POV : EARTH
The United Nations decided it was time to set up a new world council to deal with the portal crisis. Portal Apocalypse Safety Taskforce Alliance. They didn’t know what a huge commotion this seemingly unimportant decision would make.
The announcement of the new World Council shook Earth to its core. Comprising Russia, Qatar, China, the U.S., and Japan, the council was tasked with making decisions about the portal crisis—but it was a council with teeth. Each nation’s diplomat followed direct orders from their leaders, and any one of the five could veto resolutions, stalling progress in an already chaotic situation.
Other nations seethed. Dozens of countries, left out of the council, felt they had been pushed to the sidelines. They could voice their frustrations in the General Assembly, but everyone knew the real power lay with the five. Korea, recently unified after a North Korean takeover in 2036, found itself both bitter and frustrated. They had no seat at the table.
The council's creation did not signal world governance, only control over portal-related decisions. But the fallout from these decisions rippled across Earth. Panic spread. Conspiracy theories multiplied. Was the council hiding the true nature of the portals? Were they using the technology for themselves?
With no clear answers, chaos became the new normal. Riots broke out in multiple countries as citizens demanded transparency and action. And while the council deliberated, the portals continued to open. What they didn't know, what none of them knew, was just how far out of control things had already gotten in the wasteland.
The troops that had been portaled in were causing havoc all over the wasteland.
‘‘‘‘
"“Have you heard? The council is meeting again today,” a woman murmured to her friend as they waited in line at a tiny café tucked into a narrow street in Paris, the rich aroma of espresso filling the air.
“Ah oui, but what’s the point?” her friend replied, rolling his eyes. “It’s the same five countries deciding everything. We’re just here for the spectacle.”
She frowned, her voice tinged with frustration. “Why do we have no say in this? We’re the ones living with the fear day in, day out! My cousin is in Australia—another portal opened last week, but sure, let’s have Qatar and Russia decide our fate.”
The man in line behind them stepped forward, shaking his head. “And North Korea—let’s not forget them. Ever since they took over the South, it’s like they get a carte blanche. No one even questions it.”
“C’est ridicule,” the friend muttered, crossing his arms. “I mean, no offense to Japan, but we all know the U.S. and China are just going to veto each other. They’re stuck in an endless dance while the rest of us get ripped apart.”
***
In a crowded London pub, similar conversations were brewing. A group huddled around the bar, watching the news flash updates about the council on the television.
"Do you trust those muppets?" a young man asked, swirling his pint.
"Trust them? Mate, they don’t even trust each other," an older man barked back, slamming his glass down. "They say they’ve got things under control, but look around! Another portal opened in Sheffield just last week. People are getting dragged into these wasteland things, and we still don’t know if they can come back! And the council's too busy pointing fingers to do anything about it!"
"I heard they already know how to shut the portals, but they’re keeping it a secret," a drunken woman at the end of the bar slurred, leaning in conspiratorially. English birds always had a loud opinions and this one was no different. "Think about it. How many times have we heard 'classified information' when we ask about what's in the wasteland? What if they're using it to hide something?"
"Wouldn't surprise me," the older man grumbled. "It’s always the same. They sit in their fancy rooms with a cuppa, making decisions while we scramble to stay alive."
In the corner, a couple watched the chaos unfold, shaking their heads.
"It feels like no one’s in charge anymore," the man said, his voice low.
"Yeah," his partner replied, her tone dark. "And we're the ones paying for it.
---
Noticing the rise of misinformation and panic, the newly formed Portal Apocalypse Safety Taskforce Alliance (P.A.S.T.A.) decided they had to make a global announcement.
The U.S. leader's face appeared across screens worldwide, interrupting broadcasts, livestreams, and flooding every corner of the internet. Newspapers, surprisingly still around in 2037 despite the industry’s earlier collapse, also carried the breaking announcement. “Extra extra! Read all ‘bout it!” Newsboys had been hired again a reversion to history long past.
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“Here are the facts about the portals that we know,” the leader began, his tone serious but steady. “First, they’re happening at random intervals. When they started, we didn’t know what was going on, but now we have some understanding. The show ‘Atlas Back to the Present‘ seems to give us a glimpse of what’s happening in the wasteland—the place people are being taken.”
The screen cut to images of flashing portals, chaotic footage of people disappearing from public spaces, leaving behind only stunned onlookers.
“The portals seem to be opening every week now, and we urge you to stay prepared. People disappear without warning, often with nothing more than what they’re carrying at the time. Here’s what we know for certain: ‘‘No children‘‘ or ‘‘handicapped individuals‘‘ have been taken through a portal. This is a fact we’ve confirmed globally.”
The mention of this caused a stir in living rooms, coffee shops, and crowded streets. Disabled communities celebrated, while others wondered if they might find some way to ensure their own safety. One man even said quietly to himself, “Does herpes count as handicapped?”
The leader continued, “We’re working around the clock to understand these portals and will keep updating the public through official channels, available in all languages. Please stay calm, don’t panic. We’re doing everything we can to protect the people of Earth. Thank you.”
As the broadcast ended, a lingering thought hung in the air for many viewers—what wasn’t being said? The government had been tight-lipped about several aspects of the portals, and as always, people began speculating.
The part the government hadn’t addressed directly, but which many had quietly figured out, was the strange loophole involving injuries. While the speech mentioned that children and disabled individuals were safe, it conveniently skipped over the fact that injured people—no matter how minor the injury—weren’t being portaled either.
The wealthy had been quick to catch on, due to their access to back channels. In cities around the globe, hospitals were packed with the rich and powerful nursing minor, self-inflicted wounds. From small cuts to carefully timed sprained ankles, these injuries served as a bizarre form of insurance against the unknown fate of the portals.
One hospital in London was at capacity, doctors treating a bizarre number of minor fractures and stitches for seemingly healthy patients. “Honestly, it's just cuts and bruises,” one doctor sighed, stitching up the finger of a corporate executive. “They come in here acting like it’s life or death, just so they can feel safe.”
It wasn’t publicized, but for the upper class, it was an open secret: A small injury might be the only thing standing between them and the wasteland.
As soon as the leader's announcement ended, chaos erupted across the globe. People, despite being urged to stay calm, did anything but. In major cities, the streets were filled with frantic citizens making a desperate rush toward any store that could provide supplies. Walmarts and Costcos were either packed to the brim with long, snaking lines or outright looted by those too impatient to wait. Little family owned shops in South America were raided.
Shopping carts overflowed with canned goods, bottled water, survival gear, and anything else people thought might help them endure if they were portaled—or worse, left behind. Shelves emptied within hours, fights broke out over the last roll of duct tape or a single flashlight, and stores struggled to keep any semblance of order.
One Walmart manager in Houston stood helplessly as the crowd stormed in, clearing out entire sections before they could restock. "We didn’t even have a chance," he said. "People are terrified. It's like they think building a bunker will keep them from disappearing."
Costco warehouses were similarly overwhelmed, with shoppers elbowing past one another to grab bulk packages of water, batteries, and non-perishable food. Online orders exploded, with Amazon doing a thriving business as panic buying gripped the nation. Delivery drones zipped through the skies, loaded with survival kits and emergency rations as people scrambled to prepare for the worst.
In suburban neighbourhoods, the paranoia ran deep. Families holed up in their homes, stacking sandbags and reinforcing doors and windows, hoping that somehow, they could bunker down and avoid the portals. Some started digging underground shelters, convinced that staying hidden from the world might help them evade the mysterious force that was sweeping people away.
"People don’t believe the government," a man muttered as he tossed a bag of rice into his cart. "They say they’re working on it, but how can we trust them? They barely understand what's happening."
Another woman, rushing to stockpile water, nodded grimly. "They’re keeping things from us. They always do. I’m not taking any chances. I’m locking myself and my family in our basement and waiting this out."
Panic seeped into every corner of society, a constant hum of unease echoing through the world. Social media teemed with wild theories, from whispers that the government knew far more than it let on, to cries that the portals were some kind of divine reckoning. Among the masses, there were those who insisted that resistance was futile—if you were chosen, there was no escape.
The government’s attempts at reassurance fell flat, their statements as flimsy as a leaf in a storm. The streets buzzed with anxious chatter, people glancing over their shoulders, avoiding the eyes of strangers as if one look could mark them next. Beneath the facade of city life, everyone knew one thing: the world was unraveling, and there was no sanctuary.
In the middle of this charged atmosphere, a wild-eyed man stood on the corner, his voice booming above the rumble of nervous conversations. “Repent! Repent!” he bellowed, arms lifted toward the heavens. “These portals, these beasts—they’re not some accident of science! No, they are judgment! The hand of God reaching down to cleanse the world of its filth!”
A small crowd began to form, some watching with morbid fascination, others exchanging uneasy glances, unsure whether to laugh or run. “You think your governments can save you?” he sneered, his voice filled with righteous fury. “No one can save you from the wrath that’s coming! No bunker, no weapon, no army! This is the end of days, the reckoning for all your sins!”
A woman in the crowd clutched her child closer, her face pale, while a man nearby shouted back, “You’re insane! It’s just some freak event!”
But the man only laughed, his eyes blazing. “Keep lying to yourself! Keep pretending you’re safe! Soon, none of you will be laughing. Soon, you’ll all see the truth!”
The crowd broke apart, people muttering nervously as they walked away, casting last glances over their shoulders. The city felt smaller, as if the walls were closing in.
‘‘‘‘