In history books, the date March 19, 2091, is simply referred to as "Event 1." It's a rather charming name considering the nature of the events that took place.
First and foremost, it should be noted that March 19, 2091, was the hottest spring equinox ever recorded in Europe. Outside, the deserted streets endlessly recycled the roaring noise of struggling air conditioners. The monotonous light from screens seeped through partially closed shutters. Inside homes, people suffocated, both from the heat and the stale air. Everyone, slouched and half-naked, stared at their chosen device.
It wasn't the weather anomalies that occupied the news and social media that day. The current affairs were hotter than ever: humanity was about to harvest extraterrestrial resources for the first time.
Well, not too far away - the smart heads we had sent to Mars hadn't even arrived yet - but still in space. We were quite lucky. As our geological resources dwindled like snow in the sun, generous meteors filled with minerals had the grace to hurtle straight towards us.
Finally, the electronics industry could recover after a period of slow decline, followed by a near ten-year interruption, the consequences of the stress caused by the Chinese Revolution of 2065, which had deeply shaken the sector. The idea of a spectacular ascent, a historical revival bringing production back to its golden age at the beginning of the century, fired the imagination of many observers.
For many leaders, the opportunity seemed too good to pass up, and it didn't take long for an international mission to seize it. After a few political entanglements and a mountain of bribes, the contract landed in the hands of Cortex, a multinational corporation that was more multi than national. Its expertise ranged from versatile robots to baby diapers, automotive, and aerospace.
Thus, while a fleet of Cor-X branded drones prepared to take off into space aboard Ariane 7, the Western world gathered in front of their screens, marveling at such ingenuity.
The atmosphere was electric as the rocket left the ground. Whistles echoed from all sides. It emerged from the stratosphere amidst thunderous applause, which only subsided when the spacecraft began its slow journey toward the celestial rain.
As it approached its target, a few nervous laughs could be heard. The retro-thrusters engaged, the vehicle decelerated, and the solar drones were released to the cheers of a world fascinated by itself. Finally, silence settled as if the vacuum of space had rushed in through the screens. Anxious faces scrutinized with renewed attention the progress of the robotic fleet.
For long minutes, entire nations held their breath in unison. Then, like a storm after the calm, a wave of jubilation swept through the feverish metropolises as the machines landed on the first rocks.
Among the hundreds of deployed drones, only a dozen missed their targets, a resounding success. Within the following hour, a war erupted between the ecstatic believers and the disheartened skeptics, while continuous news channels already titled: "A Historic Revolution." On social media, some marveled at the rise of their Cortex stocks, while others organized parties to celebrate the meteor shower. The remaining spectators avidly followed the slow harvesting process, commenting on the shuttle's takeoff before joining the festivities already underway in the streets. The sheer magnitude of the swarm heading toward Earth guaranteed the mission's success, and a few less rocks wouldn't prevent onlookers from enjoying the spectacle of their entry into the atmosphere.
The night took a certain time to break that evening, and the atmosphere was more electric than ever. Around 10 o'clock, all eyes turned to the sky, searching for the luminous trails that would accompany the passage of the lucrative rocks.
Suddenly, to the cheers of the crowd, the heavens adorned themselves with gold and silver. Throughout the West, a festive and euphoric atmosphere prevailed. However, in Paris, Brussels, Berlin, and Geneva, just minutes after the start of the spectacle, the celebrations were abruptly interrupted when the city lights simultaneously went out.
The onlookers' phones started vibrating in harmony. Joy gave way to worry and hurried whispers. Right and left, hands clasped each other, displaying flashing screens where a sober notification appeared:
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"19-03-2091
Message from the Presidency
Imminent meteorite alert
1. Go home
2. Seek refuge in the basement
3. Turn off water, gas, and electricity
Stay tuned to information broadcasted by radio, television, or social media. Stay safe until authorities inform you that the alert is over."
Faces tensed up, steps hastened, but strangely, the crowd did not react immediately. In the almost total darkness of the night, gazes sought each other, calls echoed, jokes cracked to reassure themselves, while waiting for an official face to emerge from the shadows explaining that it was all just a huge misunderstanding. As the minutes seemed to stretch on indefinitely, anxiety grew. Silent prayers mingled with the stifled cries of children. Everyone wondered if those little rocks, initially seen as a wonderful economic opportunity, would turn into an unprecedented tragedy.
Finally, the blue and red lights of law enforcement burst into the bustling city centers of the capitals. The buzzing of propellers and megaphones resonated in the upscale squares, drowning out the tumult of the crowd. After a silence as infinite as the multitude of drones, deep and monotonous voices rose, confirming the government message, repeated in each and every language spoken in Europe.
The gravity of the situation began to impress upon people's minds, shattering the carefreeness that had enveloped the crowd. In unison, the streets rose as if a gigantic wave was about to engulf them. In the utter confusion, people jostled, lost, fleeing towards the bicolor lights, ending up packed against plexiglass barriers.
Meanwhile, the sky weaved dazzling threads, like a tapestry embroidered by a celestial spinner. Stupefied revelers helplessly gazed at the first fireballs streaking just a ten of meters above them. Panic intensified as, in the distance, screams and sirens mingled with the sound of explosions.
The crowd overflowed the ranks of visor helmets and rushed into buildings, subway stations, and under bridges. The streets gradually emptied as people hurried home, driven by the urgency to seek shelter. Families rushed to basements, seeking refuge in the safest corners of their homes.
The media, once animated by the excitement of the meteor shower, now broadcasted constant updates on the situation. Journalists' voices grew graver, describing potential risks and safety measures to be taken. Social media was flooded with messages of concern and solidarity, with hashtags reflecting the collective anxiety in the face of this imminent threat.
In the major cities, silence prevailed, broken only by the shrill sirens of emergency vehicles and the repeated announcements from authorities urging the population to stay safe. The streets were deserted, store signs turned off, creating a ghostly and distressing atmosphere. The fireworks continued throughout the night.
In the following days, it was estimated that between 100,000 and 150,000 meteorites had crashed during this event, resulting in the direct or indirect death of 80,000 people and considerable material damage. Sadness engulfed hearts, commemorations took place, loans were made, and reconstruction began, gradually giving way to oblivion.
When the time finally came to provide explanations, theories were put forward about the disruption of magnetic fields, excessively intense solar winds, convergence of cosmic currents, or even divine will. However, the truth was that nobody, whether physicists, astrophysicists, cosmologists, or priests, truly knew what could have caused this catastrophe.
Years passed. Tears dried; towers were rebuilt. The expensive space ore continued to fill the coffers of the West, and to everyone's surprise, a strange rock had slipped between the claws of the harvesting drones, like a shark in a fishing net. As light as air, as hard as diamond, blacker than black itself, this unknown mineral was presented to Professor Maximilian Archer, an expert in extraterrestrial matter and British astrophysicist responsible for the mission.
In his journal, Archer named this intangible rock "Aetherite" and presented it as follows: "No description, no words can fully convey the feeling that overwhelms you when you gaze into the unfathomable depths of the aether. It eludes visual or physical perception, defying our senses and our conventional understanding of reality. Observing its surface devoid of any roughness, one might believe that Aetherite absorbs light itself, as if a gaping hole in space-time had opened before your eyes. Its deep black is akin to an abyss, surpassing the darkest darkness. It is an absolute blackness, devoid of any light reflection, that even swallows the most intense glow. It is a blackness that evokes both cosmic emptiness and the void of our knowledge, captivating attention and drawing the mind towards infinite possibilities."
Quickly and in utmost secrecy, the construction of an international analysis laboratory began. A few discreet lines in accounting documents were enough to initiate the project, while the momentum of reconstruction contributed to its progress. On April 1, 2094, just over three years after the events, the Center for Observation and Research of Energies (C.O.R.E.) was born. Nestled in the heart of the legendary discreet Swiss Alps, the center was intended to remain out of prying eyes.
Under the leadership of Professor Archer, seven of the most renowned scientists in the West took their positions within this institution, ready to unravel the mysteries of Aetherite and explore the infinite possibilities it offered.