Gerard S. Grant was an American physicist born in 1931, a man whose obsession with energy and physics would change the world more drastically than anyone could have foreseen. A genius by any standard, Gerard’s brilliance first captured the world’s attention when, at only 10 years old, he designed a regenerative Gauss rifle. Though not truly self-sustaining, the rifle’s innovative system of solenoids and capacitors recycled a portion of its energy back to its battery. Too advanced for mass production in 1941, the project was shelved. But when young Gerard presented a ship-mounted railgun design using the same technology, the military took notice. The Allies seized on this opportunity, deploying his powerful weaponry in the final years of the war. With railgun-armed ships, they forced an early end to the global conflict, collapsing the German empire and halting Japan’s advance—all without the atomic bomb.
By war’s end, Gerard was celebrated as a scientific prodigy. The Manhattan Project was quietly slowed and remained classified, its breakthroughs whispered about but unseen. For Gerard, though, this was only the beginning. He went on to graduate from MIT in 1949 at the age of 19, holding dual degrees in Electrical Engineering and Theoretical Physics, both with highest honors. His potential was undeniable, and the government, still basking in his war contributions, approached him for a new project. America had emerged from the war as a technological powerhouse, and the administration wanted to solidify that legacy by turning to nuclear power.
It was a grand vision. Gerard would research nuclear reactors to provide abundant energy for a growing nation, casting the U.S. as a technological stronghold. Enthralled by the idea, Gerard poured his life into his research. Within half a decade, he cracked the fission reaction for heavy nuclides, paving the way for efficient nuclear reactors that soon dotted the country. By the early 1960s, these reactors powered the American dream, bringing affordable, near-limitless energy to millions.
Yet Gerard wasn’t satisfied. Even as he improved on nuclear fission, he was haunted by the elusive potential of nuclear fusion—the process that powers the stars. By 1967, Gerard achieved a breakthrough, producing a fusion reaction that operated at an astonishingly low 450°K, generating more energy than it consumed for the first time in history. The world hailed him as “The Alchemist,” his face plastered on the cover of Time magazine. But Gerard resented the distraction; the work was all that mattered to him, and he could see the ultimate goal shining at the end of a long and arduous road.
For the next sixteen years, Gerard tirelessly pursued his dream of room-temperature cold fusion. He envisioned a world where energy was not just abundant but infinite, a humanity elevated by science. In 1983, he was ready for his most important test yet—a cold fusion experiment that would finally bridge the gap between dream and reality.
However, something went horribly wrong.
Scientists still debate the specifics of what happened that day, but it’s widely accepted that Gerard’s experiment acted upon quantum entanglements that interacted catastrophically with the exotic matter he had introduced to stabilize the reaction. In an instant, the fabric of reality itself tore open, and massive rifts appeared across the globe, exposing humanity to a nightmarish realm beyond comprehension.
Chaos erupted. Portals opened over every continent, each offering a glimpse into a hostile, desolate landscape. The first Breachers emerged in Western Kentucky, monstrous creatures from the depths of another dimension. The initial creature was nearly 100 feet tall, covered in mottled black and crimson chitin. Four eyes glared from above a writhing mass of razor-edged tentacles, each as thick as a telephone pole and covered in dense armor. The Breacher stood on six spider-like appendages, sturdy and viciously sharp.
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The military was dispatched to contain the beast, but conventional weapons barely scratched its armor. In a brutal display, the Breacher wiped out the entire force sent against it before retreating back into the portal, wounded but unfazed. Within hours, more of these horrific creatures emerged across North America, while additional portals opened around the world—Asia bore the brunt with four, South America with six, while Europe, Africa, and Oceania were each plagued by multiple rifts.
Each Breacher was unique, yet all shared the same formidable chitin armor and colossal strength. The largest was over 150 feet tall, while smaller ones, panther-like creatures at 20 feet in length, prowled on all fours. Their movements were methodical, advancing slowly across cities, creating panic that rippled across continents. Highways flooded with evacuating civilians, and governments scrambled to mount defenses against this new threat.
In humanity’s darkest hour, something miraculous happened: ordinary people began to manifest extraordinary abilities. Some found themselves able to heal wounds, others to manipulate the elements, and still others to create incredible constructs with their minds. Among them were a rare few who had powers uniquely suited to combating the Breachers, giving humanity its first true hope of survival.
One of these empowered individuals was an older man in Canada who came to be known as Fulcrum. Fulcrum’s power was as extraordinary as it was specific—anything he imagined, he could build, provided the materials were on hand. With this ability, he conceived Project Driftspire, a plan to create floating cities, massive ocean-bound sanctuaries that could house Earth’s scattered populations away from the constant threat of the Breachers.
Fulcrum’s first creation was New Vancouver, a sprawling metropolis suspended on the ocean. With a team of empowered individuals lending their unique talents, he built the city to be self-sustaining and modular, capable of expanding and evolving as humanity’s needs grew with it. In the heart of the Driftspire lay a thriving ecosystem of skyscrapers, parks, and shops to maintain a sense of normalcy. Around this core, vertical hydroponic farms ensured year-round food production, and extensive manufacturing plants allowed for the creation of additional city modules. Understanding his own mortality, Fulcrum ensured the infrastructure could continue long after he was gone.
His crowning achievement was the underground bullet train network. Suspended in a vacuum tunnel, these trains reached speeds exceeding 1,000 km/h, and with the help of a fellow empowered individual, Fulcrum integrated teleportation systems that allowed passengers to board and disembark without slowing the train itself. Fulcrum’s legacy extended to two more cities, New Toronto and New Winnipeg, each a testament to his vision and willpower. Convoys were sent across the globe, urging survivors to come to these new strongholds, where nearly a billion lives were ultimately saved.
Yet, for all the hope the floating metropolises brought, the world remained fractured. The portals continued to open, and Breachers still threatened the cities and countryside alike. Humanity was on a knife’s edge, held together by the few empowered willing to stand and fight, even as the number of casualties grew.
As the world adjusted to its new reality, one question lingered—a question left unanswered in the silence of Gerard S. Grant’s abandoned lab. What had he unleashed, and was it even possible to close the doors he’d opened?