“Survive.”

The single word hung in the air like a thunderclap.

Del blinked, caught off guard by its stark simplicity. His brain scrambled for meaning, trying to parse the layers of ambiguity behind the command. “Survive? That’s it?” he asked, his tone a mix of disbelief and frustration.

Menolly inclined her head slightly, her calm demeanour unshaken. “That’s it,” she confirmed.

Del leaned forward, the weight of her words pressing him down. “And what happens if I don’t?”

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, her gaze softened—just slightly—though the edge of her composure remained razor-sharp. “If you don’t survive,” she said quietly, “there will be no further need for assessment.”

The cold finality of her statement sent a shiver down his spine. It wasn’t a threat. It was a fact.

“Well,” Del said finally, his voice tight with forced humour, “nothing like a bit of pressure to get me motivated, eh?” He managed a shaky laugh, though it felt hollow, even to him.

Menolly didn’t respond. She simply watched, her silence heavier than any words she might have spoken.

“Care to elaborate? Like, survive what? About my only survival ability centres on getting successfully through the monthly trip to the supermarket.”

That actually drew a small laugh from Menolly, a sound both unexpected and disarming.

“I can assure you that you are unlikely to face a shopping trolley challenge,” she responded. Her tone shifted back to business as she continued, “First, you need to make a decision, and that will determine the first part of your assessment trial. Then things can begin. You’ll be sent to a place where it will take place.”

“Hold on,” Del interrupted. “What place? If I’m going somewhere, then how long? I have a cat, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

As if on cue, Misty stretched languidly and wandered over to her bowl, her movements perfectly timed to underscore her importance.

“I can’t leave her for more than a couple of hours, or she gets feisty,” Del added, watching his cat with fond exasperation.

Menolly glanced at Misty before tilting her head slightly upward. Her eyes flickered rapidly for a few seconds, an unsettling display that hinted at some internal calculation.

“We can accommodate Misty so she can go with you,” Menolly said. “It will only require a small adjustment to the parameters, and she may be of use in aiding your task.”

Del turned to look at his cat. Normally, Misty’s greatest contribution to his life involved devouring anything remotely edible and shedding an impressive amount of ginger fur.

“So, what’s my task, then?” he asked, redirecting his attention to Menolly.

“As I said, Del, you have a choice to make. One of a selection of three possible locations. Depending on the search for other representatives, you may only need to visit one location, or you may need to go to others.” She shrugged, a surprisingly human gesture that caught him off guard.

“At this time, we can’t know. But until the Collective either decides you have proved or failed to prove the suitability of your species, the assessment shall go on.”

‘No pressure, then, Del. Surely someone else is better than me for this shit,’ he thought, the weight of his inadequacy settling heavily on his shoulders.

“Go on,” he said dryly.

“You need to choose one of either past, present, or future.”

“That’s it?” Del asked. “A bit more to go on might be nice.” The sarcasm in his voice rose, competing with his growing irritation and confusion.

“I can’t tell you much or what the Overmind will be looking for specifically,” Menolly replied, her eyes softening with what looked like compassion. “We just don’t know. What I can tell you is that you will, from time to time, be notified of a cuvat.”

‘A what now?’ Del’s brow furrowed. “Pardon?” he asked aloud. “What the hell is that?”

“Think of it as a path, a direction. Sometimes it may be direct, such as ‘go here and do this.’ Other times, it may be more cryptic or obscure,” she explained.

“Once you begin, you will be able to find and review cuvats in your log.”

“So, a quest,” Del said. “Why not just say that?”

Menolly smiled faintly. “Similar, yes, but not quite. A cuvat is a direction from the Overmind. You may well find yourself given jobs or tasks to do as you interact with the people around you. These, you may think of as quests. Sometimes one or more quests may be important in completing a cuvat.” She shrugged again. “Other times, not.”

“I’m sure I’ll figure it out,” Del said, patting his lap to call Misty. The cat obliged, curling into his lap with a low purr. Fur and purrs were always a good relaxant, helping him keep his head straight.

“A simple way to think of it is that a cuvat, though it may not be obvious in what way, will directly provide information to the Overmind and further the assessment one way or another. But not all cuvats will necessarily move your case closer to intervention. Some may even have the opposite effect. Their purpose is to allow the Overmind to directly understand the complexity of a species—all of it, good and bad.”

‘As if my life wasn’t complicated enough,’ Del thought bitterly.

“So, what’s this past, present, future BS all about?” he asked.

“That is the choice you need to make,” Menolly answered. “I can provide you with some limited information to help, but most will be for you to discover as you go along.”

She flicked her hand, and an image appeared beside her in thin air.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Del startled. “What the fuck!”

The image floated, clear and semi-translucent, with no visible screen or projection source. It depicted a grassy hill rolling down towards a stream. The scene rotated as though a camera was panning, revealing the edge of a wood and a herd of unusual deer grazing nearby.

“Some people of your species have theorised that, before recorded history, another ancient civilisation existed. They were right—sort of,” Menolly said, her tone carrying a hint of amusement.

“I have told you that your scientists do not yet understand correctly how time works. This, in some way, relates to the period you see depicted.”

With a motion, she directed the image to glide over the landscape, the perspective shifting as though guided by a drone.

“This is your planet's past, before the Saurons—dinosaurs, you call them—rose. And it will be the time you will have to negotiate and survive if you choose past.”

As the image continued to glide over the landscape, a small village came into view in the distance.

“The people are very similar to your species during what you might think of as the early Saxon period,” Menolly explained. “However, they have existed for over three millennia, so expect some inconsistencies with your knowledge of history. Myth and legend always have an essence of truth to them—a genetic memory, if you like. Your species has a fount of myth and legend, much of it rooted in this distant past.”

Del laughed. “My knowledge of history is what I had for breakfast yesterday and maybe some addled memories of punk rock and the miners’ strikes. To be fair, I spent most of that time pretty hammered.”

“Then you won’t have any preconceived ideas,” she replied with a small smile.

The image shifted, now showing a sprawling city. It wasn’t a place Del recognised, though his limited travel experience hardly made him an expert. At first glance, it could have been any typical urban sprawl—overcrowded, chaotic, and layered with a veneer of grime that seemed universal to cities.

“This is your planet now, and yet not,” Menolly said. “Timelines split and branch, and this is one of those branches. It experiences many of the same controversies and complexities as your own society, but in ways that differ significantly. The path their civilisation has taken leads to some disconcerting differences cloaked in a veneer of familiarity.”

Before Del could comment, the screen flickered again, this time revealing something far more unsettling.

‘What the bejesus—’ Del jumped in his seat, startling Misty, whose claws sank into his leg.

The new image was bleak—a city of towering ruins collapsed into desolation. The sky churned with an angry reddish-brown hue, flashes of lightning illuminating the rain that pelted the wreckage. Scattered among the debris were ragged shanty-style tents, barely holding together against the wind and rain. A handful of people scurried cautiously through the ruins, while others sat listlessly under the tattered remains of their shelters.

“Is that really Earth?” Del asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“An alternate timeline,” Menolly confirmed. “But yes. Your own timeline ends in five years without intervention. This is from a timeline where the asteroid strike never happened and there was, no need for us to become involved.”

“So you are saying, that if it wasn’t for the potential of a big fuck off rock to destroy Earth,” I take a breath. “We wouldn’t be having this conversation, and we would still manage to completely bugger our planet anyway?”

“You are correct.” Was her simple, blunt response.

‘Hmph, blunt but… damn. OK, decision time, Del.’

“So those are my choices, then,” Del sighed, running a hand through his hair. “To be honest, Menolly, the choice makes itself. I’ve had enough of the shit our world is in just now to not want to face another version that might even be worse.”

Menolly’s lips curved into a faint smile. “I didn’t say worse; I said different.”

“Yeah, yeah, semantics, lass. And as for that last one—no, just one big ‘fuck off’ nope.”

“Bear in mind, Del,” she reminded him, her tone measured, “you may well end up facing those other two at a later point—or even other challenges I don’t yet have information on. I can tell you that the decision you make now forms the basis of your first cuvat. The Overmind is already assessing you and refining its data on your species.”

“Big Brother is watching me, then. Damn Orwell for poking his nose into things,” Del muttered with a half-smile.

“My only reservation with choosing the past is I have no idea how to survive without a supermarket or freezer.”

With a flick of her hand, the horror show of the ruined future disappeared.

“Don’t worry, Del,” Menolly said. “In the same way the Overmind dealt with your injuries and health issues during integration, prior to entering a phase, you will be given the basic tools you need to make a start. It’s hard to explain without showing you, but it will become clear when you begin.”

“What happens here when I’m gone?” Del asked, his tone softening. “I don’t have family, but I do have a few friends who might wonder—or worry. And my house?”

Menolly’s expression turned reassuring. “Social media, Del,” she said. “We will create some posts saying how, feeling bored, you’ve gone travelling for a while, and follow up with occasional pictures. I am sure you will enjoy touring the world—vicariously, at least.”

Del chuckled. “Never did make a bucket list, but there are definitely places I wish I’d got to see. I might even get jealous of myself.”

“And we shall secure your home,” Menolly continued, “so you don’t have to worry about anything back here.”

“So that’s it, then?” Del asked, exhaling slowly, the weight of the moment settling heavily on his chest. “Three years to persuade Big Brother this sorry cesspit is worth saving. It’s a really messed-up place with some total arseholes making up a large chunk of it. But it’s ours, and I’d rather it not get cracked like an egg.”

The words lingered in the air, raw and unvarnished, but they rang true. Del leaned back, his thoughts churning like the storm clouds he could almost see gathering in the corners of his mind. The world wasn’t perfect—far from it. The daily grind of it could be maddening, but it was still his world.

He thought about his quiet neighbourhood, the unremarkable streets he walked every day. The familiar faces of the old couple from number seven, always out pruning their garden. The boy who delivered the local paper, even if it was only once a week. It was a small, predictable bubble of life, but even there, humanity’s contradictions showed themselves. Sure, you’d get someone who left their bins out for days or blared their music late at night, but you’d also see neighbours pitching in when someone’s fence blew down in a storm or offering a kind word when things got rough.

‘Three years to prove we’re worth saving,’ he thought, the enormity of it pressing down on him like a lead weight. Could he, one man, really convince some all-powerful entity that humanity deserved another chance?

His stomach churned, that uncomfortable tingle racing up his spine as his pulse quickened. Fear clawed at the edges of his resolve, but it wasn’t alone. Beneath the dread, a strange excitement buzzed, sharp and electric. It wasn’t just adrenaline—though that played its part. It was something deeper: the possibility of doing something that mattered.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. The sheer absurdity of it was almost laughable. Him, Del, the guy who’d spent the better part of the last decade plodding along, surviving from day to day, suddenly thrust into the centre of humanity’s last-ditch effort at survival.

A life of dull monotony, and now—this.

“Bloody hell,” he murmured, running a hand through his hair. “I always wanted to make a difference… just didn’t think I’d be the bloody poster boy for the species.”

‘Tuesdays are never normally this exciting, mate,’ Del mused. ‘Or is it Thursday? Thursdays are fun.’

“That’s the final thing to explain to you, Del,” Menolly said, standing and stepping toward his chair. Her calm, measured voice seemed at odds with the storm of thoughts in his mind. “Time—it works differently for this. Three years here could feel far longer in your experience. Certainly, you have a deadline, but I can’t tell you exactly when that deadline is. So be smart and stick to task, whatever that may be.”

Del nodded absently, his gaze drifting to the floor. The thought of time stretching unpredictably was unnerving, but it was just one more thing in a rapidly growing list of unknowns. ‘No point overthinking it now,’ he thought. ‘I’ll figure it out when I get there… or I won’t.’

Menolly crouched, scooping Misty up from where she had been sprawled out on the floor. The cat protested with a half-hearted meow before settling into Del’s lap, her warmth grounding him in the moment. He scratched absently behind her ears, drawing a contented purr that somehow made the whole situation feel both surreal and oddly mundane.

Menolly’s hand reached toward him, her movement slow and deliberate, and touched his forehead.