn. They said we'd get to brief him, but this?"
"He wasn't even listening."
"To an outsider, it sounds like bullshit."
"Even so. Getting to the White House means it has weight, doesn't it?"
Was their briefing dismissed as some wild hypothesis? The scientists felt utterly deflated.
They'd earned recognition in physics circles, gathered signatures from countless peers, submitted a formal petition—and this was the reception?
If their explanation held, the anomalous gravity, bizarre substances in Hong Kong, unknown creatures—it all made sense. All spilling from a "other world" beyond the wormhole.
Maybe intelligent beings from that world had linked it to invade Earth. The president clearly didn't grasp the gravity.
"What now?"
"What else? Ramp up monitoring—max out tools and range to spot any new wormholes instantly."
"Let's head back. Plenty to do. James! Where are you?"
"Guys... look outside..."
"...?"
The sky darkened. Sunlight vanished, shadows cloaking the office.
By the time the scientists noticed and looked up, it was too late. An immense rift already blanketed the sky, black snow falling from it.
Reee-ring! The intercom blared as the president burst back in, gasping.
"That! Is that the wormhole you mentioned!?"
"Y-yes... looks like it..."
"What happens now?"
"America's about to turn into Hong Kong... probably?"
"..."
"..."
They added a hesitant "probably," faces blank. Their prediction had come true—no one was celebrating.
"Holy shit."
"Internet?"
"Connected then dropped."
While Yuri roamed the yacht hoisting the antenna, Cheol-woo clicked his tongue, refreshing his laptop nonstop.
Starlink was down. Sky gone to hell messing with satellites? Or overload? Either way—or both.
He gave up on the net, closed the laptop.
"Let's try broadcasts."
"Any luck?"
"Yeah. All Chinese channels."
Not far from the mainland, signals flickered in faintly. All switched to emergency news, blaring Chinese.
Couldn't understand a word, but footage told the story.
Statue of Liberty. New York, USA.
Eiffel Tower. Paris, France.
Big Ben. London, UK.
Mount Fuji. Shizuoka, Japan.
Christ the Redeemer. Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. And more.
"Whoa..."
Giant holes torn in skies worldwide, observed simultaneously. Directions and sizes varied. Some visible from Earth's opposite sides—not one hole, but countless piercing the planet's atmosphere.
Cheol-woo's common sense shattered, yet he stayed eerily calm. Even he was surprised. Had the shock part of his brain burned out?
"W-what now?"
"Stick to plan—head to Australia. Global disaster or not, citizenship matters. Refugees get stripped of gear, yachts seized—no pay."
"Then what in Australia?"
"Survive somehow."
Obviously bad, but maybe it'd blow over. Black dust falls, holes close? The absurdity made mass panic scarier—riots, hoarding, police collapse.
They were prepped: food for three months if rationed, ammo plenty. Secure water, build a bunker in rural Australia, hunker down till calm.
"Let's go."
"Okay... urp."
Mast up, sails billowed—the yacht sliced through waves.
GPS glitched—satellites fucked—but no issue. Han's methods worked day or night.
Decent speed: ten days to two weeks to Oz, full throttle.
Yuri'd need navigation lessons for 24/7 sailing.
"Gahhh!"
"Jesus."
Hours later, Mi-young burst from the cabin, screaming awake. Spotting Cheol-woo, she hiccuped, looked skyward—jaw dropped.
Am I dreaming? Did that bastard Min Cheol-woo kill me grabbing my collar? Is this the afterlife?
"W-what the hell is that in the sky...?"
"Beats us. Offer still stands—what's it gonna be? Lifeboat to Han, or stick with us?"
Mi-young swallowed hard, eyes dropping.
"I-I'll stay..."
"Good. Make food. Minimal waste, maximum fill and flavor."
"How?!"
"Your problem now."
"Oh."
Avoiding his gaze, she scurried inside. Cheol-woo exhaled—recruitment complete.
With sky apocalyptic, survival instincts kicked in? Han better for climbing ladders, but him for end-times.
Pretty sure she's just scared of you... Yuri thought differently but stayed quiet. Didn't matter—Mi-young seemed loyal, no betrayal vibe. Puppy-like.
"Cheol-woo! Internet's back!"
"Communities and news—quick."
He bolted over. YouTube first—trending: Chinese video.
"Not Hong Kong?"
"Manchuria, China..."
Really? They rubbed their eyes.
Burning city. Gridlocked roads. Red-eyed freaks charging, biting, ripping limbs with monstrous strength.
Blue drug mutants—hundreds. Not possible outside Hong Kong.
Next clip: Fukuoka, Japan—mutants rampant. Screams, gore, cut off.
Whatever—blue drug suddenly everywhere.
"Han's fucked."
Mi-young, peeking, sighed in relief. Best choice of her life? Maybe.