The day started like every other—grey skies, the constant hum of the wind, and a stillness in the air that had started to feel more oppressive with each passing week. Jas and Ivy Mae had settled into a routine, but something was different today. The heaviness in the air seemed to press down on them, and even Milagro, who had been so full of energy, was curled up near the fire, resting.
Jas sat by the window, watching the storm clouds gather on the horizon. The wind was picking up, swirling around in angry gusts, and the scent of ozone was thick in the air. The strange power surges had started happening more frequently, but this time it felt different.
Suddenly, without warning, the lights flickered and then buzzed to life, bright and steady. But it wasn’t just the lights—it was the whole house, all the electrical devices, suddenly working as though the grid had been reconnected. Jas froze, unsure of what was happening, their fingers hovering over the old radio.
Before they could even think to check, a strange image flickered onto the screen of the old TV they had scavenged. It was like a Zoom call—dozens of faces appeared, distorted and pixelated, but clear enough to make out. The sound was garbled, but one thing was unmistakable: the people on the screen were scared. Terrified, even.
Jas squinted at the screen. There was Justin Trudeau, standing beside Angela Merkel. In the corner of the screen, they could just make out Donald Trump’s face, his expression more anxious than Jas had ever seen. And then there were other leaders—some they didn’t even recognize, but all of them appeared to be in the same boat: trapped in a digital meeting as if they were connected but also cut off from the world. The faces were tense, drawn, with eyes wide and voices full of fear.
"Listen," Trudeau’s voice cracked through the static, "We’ve done everything we could. There’s no more hiding from this. This... this is it. The world we knew is gone. The storms, the fires, the heatwaves—none of it is going to stop. This is the end of the world as we’ve known it."
Ivy Mae appeared beside Jas, drawn by the strange, unnerving voices coming from the TV. Her face paled as she watched the conference unfold.
“We thought we could contain it, we were wrong,” Merkel’s voice chimed in, sounding distant. “We didn’t act fast enough, didn’t take it seriously enough.”
“Stop!” Trump’s voice boomed. “We’re going to get through this! We’ll build again!” But even as he spoke, there was no confidence in his voice—only panic.
Jas’s heart raced as the leaders continued to talk over one another, the transmission becoming more and more chaotic. The only thing clear was the sense of finality in their words.
"We’re running out of time," said another voice, one that was unfamiliar but filled with authority. "The planet is reaching a tipping point. We’ve crossed the threshold. If we don’t act now, we’re not just facing climate collapse—this is civilization’s last chance."
The screen flickered again, the image distorting. The voices became muddled and incoherent, as if the connection was being severed. Jas reached for the remote, but before they could turn it off, the image snapped back into focus, and the faces of the leaders were replaced with a warning:
“No way out.”
The lights blinked off again, plunging them back into darkness. A cold silence filled the room.
“What just happened?” Ivy Mae whispered, her voice small and uncertain.
Jas stared at the blank screen, their heart still pounding in their chest. “I don’t know… but that didn’t feel like a glitch. It felt like a warning.”