The Crisis

“We do not fear death, but the feeling of non-existence, which is an impossibility. Therefore, we fear the impossible.”

—Someone I Know.

Table of Contents

• London, The UK, Year 2024, Information Age . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 03

• Zurich, Switzerland, Year 2024, Information Age . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .05

• London, The UK, Year 2024, Information Age . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13

• Manaus, Brazil, Year 2024, Information Age . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .20

• Summary of Year One . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .26

• Zurich, Switzerland, Year 2026, Information Age . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .29

• London, The UK, Year 2026, Information Age . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39

• Batang Ai National Park, Malaysia, Year 2026, Information Age . . . . . .43

• Summary of Year Three . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .50

• Zurich, Switzerland, Year 2029, Information Age . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .53

• London, The UK, Year 2029, Information Age . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57

• Los Angeles, California, Year 2029, End of Information Age . . . . . . . . .66

• Summary of Year Six . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69

London, The UK, Year 2024, Information Age

“Welcome to my million-dollar mansion! Today I’ve invited a crew of six interior designers to—”

Flick.

“Today is my sister’s birthday, so I got her a Lamborghini! But before I give it to—” 

Flick. 

“Top ten places to—”

Flick. 

With delicate care, Jamie puts down his phone on the rusty metal bench, his phone as cold as the weather that’s battering the train station. The YouTube shorts special formula for maximum content and minimum time isn’t enough to keep Jamie’s attention. Not now. Not any more.

I’m sure someone can use it better than me. It’s not like I’ll need it where I’m going. 

It's bitterly cold as he sits on the bench with the peeling green paint. His jacket barely shelters his pale skin from the gale speeding through the station, and claws scratch at his back as the scathing wind hits him head on.

“THE TRAIN FOR: OXFORDSHIRE WILL BE ARRIVING IN TWO MINUTES AT PLATFORM SEVEN,” The loudspeaker above broadcasted to anyone who would listen. 

I guess it's time then. 

Slowly, he unfolded himself from the bench, his feet like metal weights pulling him down as he desperately tried to stay upright. Taking slow and deliberate steps, Jamie’s body moved forward to the edge of the platform. He inhaled, deeply, filling his lungs with cold air.

Probably one of the last I take. 

With a resounding hoot a train in the distance started to slow down and come into the station. 

Goodbye.

Jamie stepped forward.

Zurich, Switzerland, Year 2024, Information Age

“To report on our next piece, we have Edith Wisborough coming in from London.”

“Thanks Sam. Today, 28-year-old Jamie Skinner was reported dead at South Merton Train Station, sustaining severe injuries from a collision with the train coming into the platform he was last confirmed to be seen at. Mr. Skinner, who had booked a ticket for the same train online a day prior, had been at the station for two hours beforehand. Murder investigations are underway as we speak.”

Daniel rolled his eyes slowly and opened his mouth ninety degrees, exaggerating his boredom to an almost comical level. “God, what are they even trying to do, hook us in to read about it on their website? They’re not even pretending to cover politics any more. I bet BBC’s doing the same thing.” 

Daniel lazily changed channels with the remote to find two reporters gesturing at a mugshot of a black-haired kid with blue eyes, offering their condolences to those affected by his death. 

The only difference is the accents. 

“That’s rich, coming from you.” A voice said in perfect German from behind the couch. Daniel heard a slam as one of his room-mates, a large man with a tattered ACDC shirt and a half-grown beard, closed the fridge with one hand while clutching a Red Bull in the other. “Last I checked, you were wasting away in this rented flat, giving voice to conspiracy theories you know deep down are bullshit. Doesn’t sound much better, in my opinion.”

That would be one of Daniel’s mistakes, telling his flat-mates about the channel. Unfortunately, every one of them was a do-gooder to the core, and wouldn’t have hurt a fly, even one carrying dengue. Revealing his channel to them left him with no sympathy and no end of nagging comments.

“Pshhhhh.” Daniel said, obviously perturbed. “That’s different. I’m not supposed to be an upstanding citizen. That’s for . . . other people. Like news reporters.”

Daniel’s room-mate held the Red Bull can to his lips, liquid drizzling down his beard and spattering the fluid on the floor. Placing the drink on the plastic desk that supported Daniel’s feet, the man slid his feet into sandals and opened the apartment door. 

Before leaving, the man muttered under his breath, “No wonder you dropped out of ETH, with morals like that.” 

Daniel retaliated by extending two middle fingers and shouting, “Fuck you, Luca!” 

Luca had slammed the door shut before Daniel could say more, leaving him to watch the news on the TV. After flicking through a few more channels and finding nothing of interest, Daniel switched the screen off and walked away from the couch. 

The apartment he was currently living in was, in Daniel’s mind, probably one of his greatest accomplishments. Though most of the room was undecorated, with no wallpaper to cover the grey walls, or any hint of interior design, the space had one redeeming quality. To the left of him in a corner that was specifically his (He had told his room-mates multiple times to not come near the area) was a beautifully pristine PS5 linked to a slick black monitor and keyboard. With this magnificent gaming setup was a ring light (currently neon blue) attached to the massive screen, and a recording camera that made use of its sixty megapixel video footage to film Daniel with amazing accuracy. Tucked under the desk was a luxurious gamer chair, made of dyed blue fabric that made Daniel’s body sink into relaxation the moment he ever sat down in it. 

The perfect place to do some . . . research.

Scanning the flat with a quick glance, Daniel turned back to his monitor with determination. Since it was past 9 am already, all his flatmates had probably gone to work in their boring office jobs. 

Not for me, he thought. There was no danger in him doing what he was about to do. But it never hurts to check.

Turning back to the screen, Daniel booted up the device by pressing a button on the keyboard. Once the loading screen had finished, and he typed in his password, Daniel cracked his fingers in preparation. 

Time for some digging.

Getting through the first firewall was simple enough, just a simple case of cracking an alphanumeric password that probably was made with less than a second thought. A simple AI software he had created (another one of his great achievements) found the password in about five minutes. 

LondonPolice. How creative.

Up next was taking the information from UK servers to Swiss ones, which took about ten minutes, to make sure no one looked too deep into the data he was smuggling. Once he got through the Swiss firewalls, the only thing left was to check for viruses in the data. Generally, viruses caused too much hassle to encode it into a data file, but Daniel had had some close slips in the past. Viruses were great, when they weren’t threatening to play Baby Shark at full volume whenever he turned his monitor on. 

His eyelids scrunched as he winced from the painful memory. 

Better to be safe than sorry, I guess.

Using another one of his programs, (also one of his successes) to scan through the code, Daniel cracked open a can of Red Bull he’d grabbed from the freezer, and sank back into his chair. After a few minutes of boredom, the AI reported that there were no anomalies in the code. It was safe to open. Milking every moment, Daniel outstretched his pointer finger and jabbed it down upon the mouse. 

And . . . nothing. 

The lines of Daniel’s face contorted as confusion swept across his body. Raising an eyebrow, he read the seven lines of text the file stored. 

Jamie Skinner: 19 years old

The victim has no wounds that indicate a skirmish. A phone that was left on a bench on the platform has been confirmed to have been his property before his death. The last app used was YouTube, and the last google search was “Cost of apartment in Wandsworth”. Possible suspects are his ex-girlfriend, one Beth Green, who broke up with him over Whatsapp a day before Jamie’s stop at the station, and his brother who had a row with him through text 12 hours before the incident. Investigation unit currently gathering CCTV footage from the station, as well as interviewing family members, the ex, and close friends.

Daniel gaped.

There’s nothing. Absolutely nothing. No reason to be targeted, nothing that would ever anger anyone. No people that hate him. The ex could be interesting, but nothing with any sort of message. Not what the conspiracy theorists want. Fuck. 

Exasperated, Daniel sighed and left his chair. Running a hand through his hair, he changed out of the rags he slept in into something more presentable. A pair of navy blue skinny jeans, a white tee and a grey beanie. In early September, the coldest it ever got was 15 degrees, and through the few windows at the edge of the apartment, sunshine was pouring in. It used to get down to around 10, but that didn’t happen any more.

Yay, climate change. 

Putting on his sneakers, he pulled out his phone and quickly texted Jack. 

Yo. Meet me at Starbucks in 30 minutes.

Daniel felt his muscles tighten in impatience as he waited a minute for his friend to reply. A text bubble popped up in the left of his screen. 

Can’t. I’m helping run a lab with my PhD student. 

His fingers moving speedily, Daniel typed back:

Cancel it. 

Not waiting for his answer, Daniel slipped his phone back into his left pocket and walked through the apartment door. 

***

Walking towards the counter, Daniel quickly pulled out his wallet and fingered out a ten dollar bill. The waiter, a young man with long auburn hair, was busily manoeuvring through the other workers to take his order. 

“Good morning sir, welcome to Starbucks. What would you like from us today?” The worker had put on a forced smile and started tapping his palm with his finger, fidgeting with tense anxiousness.

That agitated, huh?

“A Cappuccino and a Salted Caramel Latte please.” Daniel replied, checking his phone while doing so. Jack hadn’t replied, but the two blue ticks of a read message proved he had seen it. 

“Alright, that’ll be 6.50, sir.” 

Smiling, Daniel placed the note on the counter and said, “Thank-you.” 

The waiter handed the change back, and hurried off to make Daniel’s order from the various assortments of liquids which lined the shelves in the back.

Once the drinks were ready, Daniel laid down in one of the comfy sofas in the left corner of the restaurant, slowly sipping at his coffee. This particular Starbucks was a regular haunt of his and Jack’s, and they usually came here at least twice a week. Though it wasn’t at all fancy, and the coffees were basically caffeine with sugar, the place generally had just the right amount of chatter buzzing about it that let you talk comfortably while also reassuring of limited eavesdropping. The Starbucks was nestled into a much larger complex, with only two floors designated to the café. 

Guzzling down his drink, Daniel checked his phone out of the corner of his eye. Opening CNN, he scrolled through the bold titles of the newsreels.

War, war, rape, death, more war, school shooting, elections and . . . Daniel frowned. That’s different. At the bottom of the home page was a small box of text stating: 

A new study shows that biodiversity is increasing in at least 10% of world ecosystems. 

Jamie felt a smile tug at his face for a fraction of a second, before fading to black. He dismissed the article and read the one on elections instead. 

Not like it changes much. 

“Hi, could I have—” Daniel recognised the voice immediately. 

“Over here, Jack.” 

Jack turned his head with a swift turn. Taller than the waiter by a full two heads, Jack’s blonde hair was kept extremely messy at all times. His chin was cleanly shaved and strongly defined, and sitting atop his nose were a pair of glasses, skewed to one side. He wore a plaid buttoned down shirt, with baggy trousers that were straining to reach his ankles. His expression was not a happy one. In three massive strides, Jack reached the opposite bench and fell down into it. 

“Why am I here?” He demanded. “And don’t give me one of your crappy answers. There better be a good reason that I cancelled my meeting with the student—” 

“Oh, calm down, they have a whole two years to work on their fucking research projects. I have about . . .” Daniel unlocked his phone and opened his bank account, sticking the value in Jack’s face. “What, around two weeks? And, I figure you owe me, seeing that I bought your groceries last Thursday, so . . .”

Jack’s face turned slightly red in anger. “Those groceries were max thirty Franc!  Don’t give me bullshit like that, Daniel! I am not paying you anything more than fifty.”

Daniel smirked. “Ah, but you see, you owed me thirty last week. But, since you delayed returning the money, and there is an interest rate of fifty percent, you now owe me . . . eight hundred. That’s how economics, right?” 

Jack’s jaw fell into his lap. “I’m— What— That’s not— You got the maths wrong!” Daniel’s grin widened. Anything more than two contradictions was too much for Jack. His friend sighed. “Look, I’ll transfer some money to your account later. But I really to go find my PhD student.” 

“That’s fine.” Daniel said agreeably, spreading his legs out across his couch. “But I’ll expect another payment for that free coffee.”

Jack looked down at the latte on the table. His eyes glinted as he turned to face Daniel. “You arsehole! You wouldn’t have any problems like this if you had just finished your masters! Then you could a decent job, perhaps even work on a research team. Instead, you left it all for that crappy YouTube channel!” A look of disgust came over Jack’s face, and he picked up his coffee and left as he muttered, “God, you’re pathetic. I don’t think we should be friends anymore.”

Daniel laughed, then opened his phone to check his account.

I basically get what he gets in a month. Barely a difference anyway.

Opening his mouth wide, Daniel yelled at Jack as he walked through the door. “You’re welcome for the coffee!” A few people in the shop gave him curious glances.

Right. Time to go.

London, The UK, Year 2024, Information Age

Paradise they said. Join the police, they said. Get free transport, and the ride of a lifetime. What utter bullshit.

Lilith Evesborough shut her computer and took a sip of her morning Americano, while keeping her eyelids from closing by boring a hole in the board with her gaze. Hollywood movies turned out to be quite accurate; the most interesting thing police ever did with their lives was connecting red yarn to pinned photos and screenshots. 

“Any ideas? Constable Oroware? Constable Evesborough?” That electrifying voice made her spine straight like a pole, eliminating her slump in less than two seconds. Before she could think of a semi-plausible answer, a quiet, nasal voice from the back of the room, rumbled out a reply.

“Questioning the relatives and friends is the best thing to do right now, ma’am. We have no idea where to head in the investigation. We need to get more information first, I think.”

Turning her head, Lilith saw the mousy hair and freckled complexion of Ben, a young and determined newbie who had barely any skill with anything The Force handed him. The only ability he was decent at was formatting and editing the reports they handed out to the public. He was nevertheless relentless, and couldn’t help but give his two cents, even if the idea was outrageously plain, and had been stated before. 

Not good to have at a party as well, Lilith remembered with slight horror. Lyn, an inspector with short hair that ran on-the-ground operations, usually invited the whole team for house parties, but had rescinded Ben’s invitation to such things after he spoilt an entire hour of conversation by talking about a robber that sneaked into property twelve blocks away from his own house. 

“I had actually met him in the supermarket a day prior to his visit to the neighbour's house.” He had ended his shocking speech with. 

Not the most thrilling tale. Who knew you could be so good with words and so bad at actually talking. Lilith let out a tiny sigh. 

“Constable, stop stating the obvious, we’ve already sent out someone to go fetch them.” The same charged voice that was full of energy stated. It belonged to a woman of around forty, wearing high heels, a black suit and a pair of small glasses that were barely noticeable on the outline of her pale face. “Right now we need to find other useful sources.” 

The woman was Chief Inspector Stone, considered one of the best in her rank. It was rumoured that a quarter of all exposed London gang members had been caught by her. Unfortunately, the many encounters with organised crime had turned her voice into a lightning bolt sent from heaven to strip away people’s secrets and leave them exposed. This generally had the effect of removing Lilith’s soul from her body for short periods, and seemed to do the same for the other police, even the veterans who’d worked there for over ten years. 

Lilith had once made the mistake of just calling her Stone, which had given her some seriously hard looks from her fellow constables. 

Obey the hierarchy, she thought inwardly. That had been the first lesson on the job. 

Two months into the position, and Lilith was already regretting it. Sadly, three years of police school (“Like Hogwarts for goth kids who don’t have money or magic.”, Lyn had once called it) was too much of an investment to throw away after a few crappy weeks. There were a few upsides, like free cafeteria food and your own car, but the number of depressing cases they had to deal with was too much to handle for Lilith. Just this week, they had two cases of armed robbery, three assaults as well as a rape. And, of course, the murder.

Jamie Skinner, a nineteen-year-old boy found dead on train tracks after being slammed into by a four thousand-ton train at seventy kilometres per hour. No information, no video footage, nothing. That was the current case giving the group of them a migraine and a half. 

Unfortunately for them, their budget for the case was under five-figure range, half of which they’d blown on the forensics team’s equipment, which was apparently in need of an upgrade. That new, state-of-the-art technology had given them absolutely no results, so that was a dead-end. They’d tried to get video footage, but that would take days for the train station to recover. They’d already scanned his text history. No malicious messages. Other than the breakup and the small argument with his brother, there were no suspects. Jamie looked like a genuinely good guy, which, in the police world was something quite to come by. All of this added up to get the six of them collectively stumped. 

Another voice from a desk in the far back of the room sighed. This one belonged to Tom, a middle-aged man with grey beard stubble and shocking green eyes. Putting a hand through his hair, Tom joked, “For once, I agree with Ben. There’s not much we can do in the meantime till we’ve got more information. Why don’t we just call it a day and head home? I’m feeling tired, and, personally, I am not pulling an all-nighter for this case.”

Lilith found herself and others laughing at this comment. They all needed a break, and any self-respecting officer didn’t stay in the police station past four o’clock, if they wanted to get an ounce of sleep. Otherwise, they could expect to be picked for the night team, which had to stay on duty till five a.m. This unfortunate turn of events is what had befallen Lilith last night, and more than a day without sleep had put a strain on her mental strength. Even CI Stone, who hated the idea of slacking off, had a small smile on her face. Everyone’s faces turned to her expectantly.

With a small groan of defeat, she said, “Alright, go on then. But I’ll expect all of you here by eight tomorrow!’ 

The room burst with noise as the police officers flooded out the doors. Anything else CI Stone had wanted to say was drowned by the new onslaught of the tired voices of the other officers. Lilith could feel her eyes drooping from the weight of the task set for them. This was always the problem with murders, she’d found out. You’ve got to make headway quick, if you want the press to stay on your side. The murder had been public for two days now, and with no new information in sight, it was unlikely that the press would back them up for much longer.

“Drinks are on me guys; let’s head down to the pub.” Yelled Sergeant Brooke to the other police, with nods of agreement from nearly everyone. Brooke was the type of happy-go-lucky guy who couldn’t help but keep a smile on his face. 

Lilith couldn’t go now. The weight on her eyelids was too heavy to ignore.

God, I need a nap.

As she stepped through the station door to the sprawling City of London, Lilith could see it was raining again. A classic light drizzle that wetted an overcoat in seconds but left your inner layers untouched, the patter of rain felt slightly comforting.

As she walked across the cracked concrete pavement that lead to her apartment, Lilith pulled out her phone. Checking BBC, she could see an article in the UK section that showed the mugshot of Jamie as a 15-year-old, with a whole lot of text about the murder. Scrolling through the website, she spotted some more clickbait articles, each of them as gloomy as the next. 

Israel and Gaza. Depressing.

Ukraine and Russia. Depressing.

Depressing. Depress—

Oh. That’s interesting.

At the bottom of the page was an article that stated:

A new study shows that biodiversity is increasing in at least 10% of world ecosystems. 

Lilith decided not to read it, once she had checked the first paragraph.

It doesn’t matter now anyway. Not like it’ll save any of us.

After walking the five cold and windy blocks in the rain, Lilith got to her small apartment she had bought at a bargain 50% off price. Even with that new price, The flat’s cost had reached deep into her very shallow pockets, and pulled out half of her savings.

She stepped into the lift and leaned against the metal wall. Despite being here, so close to her bed, she could feel her mind lull into an ignorant dream and her eyelids slowly shut. 

Come on, stay awake Lil. Keep upright for a bit longer.

Taking her keys out of her pocket, Lilith unlocked her apartment door and stepped in side. The apartment was small, consisting of three rooms: A bedroom, a bathroom and a living room that also functioned as a kitchen.  There was little furniture and even less decoration, but the few things she did have, like pictures of her parents and friends that she hung on the plain walls, and the elephant wood carvings she had neatly arranged on the table, made her feel all the more at home. 

She kicked off her shoes in one quick flick, pulled off her wet jacket and dropped her hat on the floor. Dragging her socks across the floor, she stalked towards her bedroom and opened the door, falling onto her bed and collapsing on the spot. 

***

Ring.

Ring-ring.

Ringring-ring.

Ringring-ri—

Lilith smacked her phone with her left hand, sending it flying across the floor. 

“Mhfff.”, was the sound that came from the mattress. Slowly, Lilith rolled onto the other side of the bed, yawning loudly. Using her hands as claws, she crawled across her bed and reached out for her phone. The screen was cracked. 

“Ah, shit.” She picked up the still ringing phone and blew the dust off the screen. The time on her phone was 08:50 p.m. She’d only been allowed to sleep for five hours. “Ughhhh.”

The phone continued to ring its annoying little jingle. Lilith answered the call. It was from Detective Sergeant Majors, one of the older officers, although his pettiness earned him the reputation of local toddler in the station. 

Wisdom doesn’t come with experience. Another important life-lesson from her job.

“Evesborough, get to the station now. We need all hands on deck.”

Lilith rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Whatever it is can wait, Sarge. I am not getting out of my bedroom. I’ve had like, what, five hours of sleep in the past two days. Cut me some slack.” 

“Constable, you better be at the station by nine thirty, or I swear to god I will—” The voice from the phone blared.

“Don’t care. Have a nice night, Majors.” She was about to hang up when the phone voice burst out again.

“His friend is dead, Constable. His body was found on the road. Seems like he fell from a building. This is serious now, Evesborough; we need everyone helping or the press will be on us like a pack of hungry lions. Now, get to the station immediately.“

There was silence for a few seconds. Then Lilith ran to the door and started slipping on her boots. 

“I’ll be there in ten.”

Manaus, Brazil, Year 2024,    Information Age

It was halfway through their work day when Henry Smith felt the weight on his shoulders increase. A grim smile flickered across his face for a second, then he went back to a tense expression. 

“Ten percent.” he said bitterly. “God, what a shit-show.” Henry started to rub his palms against his eyes, hoping for a moment of peace, but to no avail.

“It’s okay sir, we already knew COP29 was bullshit anyways, and ten percent is more than what we expected.” This reassurance was supposed to be calming and soothing, but the way Alex said it, like the battle was already lost, did quite the opposite to his nerves.

“Far from enough,” Henry muttered in response. Looking up from his desk, in front of him he surveyed his small team. A cell biologist, an environmental scientist, a biochemist, a microbiologist, an ecologist and a data analyst. The six of them together had done the largest survey in history. Twenty biomes, seven hundred and fifty species monitored, across seventy countries. All that hard work for a depressing conclusion that was probably more incentive to give up than an incentive to find a solution. 

In front of him, a middle-age Latino man with long messy hair stopped his furious typing, and sighed in defeat. “Well, I’ve tried to convince the BBC to put it in an uplifting mood, but the chances of any news website listening to me are slim. Let’s hope they listen.”

“Thanks for trying Carlos, and Jane? How’s the UN speech coming along?” 

“As good as it can be, but don’t expect much.” Jane replied, a young postgrad whose blue glasses didn’t at all improve her ability to see the positive side of things. “The only thing we’ll get out of the UN is a pledge to end climate change by 2050, which is more bullshit than COP29.” 

“Always good to see your point of view, Jane.” A voice commented sardonically. It came from a blonde haired young man with a Finnish accent who covered his body in a chequered scarf and puffer jacket, carefully ignoring the fact that they were in the tropics. He had a smile on his face that stood out against the grim background of stony expressions on everyone else’s. 

Who knew a data analyst could be so against the facts. I guess it doesn’t affect his field as much. 

“Mikael, don’t egg her on. How’s the data, any outliers?” Henry said this last part with a spark of hope that extinguished with Mikael’s shaking head. 

“Nothing, Dr Smith. The Bornean rainforest holds promise, but even that might not get proper funding.”

“Alright, well, check if anyone wants to investigate it.” He ran a hand through his curly hair. 

Due for a wash, aren’t you Henry?

 He continued. “God, the job of a biologist is the—”

“Fate of Sisyphus, boss. We know.” quoted their resident lab coat, Collin. A Harvard graduate, Collin was a lucky grab in a bag of random microbio doctorate students, only one of which was interested in their program. Collin kept a pocket microscope in his pocket constantly, an old model that Henry believed to be more than ten years old. “That data you asked for, it’s ready now. Out of all samples, one in twenty organisms had some sort of cancerous growth beginning or worse.”

“Great, might want to add tha—”

“Yep, already on it, boss.” Jane replied, not lifting a finger from the computer which she was busily typing into.

“Of course you are. And Camille? Anything that effects your field? I know you don’t really—”

“No, boss. Nothing.” Came Camille’s reply in a thick French accent. Wearing khaki pants and a brown leather jacket, she looked exactly like your average safari guide, with less dirt and more perfume. 

“Right, well if we’re all finished we can leave the lab, and have our victory dinner.” 

There were varying murmurs of agreement, but the intense feeling of hopelessness persisted and spread across the brightly lit room. He couldn’t let this go on.

“Listen now, all of you. You may think this is hopeless. You may think this all for nothing. You may think that there is no way out of this trap. You may think any of those terrible yet unavoidable thoughts. But I beg you, with all my heart, to not act on those feelings. Because we can’t give up, otherwise i.i.i.” He waited for them to finish his sentence.

The five of them chorused in a deadpan tone. “The boulder falls down the hill again.”

“Exactly.”

Mikael rolled his eyes. “Nice pep talk, boss.”

He beamed at the group of them with as much conviction as he could muster. “Thank you. Now let’s get out of here.”

***

Henry sipped from the Bud Light in his hand, laughing at some wry joke Mikael had just made. The six of them were sitting around a candlelit dinner table covered by a green and blue patterned tablecloth depicting parrots flying through a rainforest of some sort. Delicious starter courses were set across the table, each with their own Portuguese-sounding name to go along with it.

“So how did you find this place, Henry?” Asked Jane, with her elusive smile that was almost never seen perched on her face. She seemed in much higher spirits than a few hours before. 

“Heard of it from a friend. He said it was the perfect place for a quiet event.” In reality, Henry had found the place from an old billboard with the name of the restaurant, Vida da Festa, plastered to it on top a silhouette of a  man and woman dancing. Friends hadn’t been a part of his life for a while now.

Relationships besides those with his team had been hard to keep through the years. And with all the travelling and research, things like human interaction were luxuries not needed for their mission. Now that they had finished the survey, sustained conversation was something they would have to get used to. 

One of the problems with a job like this. 

A pang of nostalgia hit him like a punch to the gut as a memory passed through his brain. A candlelit dinner, red wine and the sound of laughter and bad jokes. A heartfelt moment, two confessions, and joy and happiness all around.

He felt himself getting sucked in, but pushed the thought away with a shake of his head and got back to his team. 

“Really. And which friend is this, boss?” A smirk had appeared on Mikael’s face once more. Henry could feel Mikael’s gaze land on his eyes as he curiously pried open the truth from his soul. Henry blinked.

God, he needs to stop doing that. 

He smiled at his worried colleagues. “Don’t you worry about it Mikael.” Carefully, he changed the topic.“So, anyone got any new ideas for our next research project?”

Each head shook sadly. 

Camille spoke up, her blue eyes dimming as she answered. “No one wants biologists any more, boss. The human family tree is too proud to look for answers from its roots.” Her half-eaten plate of food clattered as Camille dropped her fork into her peas. The mood turned back to a hopeless state of sustained silence. Henry let out a frustrated sigh. 

Can’t avoid topics like these I guess. 

He let out a small chuckle and looked at Camille. “Only I get to make the metaphors, all right?” Camille put on a desolate smile that was filled with artificiality. 

Staying true to character, Collins pulled out his phone, completely oblivious to the atmosphere in the private room. 

The room was tense. 

“Collins, can you—”

“Sir, I think you might want to see this.” Collins passed the phone around the table. Through the flurry of hands Henry grabbed it and pulled towards him. It was a news article in Nature, a well-known journal in the field. The article went as follows:

Mysterious Orangutan Suicide: Fungal disease or a fun-loving primate mishap?

Two days ago at Batang Ai National Park, one of the resident flanged male orangutans by the name of Pahit (Malaysian for Biter) was found dead in his territory. Camera trap footage from the incident shows him climbing a seventy-meter tree and then dropping from it moments later. The incident has sparked quite a controversy in the scientific world, with two trains of thought that have come about to answer the question: How, and why? 

The first statement . . . 

The team waited in anticipation as Henry skimmed through the rest of the article until something stopped him. 

The real kicker is that the world-renowned university, ETH Zurich, is providing 75,000 USD’s worth of funding to any biologists who wishes to pursue the reason for this primate’s mysterious death . . .

A small smile crept onto Henry’s face. He passed the phone around so that each of them could see the contents. One by one, the team's collective jaws dropped at the sight of the massive sum of money. Each of them turned their attention to Henry’s face. 

“Well, who’s ready for a road trip to Borneo?” 

Summary of Year One

In the first year of The Crisis, the effects of Jamie Skinner’s death were not apparently noticeable. Compared to most suicide cases prior to this one, however, the London Police Department did not handle it well at all. Their first mistake was allowing the story to get out to the news and public, which further promoted it before they were able to put in effective measures to stop the spread of the dangerous idea. 

Another one of the slips that they made, though this one was partly the government's fault, was hiding the case from their own policemen to further stop the contagion. This gave way to the emotion ingrained into humans deeper than any other, curiosity. Young detectives wanting to prove themselves would embark on the mission to uncover the mystery murder of Jamie Skinner. Although they were held back at every turn, the truth of the case was very close to being discovered in the first two months, which might have given them enough time to recover. Unfortunately, the truth was only discovered two years after the incident, and by that time too many people had been drawn in for the effects to not be catastrophic. 

As for the separate case of the Intelligent Animal Behavioural Defect, better known as IABD, an estimated four million USD were poured into finding the answer to the supposed biggest biological mystery of the century. This did help with the larger problem of climate change, but did nothing to stop the inevitable. At this point IABD was considered a disease effecting intelligent animals from across the globe, killing them in seemingly different ways in massive numbers. Though this number would grow, six species had been documented with cases of confirmed IABD by the end of the year 2025. These were Pongo pygmaeus, Pan Paniscus, Loxodonta africana, Psittacus erithacus, Orcinus orca, and Mobula birostris.

Each of these species were linked by their intelligence, social structures and problem-solving skills, so their unexpected deaths were coined under the term IABD. The deaths of these organisms were characterised by the fact that an animal had the ability to stop the death with minimal effort before the event took place. Killer whales not coming up to breathe while they were asleep, manta rays stopping their movement and suffocating, along with other similar cases became commonplace during this year, and the populations of these species dropped to fifty percent of their original pre-Crisis sizes by December 2025. Unfortunately, the cause of the dramatic deaths of these intelligent animals was only discovered in the second year, but by that time it was too late to revert the effects. 

As for climate change, the Amazon, Great Barrier Reef and other diversity hotspots were almost completely destroyed by 2025, from logging, acidity and other dangerous threats that couldn’t be averted. The sea level rose by 10 meters, a drastic change that affected coastal cities around the world. Most countries decided climate change was an inevitability, and that there was no reason to protect their nature reserves, so national parks shut down and were left rampant to poaching and illegal logging. The few that did stay regulated were strictly guarded and extremely profitable, with people across the world visiting them before the species went extinct. 

Social media influenced every life on the planet, where 70% of social time was spent through social media. More than half of all children built relationships with artificial chatbots that later were proved to have no emotional capacity at all. The quality of education dramatically decreased, and no major improvements in any scientific fields were made. Acceptance rates for universities were in the decimals, and the pay for scientists was averagely twenty thousand per year. 

Russia took over Ukraine by the end of June in 2025, with no nuclear actions taken from either side. Israel withstood the joint attack of Palestine, Lebanon and Iran and took over Palestine in March 2025. Almost every economy on the world turned into a capitalist system, and the economic wellbeing of the average human improved greatly.  

At this point only a few American officials and the British government knew of The Crisis, Unfortunately, this would change quickly in the next few years.

Zurich, Switzerland, Year 2026, Information Age

Daniel sipped at a beer as he edited his new video. He had a good feeling about this one, but that could have been the drink talking. Whatever the case, Ukraine’s Secret Plan to Beat Russia was a great name for a video. Obviously, breaking through the Ukrainian firewalls for military data was no easy task, which is exactly why he didn’t break them. Besides, conspiracy theorists didn’t care about the reliability of a source, as long as it was a source, they would believe anything.

Sometimes they don’t even need a source, just some homeless wack job who probably hasn’t read the news in two years with a pamphlet about secret aliens. 

Daniel was always a fan of making a quick buck, but he had limits, and one of those breaking into government only information. Getting arrested was not on his bucket list, and he didn’t plan on paying any fines either. Putting in the occasional harmless conspiracy like this one kept governments and other organizations off his arse. 

His keyboard clacked underneath his hands as he furiously deleted a couple of cringy jokes and other such problems that would make him lose viewers. 

“You going to actually get a real job now? Or are you still hooked on becoming a professional 'YouTuber?’” said Luca with frustration. Though his face looked angry, and his hands were balled into fists, he still didn’t look too threatening with a nice medium-sized grey suit, a cleanly-shaved beard and an actual hairstyle. It surprised Daniel that he hadn’t realised how much more healthy Luca looked. 

Someone’s been going to the gym. 

Almost like a mirror, Daniel checked his body in hope of something wasn’t there, and was sorely disappointed. He had put on quite a few kilograms, and the bulge in his belly was evidence of that fact. The last time he had checked, he was eighty, pushing ninety kilograms of meat that he was sure wasn’t healthy for him. Personally, he blamed the McDonald's. That coupled with Starbucks had become his staple diet after the chain restaurants bullied the smaller cafés out of business. This had a negative effect on his health and a positive (if he could call it that) effect on his online time.
The problem with his job is that wasn’t very stable, and that had recently made a couple of problems between him and Luca, relating to his unwillingness to pay rent. The other roommates they used to have had long gone, supposedly because of him not pulling his own weight. Daniel believed that it was actually because of the rancid smell of Luca’s socks.

Kind of rude, I’d say. I do have money, I’m just . . . responsible with it. He had to say this to himself a few times before he half believed it. 

“Just you wait Luca. I’ve had a lot of streams in the past few weeks, and you’ll be begging for my money when I hit it big.” 

Luca sighed. “Look, I’ve tried to help you. I really have. I’ve done everything, I’ve paid for your rent, I’ve gone on walks with you, I even checked out your channel once. But that’s a shitty thing to do with your life, helping a shitty person. So I’m going to stop now.”

“Pffff. Sure you are.” Daniel mocked, already turning back to his pristine gaming setup.

“I’m serious. I’m leaving tomorrow morning, and then you’re on your own.” Luca walked to the door and left, figuring the argument was over. Daniel ignored the slam of wood against wall that echoed around the room and focused on his video. 

Bitch. After a few more cuts and edits, he sent the video to the internet, and relaxed. For some reason, the dingy apartment seemed to look more dusty than ever. Every surface save that of his PC’s was coated in a layer of dust that had piled up over the months. His bedroom, with clothes strewn across the floor and dirty bedsheets falling off the mattress. The kitchen, or really just the storage cupboard, had stains from uneaten meals on every counter, and there was a massive pile of disgusting dishes that probably had been left to decompose for more than two weeks.

Without Luca, the apartment would fall into shambles within a fortnight.

Right, it’s okay. I just need to get a bit of money from Jack. I’m sure he won’t mind. 

He brought out his WhatsApp and scrolled to the bottom chat. The last message were a string of texts begging Jack for money. They had been left on read for more than a year. Even with though Daniel was the last person to ever get embarrassed, this chat brought blood to his cheeks

Yo, can we meet up? 

I wanna talk.

He put his phone back into his jean pocket and continued with his investigation for new content. 

The internet, surprisingly, was not up-to-date. There were no new fresh news stories and no new conspiracies that worked for his channel. Even the almost constant stream of information 

Except for that god-damn IABD crisis shit. Didn’t get me a single view that one. I guess people just don’t want to listen to someone yapping about our inevitable deaths. Makes sense, I guess. Okay, maybe there’s something from last month that I missed.

Scanning through the normal hodgepodge of news stories, Daniel could find nothing worth his time. 

Fuck.

Desperately, Daniel searched through Fox News for anything that seemed legitimate. Unfortunately, that was not the case.

Fucking republicans. Can’t help but lie. No one’s going to believe me if I spew out this crap. 

His eyes squinted as he looked into the all-encompassing light of his computer and searched for more articles. 

No, nope. Definitely not. 

Oh, this again. 

The title of the old post stated:

One responsible for the unsolved string of murders in London claims yet another victim as the case turns into a year-old problem. 

Daniel’s eyes sparked at his lucky find. The vague memory of looking through this article popped up in his head. 

Oh, you’re the boring one, aren’t you. Perfect, they’ll have to have added some sort of information since last year.

Daniel pushed back his chair in anticipation and relaxed his fingers, then he grabbed his cold beer and gulped the last of it down. Folding his skeleton so that his head nearly touched the desk, he put his fingers to the keyboard and set off. 

Using the same techniques as always, Daniel sped through the first firewall in less than thirty seconds thanks to his own specially-programmed AI. The password had changed since last time, but not by much. 

LondonPolice2. Wow, for police, you really aren’t hard to steal from. Who do you think you’re stopping? Might as well open the front door. 

Organization had been implemented to the system the police had used, and now there were five separate files of data once inside the folder.

• Assault, Battery and Attacks

• Theft, Smuggling and illegal distribution of goods

• Damage to property, both public and private

• Human smuggling, murder, and attempted murder

• C2

C2, what the hell is that?

Daniel looked between each of the files in indecisiveness, figuring which one to transport. Then he laughed.

Why bring one? Just take them all. Sure it’ll be harder, but why not just flex your muscle, Daniel?

As he pressed his touchpad and clicked the button to confirm transportation, an error message popped up. 

Error 68753

Sorry, there seem to be an error in your method for transportation.  Please wait while we send a message to the file’s creator to ask them to change the file’s permissions. 

“Oh, shit.” Daniel muttered under his breath. “No. Fuck. Don’t do that, don’t send a message, there’s no need.” He quickly went under his desk to search for his signal blocker memory stick in his box of pen drives. His hand dived into the box until he pulled out memory stick 23. Quickly he plugged it into his PC, but it was too late. The text now said:

Message sent. 

“Oh, fuck. You dumb arse, Daniel. God dammit.” Daniel quickly released every swear word in his arsenal as he massaged his eyes. 

Oh shit, I’m screwed if they find out where it came from. I have to erase my tracks. And I can always get another one, eventually, but I can’t if I’m in jail.

Reaching down into the box, he found another pen drive labelled #17. 

“God. Five hundred dollars, down the drain. For nothing.” Closing his eyes, Daniel slotted the memory stick into the PC. There was a dramatic pause, then the monitor went black and the PC turned off. 

“Fucking London Police.”

Why the hell is it so protected? That’s got to be some top secret information, and it would craze my fans if I broke through. 

Daniel ran a hand through his hair then sighed heavily. The dingy dark room seemed to encompass his entire vision.

I need to get out of here. 

Walking towards the door out of his flat, Daniel pulled out his phone as he put on his sneakers. A speech bubble popped up under his most recent chat. Jack had replied.

Sure. I’ll be at the Starbucks. 

He walked out the front door and went to the lift. Pressing the button for the ground floor, he entered the lift and put his head against the cold metal wall. 

***

Daniel spotted Jack’s tall slender figure cramped into the compartment for people half his size, his spine bent as he sipped his latte. He looked up from his coffee. 

“Daniel. Hi.” Jack looked very awkward in the situation, and he began to scratch his forehead.

“Hey. Nice to see you again.” 

“Yeah. Long time no see.” Daniel could feel Jack’s brain reaching out for conversations starters. But to no avail. 

“So, how’s life as a professor?”

“Not bad, not bad. I’ve got four PhD students right now, all working on separate projects. It's quite nice, discovering things with your students. And you, how's life as a YouTuber?” 

Daniel’s cheeks flushed a bit at that question. When your entire income was based online, there were no payments or monthly checks. Your livelihood was based entirely on the whims of people who were probably still in their parents’ house. He sometimes had good days, where he was actually able to function and buy his own food, but there were bad days when he got barely any watch time, and even less money.

That’s why I’m here, to change that. 

“It’s good, yeah.” They fell back into silence again. 

Daniel started up again. “Look, I was wondering if yo—”

“I don’t want to hear it Daniel, I’ve cared for you long enough, and I really can’t give you any more—”

“Can I crash at your place?”

Jack looked bewildered. “What?”

“It would only be for a few nights, I’m just, having some issues with money, and my setup is ruined, so I just need a bit of time to, you know, rest. And look, man. I’m really sorry. I was being so shitty to you, and I was being a complete bitch about the money. So is it okay, if I, you know. . .”

Jack looked at Daniel curiously for a minute, then he smirked. Eventually, he said, “Okay, sure.” 

Relief flooded Daniel’s face. “Thanks so much Jack, I just—”

“But I have some conditions.” Daniel was a bit crestfallen. 

Uh-oh.

“Okay, name them.”

Jack took a long sip of his coffee. “First, I expect you to do your part of the chores. We’ll take turns, but you have to pull your own weight.”

Daniel nodded. “Fine by me.”

“Next, you have to help out at the university. I’ll pay you if you help give tutoring to some of the students.”

Daniel winced at the thought.

Sacrifices have got to be made. You win some you lose some.

“Fine, alright. Anything else.”

Jack’s smile widened. “If you’re going to live at my place you can’t be on that screen all day. It’s bad for your health. Did you hear about that group of kids who killed themselves over AI? Really not good for you. So, I want you to take down that channel.”

I was afraid of that. Alright, fine Jack. Have it your way. I guess I’ll just not use YouTube then. 

Jack wagged a finger in front of Daniel’s face. “I’ll be checking if you don’t take it down.”

Daniel rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine. Happy now?”

Jack smiled with glee. He put one hand over Daniel’s and squeezed. “I’m glad we’re friends again, Daniel.” 

Daniel gave him a half smile. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t get too sappy with me.”

“I’ll see you tonight, then?”

“Yeah, I’ll just get my stuff.”

Daniel stood up and walked to the door, then turned as he heard Jack call after him. “You better be there by six for dishes!”

“Alright, Jack.”

As Daniel went out the door, the background noise of the city came right back into his head. Car careening past, crows cawing, kids giggling, the occasional stray dog, and the arguments of the elderly. 

Well, that was a success. Now it's time for some searching.

Daniel pulled out his phone once again, which, Jack would probably say was one of the changes he’d have to make, screening while walking. Regardless, it was for a good purpose, that purpose being to make some money, and he could repent for his sins later. 

People working on the Skinner case.

There were quite a few results that showed up on his screen. The results of the Skinner case, what it tells us about our society, a bunch of analyses and summaries. At the bottom of the search tab was the City of London Police Force website. 

For the infamous Skinner case, the current officers working on the year-old investigation include:

Chief Inspector Diana Stone, leading officer of the team.

Inspector Jonathan Brooke, second in command of the team.

Detective Sergeant Lilith Evesborough

Detective Constable Ben Oroware

Police Constable Poppy Garner

Police Constable Samuel Adams

Alright, it can’t be someone too high up, they won’t give me anything no matter what. And no one too low, they won’t have anything to give. 

Lilith’s a nice name. 

A bit of searching and watching (he hated the term stalking, it gave the wrong message), he managed to find one of her social media accounts, which was shockingly empty of posts. Then he found her phone number with a bit of a struggle, and sighed. 

Hey, Lilith.

You want help with that case of yours?

London, The UK, Year 2026, Information Age

The week hadn’t been good to Lilith. It had rained non-stop since Monday, she’d pulled two all-nighters, and the Sam and her got into a massive argument over why she didn’t move in with him. All of this on top of the constant pressure of the Skinner case amounted to a week that wouldn’t stop pushing her. 

Slheew. 

In front of her, Ben’s glasses reflected the TikTok dance he was watching avidly while slurping at a boba tea. It was getting on her nerves

“Can you stop that?” She snapped. Ben’s face looked startled as he stared up from his screen. “Some of us are actually trying to work here.”

“Don’t blame me, I’m just taking a break. Besides, it’s not like we’re doing any serious work right now.” He returned to his screen, and continued to guzzle his drink down. 

“Ben, you better listen to her. She’s your superior, and she could choose to let me steal your job.” This not-so-subtle hint from Poppy had more of an effect on Ben than anything. Ben was not a fan of on-the-ground work, and he wouldn’t dare to let go of his precious screen time. 

“Right, yes boss, sorry.” 

Lilith nodded. “Thank you.” 

Perks of promotion, I guess.

Lilith had accepted the sergeant position reluctantly, because more work in the police department was never welcomed by anyone other than Inspector Brooke, who took everything on his plate and guzzled it down for breakfast. The only other benefit besides authority was the sweet pay cheque she got every month, which gave her a much better flat, a new iPhone and a bunch of other advantages that come with money. If it wasn’t for that massive increase in her income, she wouldn’t have taken the job. 

“Sergeant Evesborough, how’s the report on the latest murder coming along? What was his name? Fred Carson?” Lilith’s shoulders jumped as the explosive voice echoed around the room. Ben snickered at her distress. Under the table she flipped him the bird.  

“Frederick Carrie ma’am, and it’s complete. We’ve addressed the boys' death, shown a few leads we have, and a couple other things.” This had been the twentieth murder linked to the Skinner Case in the past year, and was yet again a distant friend of Jamie Skinner’s, which had led them to believe that there was one distinguished killer. In almost a year and a half, they had made no headway or progress on the case. There were no suspects, no evidence pointing to anyone anywhere. The only clue, and it was a bare one, was that each of the victims were personally connected to Jamie Skinner in some way.

“Good. I expect the report to be published tomorrow, Constable Oroware. Do you hear me?”

“Yes Ma’am!” was Ben’s anxious reply. Lilith smirked. As much as Ben said he wasn’t afraid of anything, Stonaphobia was definitely his affliction. 

“Good. And Constable Garner, Constable Adams? What does the postmortem say?”

The low and rough voice of Sam spoke up. “Overdose on paracetamol, Ma’am. The chemical entered the body around two hours before the incident, they estimate.” 

Lilith felt a pang of guilt as she heard his voice. They hadn’t talked to each other since last night, when he had asked her to come to his house for the night. But he had to understand, didn’t he? They’d only dated for three months, and Lilith hated to rush things like that. 

Like mum always says, wait till the new coat of paint has dried before you decide to put on another layer. 

Nostalgia seeped into her body. She really had wanted to go back to her parent’s house last Christmas, but emergency matters on the Skinner case had called her back to the police station. And job an income came before family, sadly. 

“Alright. Send me the roadmap of all the deaths and their locations by tomorrow.” Stone replied.

Lilith nodded. 

Suddenly, through the door hurtled Inspector Brooke, carrying a large stack of papers with him. He had a huge smile on his face as he said, “Done with the last report! All of them are printed and ready to be filed! We’re finished with the workday, boss!” 

CI Stone looked around the room, staring at each of their faces with her electric blue eyes, then nodded. 

“Go on then. I expect you all to be in the office by eight tomorrow!”

With groans of defeat, each of them slowly got out of their chairs and packed away their possessions. 

Lilith could hear a buzz from her phone as a new text message popped in. She took out the device and checked. It was from an unknown number. The text message read:

Hey, Lilith.

You want help with that case of yours?

She rolled her eyes. She hadn’t got any of these sort of messages before, but she’d heard her friends getting them before. Having everything you’ll ever need and everything about you that anyone else will ever need on a small rectangle of metal was pouring ten chickens’ eggs into a suitcase. You could guarantee that someone would try to steal those  metaphorical eggs on occasion, at which point it becomes a serious concern. 

Fucking stalker. Shouldn’t have posted your number on Instagram, Lilith. 

She quickly texted back. 

Fuck off. 

She put her phone back in her pocket, but almost immediately a text popped up again. 

You sure?

I can help. Also, you’re wandering into the middle of the road. You probably don’t want to run into a car now, do you? 

Sure enough, she was walking smack-dab in the road. She nervously looked around to see if there were any cameras watching her. 

A new text bubble had appeared on the screen. 

Stop looking around. I’m not watching you like that, I’m just using a GPS tracker. Lilith’s eyes widened. She was really frightened now. 

How did you know that? 

The reply came within seconds. 

Just a hunch ;)

Now do you want help or not?

Lilith thought for a second. She quickly texted back.

Sure. 

The number replied. 

Great! My name’s Daniel, and I already know who you are. 

Batang Ai National Park, Malaysia, Year 2026, Information Age

Fifteen in the last week. All confirmed cases of IABD, and what was worse was that the disease was accelerating its rate of spread. Henry removed his glasses and polished them with a cloth and sighed. 

The job of a biologist is the fate of—

He didn’t have the heart to finish that thought. He’d heard it too many times before for it not to be ingrained into his memory. 

Jane walked in through the door of the lodge with papers in her hand. Henry looked up from the graph. She dropped them on his desk and explained, “The report on the orangutans. We’ve seen increased signs of stressed in eighty percent of the animals, which are common warnings for IABD. We also found that the older the animal is, the higher signs of stress they have.”

“Okay.” He looked in vain for something for her to do. In times like this it was vital to stay occupied. “How about this. Why don’t we get the team together and go monitor that mother orangutan, with the baby? What do they call her, Pemeluk? It’ll cheer us all up.” 

Jane nodded sadly. “Okay, I’ll get them out of their lodges.” 

As she exited through the wooden door, Henry skimmed through the report. Out of the original one thousand and fifty individuals that had once been resident to the park, around eight hundred were still alive. Out of the quarter thousand dead, ninety percent had died from falling off a tree, while the rest had ingested dangerous toxins. The rate of population decrease was 1.5 percent every two months, and now populations across the park had been suffering from IABD. The report was not good news. 

Henry could feel the sweat pouring down his chin and pooling into droplets that fell onto his wooden desk. They had been there for more than a year, and he still hadn’t adapted to the extremely humid climate. He wiped the wetness from his face with a thumb.

Carlos peeked his head through the door. “We’re awake now boss. What do you want?” 

“Are Hafiz and his team with you? I know they wake early, so they could be on their own expedition, but I thought—” 

“No they were still in bed, like the rest of us, when Jane came in with a bloody megaphone to come wake us up.” This was from Mikael, who was grumpily hiding his messy bed hair behind a warm woollen beanie. 

“Alright, I’ll just get my shoes on then. I’ll see you in a bit.” 

The door closed, and Henry bent down to tie his boots. Then he walked through the door into the beautiful untouched rainforest that surrounded the camp. Tropical birds were chirping, the numerous species of frog calling out, and droplets of water were splashing from leaf to leaf. 

He nodded to the Malaysian team of scientists that were also working on the IABD problem. Hafiz, the research leader of the group and bio graduate from the University of Malaya, was grinning broadly and seemed prepared for the day's trek. “Dr. Yuzaini, good to see you.” 

“And you, Dr. Smith.” was his reply. Hafiz gestured to his colleagues. “We’re ready to go when you are.”

“Great. Who’s ready for a walk?”

***

Thirty minutes in, all signs of human touch to the rainforest were gone. They were entrenched in ferns and plants, and vines were creeping down from massive trees. Through the dense canopy some sunlight shed down upon the forest floor, illuminating the vibrant budding flowers that covered each plant in a multicoloured rainbow. Hornbills and parakeets were flying everywhere, and Draco lizards were gliding from tree to tree. High above in the tops of the trees, Henry could just make out the swinging of branches as a family of gibbons raced past. The place was ethereal.

There’s no other way to describe it. 

“According to the GPS, Pemeluk’s tracker is a hundred and fifty meters away from us.” Said Hafiz. “It’s further down, closer to the lake. She also isn’t moving, which is good for us. Of course, she could have taken it off by now, and then we’re left with a discarded tracker.” He laughed. “Right then, onwards.” 

He and his team took the lead.

“Ugh . . . I can’t believe this.” groaned Camille. “I am covered in sweat, mud has soaked my body, and my perfume has been completely replaced by the smell of bird faeces!”

“It’ll all be worth it in the end, señora.” Carlos said from behind his back. He was preoccupied with his boot that was stuck in the mud. “Orangutans are beautiful once you get to know them. Strong, graceful, and they smell surprisingly good.” 

Camille batted her eyelids in mock outrage. “Are you comparing me to an ape?”

Carlos looked speechless. “That’s not a bad thing— I’m just trying to help you—” 

“I’m kidding, darling.” She kissed the top of his forehead. Henry didn’t know when the two of them had become a thing, but it was quite tiresome for the rest of them. 

Not easy to find love when your research team’s the only people you see regularly, and yet somehow they still managed it. 

Mikael rolled his eyes. “Oh my god, you two. You’re like hormonal tigers. Can’t help going at each other’s throats before fu—” 

Collins cupped a hand over Mikael’s mouth. “Please try to be decent Mikael. For the sake of everyone else here.” 

Mikael snorted, which caused Collins to remove his hand and rub it on his shirt sleeve. “Tell that to the two of them, boning right next doo—” This time it wasn’t Collins who silenced them. 

In front of them was a massive gathering of orangutans. Some of them were clambering from vine to vine, others were picking at fruit that had fallen to the shrubbery below. Some of the younger ones were busily frolicking in the mud, shrieking playfully. It was marvellous. 

“They’re beautiful.” Henry muttered. 

Up in one of the trees, a small tag around the wrist of an orangutan was flashing a green light. For the tracking device they had used a modified Tabcat to monitor Pemeluk and her child’s movements. The baby, (recently christened Sayang by the park guides) was climbing up the mother’s leg with his lips puckered, as if it was immense effort to reach his mother’s lap. 

Hafiz walked up to Henry. “I’m concerned, Henry.” he whispered. He didn’t want to frighten them. “They shouldn’t be all together like this. These individuals have come from all across the park. There must be at least two hundred of them here.” 

Henry looked around at his team. They all were staying deadly quiet, waiting for him to do something. He turned back to Hafiz. “Let’s get a camera trap in place at this spot and return to the cabins. I don’t want to affect their natural behaviour.” 

Hafiz nodded. “That’s a good idea.” He gestured to his research team to come back up the hill. They all nodded in understanding. 

Hearing what Henry had said, Mikael carefully pulled out a dark-coloured blocky camera trap from his bag and started setting it up around the base of a tree. 

Carefully, Henry, Hafiz and both their teams started to retreat up to the camp.

Snap.

Under Henry’s foot, a branch had just broken. He slowly turned around to the orangutans. Every single one of them was staring straight into his eyes. Then, one by one, they climbed up the tall trees. 

“Oh, thank goodness.” he heard Jane say. He realised he had been holding his breath. Orangutans, when provoked, were a dangerous force to begin with. But an entire dozen dozen of them would be more formidable than an angry mob. 

Henry turned back to the others. “Alright, let’s continue—”

Thud. 

His head snapped back. There, in front of him, was a bright red body lying limp on the ground.
“Oh no.” 

Thud. 

Thud-thud thud. 

“No. This can’t be—” He could hear gasps from behind him as more red bodies hit the ground. 

Thud. 

Thud. Thud-thud. 

A smaller orangutan hit the ground at Henry’s feet. It was very young, and its eyes were still open. It was Sayang.

Tears came to his eyes. And dropped on the forest floor. “Even the children?” 

Thud-thud. 

Thud thud thud-thud. 

Thud. Thud-thud.

“No.” Henry fell onto his knees.

Thud thud thud. 

“NO!”

***

They were back in Henry’s cabin. All thirteen of them. There was long and oppressive silence. 

Mikael, surprisingly, was the first to speak up. “Maybe it was a freak accident? They ate the wrong plants or something? Because otherwise that was the largest mass outbreak of IABD in history.”

The question was greeted with quiet melancholy. 

“I don't know, just throwing ideas around.” Mikael said, as if retreating his query. He looked more stone faced than any of them, yet there was not a single tear on his cheek. 

A rhythmic buzz started to come from Henry’s phone, which insistently was vibrating in his pocket. 

That’s weird. There’s almost no reception out here. I didn’t think anything would get through. 

Feeling apathetic, Henry pulled out his phone. The caller’s name was Ava, which gave his heart a slight jolt. He looked around in the room. “I’ll talk to you guys later. I need to take this.”

With absolutely no energy, he went outside the cabin. He picked up. 

“Hey, how are you?” 

A female voice responded. “I’m not here for you, Henry. Bella wants to talk to you.” This brought a tear to his eye. 

“Oh. Well, give her the phone then.”

The voice from the phone changed to the one of a joyful six-year old. “Hey, daddy!” 

“Hey, sweet pea.”

“Are you helping the oringtans?” He choked up. 

“Yeah baby, but they’re not feeling very well right now.” 

“I heard how they keep getting hurt by that guy called Iyabadee. But I think I know why.” 

“Really, Bells? Tell me then.” 

The eager response came through the phone. “Well, I was thinking, you know how climate change hurts them and stuff? Well, maybe it hurts too much for them to keep on going, so they ask that bad guy Iabadee to send them to heaven, so they feel all good again.” 

He stopped sobbing. He had just thought of something. “You might be right, Bells. I’ll see you soon, alright? Love you.” 

“Love you, Daddy.”

He hung up, and walked back into the cabin. Each of both teams looked up at him expectantly. 

“That wasn’t a mass outbreak. That was a mass suicide.”

Summary of Year Three

The Crisis reached one of its tipping points when it’s spread to other countries. By December of year three, there were a total of a two hundred and twenty deaths across the western world, mostly in the UK, but there were also seventeen in the US, eight in Canada, three in France, and one in Denmark. At this point, enormous amounts of resources were used to keep the contagion under control. Although they didn’t tell the public, news apps were restricted from reporting on the “Skinner Case” and most websites that reported on it were taken down from the internet. 

The second big leap that the Crisis took was when the first female case was reported, giving it access to the other fifty percent of the population. The way the disease spread was through similar thinking minds. For example, when victim number one, Jamie Skinner, died, the ones most susceptible to attack were those who thought most like Jamie, i.e. male 18-year-old friends from the same neighbourhood as him. 

Unfortunately, once another victim is killed, that gives host to a whole new set of potential victims that Jamie Skinner probably didn’t know at all. Because of this, the Crisis spread rapidly spread across countries, as well as generations, races, and eventually, gender. Once there was a female victim, the spread was very close to uncontrollable. 

What became the strongest barrier for stopping the spread, was culture. There are many culture sets on earth, and the western world has one of the biggest. Even though Europe and North America consist of many different ethnicities, their culture, their way of life, remains largely the same. 

Unsurprisingly, people with different cultures struggle to understand each other, which serves as the perfect shield for other cultures to defend themselves with. In the Southeast Asian countries, the Skinner case was written off as some peculiar murdering spree. In Russia and China, it was considered a result of the Westerners' inability to protect their citizens. 

As for IABD, there were now fifteen different animals afflicted with the disease. Most of them were primates and cetaceans, but there were a few other species, such as parrots and social fish that were sited as well. At this point, most populations had decreased to 75% of their original sizes, and the the rate of reproduction had slowed significantly. At this point, thanks to Henry Smith, the cause of the problem was indeed successfully found. Mass suicide.

The term describes the willingness to die, to kill yourself. This defect of nature is inherent with all organisms, Smith described, due to a combination of factors. 

The first factor is the sociality of the animal involved, and how much the animal relies on others of its species. Social species, or species that used to be social (such as orangutans), spread ideas much more effectively than other organisms. Once an apparent leader of a group of animals decides that killing itself is the best option, other animals will be more inclined to follow and do the same thing. These dangerous ideas are then much more easily spread through social networks, which leads to mass suicides, such as the one seen by Smith in 2026. the social aspect of an animal also makes it more inclined to follow the leader as a product of evolution. Those who listen to what the smartest individual says are most likely to stay alive. Ironically, this does the exact opposite of what it is intended to do. 

The second variable is the overall stability of their habitat and how much contact they have with climate change. Depending on where the animal lives, the degrees of IABD will differ. In an untouched environment, Matriarchs, pack leaders and other authority figures in a group of social animals will not be inclined to kill themselves. Smith theorised that an organism finds intense pain to be an indicator of death. Since they cannot experience death, extreme pain, both physical and emotional, substitutes for this inability. Therefore, an animal who experiences a sufficient amount of pain will kill themselves to get rid of said pain. This all leads to the stability of habitat and its effects on the animal. Without a strong, biodiverse environment, an animal will eventually feel pain due to malnutrition, injuries, and deaths of other organisms from the same species. Once the pain threshold has been surpassed, a mass suicide is much more likely to happen

The final variable, Smith believed, was an animal's intelligence. They could not be intelligent enough to understand the concept of death, like humans, otherwise they would realise that death is actually worse than intense pain. They also, must not be so dumb that they cannot find a solution for their pain. 

This, unfortunately, is only half true. The intelligence of an animal, once it has passed a certain amount, does not change the probability of a mass suicide. Even with a concept of death, which many animals do have, the outcome is still the same.

Zurich, Switzerland, Year 2029, Information Age

Daniel sipped from his tenth coffee tonight. 

“Okay, so what’s your game plan? Just bust in there and hope for the best?” 

The voice from the phone sighed. “I’ve told you, Danny. There is no way to find out. Each time the killer leaves no trace of the event ever happening. There is no way to expose them.” 

Daniel liked it when she called him Danny. For most people he would not tolerate that sort of thing, but for her, it was like someone actually cared about him, like she wanted to talk to him. 

He thought about her predicament. “Okay, how about this then. Get the files of the victims, see what you can find. If there are any patterns between them, like, they all are redheads or something like that, I’ll check their phone numbers, see what they were up to in their last few moments.”

Another sigh from Lilith’s end. “Danny, I really don’t think this is gonna work—”

“Sergeant Evesborough, why are you on your phone?” the electricity of the voice sparked his hand through the phone. It was Stone, Lilith’s boss

“Uh, sorry ma’am, won’t happen again.” There was a moment of silence. “There, turned it off.”

What? Why is she lying to her boss?

“Good. Now I expect you to be at the meeting room with your report at five, got it?”

“Yes ma’am.” Daniel heard the loud footsteps of high heels walking off from the phone. 

“OK, so can you do that?” He asked. 

“Sure, but I don’t think it's going to help us much.” She replied.

Us, he thought. Not her, us. Throughout the past years, Daniel believed he had finally found someone who he cared about. 

The two of us have such a strong connection. He knew everything about her. What she ate for breakfast, her favourite tea, the names she’d give her kids, hell, even the passwords for her phone and email. 

Okay, well, she didn’t exactly tell me about those. But you need to know about people before you jump into commitments, right?

“Don’t worry sure it’ll work. We’re bound to hit the jackpot at some point, right?”
He could hear her inhale. “But what if there isn’t an answer, Danny? What if it's just completely random. Maybe there isn’t any connection, and we’ve just—” She was starting to hyperventilate.

“Hey hey hey, it's alright. I know there's a pattern in this thing somewhere, okay. I promise, okay? We’ll find this murderer soon, I can just feel it.” 

“Okay. Thanks, Danny.” 

Time to pop the question. 

“Hey, I was wondering, do you want me to go to London? I could—” He was interrupted by inaudible chattering from the phone. 

“Sorry Danny, I got to go, my boyfriends here for our special candlelit dinner. Talk to you later, bye.”

“Wait what? You have a—” It was too late. She had hung up. “God dammit!” He was furious. He slammed the phone on his table and went to through his coffee cup away. 

So stupid. So stupid. Of course, she has a boyfriend, why would she care about some fucking foreigner from Switzerland. And judging by the sound of that voice, he’s probably good-looking too. 

Fuck! 

Walking slowly, he went to the sink to wash his dishes from the morning. He found it quite relieving nowadays, washing dishes. There was something about scrubbing the dirt off them that just let his mind relax.

He breathed in slowly.

Be calm. Breath in. 

He exhaled. 

Breathe out. Just relax, it’s— 

He yelled and slammed the plate on the floor, which shattered into hundreds of little pieces. 

It’s not fine! You changed your life around for this girl! You fucking moved out of the house and got a decent job for her! You went to the gym for this girl! You became such a good person! All for her. All for nothing.

How could you not have known? After all those years. 

A tiny tear dropped into the dishwater. He remembered those breathing exercises Jack had taught him. Breathe in. Breathe out.

It’s alright. You’re okay. And she’s a good friend who wants the best for you. 

Once he had finished his washing session he returned to his gaming chair and called Lilith. 

She answered immediately. “Hey, sorry about that, Sam invited me for dinner and I totally forgot.”

It took him a second to control his emotions. “It’s okay. Just glad you're back, is all. So, is there that top secret police meeting happening?”

“Yeah, I’m going to the meeting room right now, actually.” 

“Cool, do you think you could just, you know leave your phone on by accident?” He could tell she was grinning. 

“Alright, but just by accident. I’ll tell you when it starts.”

He smiled sadly. “Thanks.”

He relaxed for a bit as he waited for her confirmation. 

From the phone, he could hear small mutterings and chattering as the meeting started. 

“The meeting’s started.” He heard her whisper. He didn’t make a sound in case he jeopardized her position. 

Suddenly, from the room boomed a loud and prideful voice. The British accent was clear and distinguished, which made Daniel guess he was from what Lilith described to him as “posh London”.

“Superintendent May, Head of murder investigations in South London. From what I’ve heard, each and every of you in this room has worked on the Skinner case at some point or another. I am joined here today with Chief Inspector Stone. This purpose of this meeting is to fill everyone in on the current situation of the case. You may ask as many questions as you like.” 

From what he could hear, a bunch of hands had probably raised at the same time, which had led to a bunch of squabbles between each of the questioners. He held in a laugh at the chaos that was unfolding on the other end of the phone. 

“Enough!” Shouted the same scary voice that had shocked Stone. “You’re all here to be filled in on events. You are not here for the reporters to beat up the police, or vice versa.” There was a general round of laughter at this comment. 

“Right, let’s try this again. Chris, you’re reporting for BBC, aren’t you? Why don’t you start.” 

“What safety measures have you taken to ensure the safety of London’s citizens?”

May answered that one. “We assure you, all citizens have been taken care of perfectly so that they don’t get targeted by the murderer.” 

Another reporter came in to feed on the carrion. “And what about this murder story? How come we haven’t even caught the culprit? I mean, this case has been going on for half a decade!” 

“So far, the murderer we assume to be behind all of these victim's untimely deaths has been very hard to catch. Without proper evidence, we cannot mount a trial where we can guarantee their secure arrest and life sentence.” This time it had been Stone who answered. 

“And are we even sure that is one murderer behind this? This coordinated attack on all these victims must have more resources than just that of one man or woman?” 

There was a slight pause for this question. Eventually May said, “We believe that they do have immense resources, yes.”

This time Lilith spoke up. “How many have been killed by the murderer?” 

Perfect, a simple question to keep the reporters off their heels.

But the obviously simple answer did not come. Instead, the two of them together, both Stone and May stated: “That information is classified.” 

“What? Why are they doing that, Lilith? Why not just give the answer?” 

There was more silence. Then Stone spoke again, slightly agitated. “A reminder to keep your phones off during this meeting, please.” 

Oh, shit. 

“Sorry Lil!” he quickly said before she hung up.
So why did they not just give the number? Maybe they’re hiding something from her? Might as well do some research while she’s in her meeting. 

Quickly, he opened his PC and inserted three pen drives into his computer one by one. 

See how any annoying websites like these, huh?

He quickly searched up the London Police website, and signed in as a false account that he had made a while back with Lil’s help. 

Now he just had to give himself admin access, which was no easy feat. But, with an AI password manager and three separate viruses, he eventually got in. From there, he had to do some file digging, which eventually led him to the same assortment of files from three years ago. 

Assault, Battery and Attacks

• Theft, Smuggling and illegal distribution of goods

• Damage to property, both public and private

• Human smuggling, murder, and attempted murder

• C2

What’s C2? 

Nervously, he clicked the document. With a sense of nostalgia the same error page popped up. 

Error 68753

Sorry, there seem to be an error in your method for transportation.  Please wait while we send a message to the file’s creator to ask them to change the file’s permissions. 

Okay, see how you like this, you fucking error. 

Unleashing his two viruses that set apart breaking the connection of the document to the file’s creator, Daniel worked at getting the document cracked open. 

After four minutes of button mashing, Daniel had done it. He breathed out a sigh of relief. 

“Phew.”

Once his heart rate had lowered down by a few minutes, he opened the document. Inside there was a title that read:

Secondary Possible World Crisis

Daniel’s heart raced back to a sprint as he read through the document. With every word, his eye’s widened and his breaths became shorter. 

She has to see this. The channel has to see this. 

The world has to see this.

London, The UK, Year 2029, Information Age

The meeting had not gone as planned. The news reporters, like a mob of vultures, had descended upon Superintendent May and Chief Inspector Stone like they were pieces of flesh overripe and rotting. They had held their ground as best they could, but any information they gave just brought the rise of more questions that were desperate to be answered.

She sighed. That had not gone to plan, at all. 

“Hey, you need some water? You look tired.” It was Samuel, holding out a flask that was more tempting than ever. She quickly grabbed it and drank from it.

“Thanks darling. It’s been a long day, and those reporters just couldn’t help themselves. God.” 

Sam sat down next to her on the sofa in the lounge, and hugged her tightly. “Shame, you poor thing. Was the meeting really that bad?” 

“Yeah, I think I’m going to need a special movie night, to cheer me up, you know.” She looked up at Sam’s face mischievously. He smiled.

“Of course.”

Tap-tap tap. 

The classic black high heels of CI Stone stomped down the hall and stopped in front of Sam and her. “Sergeant Evesborough, come with me now, please. You may have a lack of respect for important meetings with the press, but you certainly won’t disrespect me. Now get to it, I’ll see you at my office, alright?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” 

Stone stalked off, quite positively pissed. 

She sighed once more. Sam looked at her worriedly. “What was that about?” 

She gave a small smile. “Had my phone out in class, and teacher doesn’t like that.” 

Her boyfriend smiled back at her lovingly. She was glad to have him on her side. It had taken her a while to get into policing, but he’d helped her make friends there, even though she was more experienced than he was. 

“Alright, go sit in the corner with teach. I’ll see you at three?” 

“You bet. Bye darling, love you.” She kissed him on the cheek before running after Chief Inspector stone. 

***

Stone glared at her from her office desk. The room was perfectly suited for the picky and precise, and Stone seemed to be the pinnacle of this. Each file was perfectly slotted into a different container. The baubles from her home life were staged in a straight line precariously sitting on the edge of her desk. Even her books shelf was ordered in what looked like the Dewey-decimal system. 

Shows her need to control. 

CI Stone gestured to the uncomfortable visitor’s chair that was place in front of her desk and directly parallel to her nose. “Sit.” 

Lilith obeyed. 

“What did I do, ma’am?”

Stone took out a paper from her neat organised stack, put on a pair of half-moon glasses before glancing back at her. “Tell me, Evesborough,”

No title, uh-oh. 

“What are the grounds for firing someone in the police force?”

“Slacking off, disobeying your superiors or committing a crime, ma’am.” Lilith recited, thinking back to her years of training. 

“And . . .” Stone waited. 

“Giving information to an outside source, Ma’am.” Lilith already knew where this was going. They had found out.

How do they know?

Stone looked her sternly. Her face was unreadable. “Really, now that’s interesting Sergeant, because I thought you weren’t aware of this part of the agreement. Not after you shared an insane amount of friend from Switzerland.” 

“He offered to help me with the case, Ma’am, and it wasn’t as if we were making much headway anyways so—”

“And, did he?” 

“We really— What?” Lilith was confused by the sentence. 

Stone repeated herself. “And, did he? Did he ever actually help you, or were you the one helping him?”

Lilith laughed nervously. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”

Stone looked gravely at her. “You didn’t know, did you.”

“Know what? Whatever it is, Daniel would have told me, I’m sure of that. He’s my friend.”

“Wow, haven’t been on the internet much, have you? We’ll see about that. Why don’t you call him? See what he says.” 

Lilith pulled out her phone, but her hand was shaking. Gripping her phone with both hands, she called him. He picked up instantaneously. 

“Lil, god, it’s so good to see you. You’ll have no idea what I found, it’ll blow your mind.” 

Stone butted in. “Go ahead, Daniel, tell her what you did.”

Daniel’s end went silent all of a sudden. “Is that—”

“Yeah, it is.” She took a deep breath. She was nervously pulling her hair now. “So, what did you want to tell me?”

Daniel took a while to answer. “Um, maybe it’s best if I tell you later. You look busy so—”

“I’d advise you not hang up Daniel, because then she’ll me explain it, and then she’ll hate you forever.” This was Stone once again.  

Daniel paused, as if finding what he wanted to say next. “I . . . found the truth behind the Skinner Case.” 

“And why don’t you tell her how you found this?” Stone looked even angrier than before. 

“I . . . hacked the London Police software.” 

“What?” Lilith was shocked.

How could you do that? 

“And I found something crazy though, Lil! They’ve been hiding the real numbers from us, from the world!”

“I don’t care, why would you ever hack something? That’s a crime! You can’t do that, to anyone.”

“Five thousand!”

“Wha— how?” 

“Five thousand people have died from them covering this up! They hid it from you and the rest of the team because you weren’t supposed to know. That’s why you’ve made no progress with the case! It’s because you aren’t even doing a real job! You’re just a publicity stunt to show that they are doing something about these deaths.”

“But, the murderer, how would he—”

Daniel’s voice became more urgent now. “Don’t you see? There is no murderer! There was never a single murder in the first place.” He breathed for a second. “Have you ever heard of the term, suicide contagion?” 

“Yeah, didn’t some scientists in Wales think of the idea? When one person commits suicide, people around them are more likely to do the same thing.”
Stone looked outraged. “That idea was found false four years ago! That is completely not based in fact, and is bullshit!” 

“Well this proves otherwise, Lil!” The frantic voice from the phone yelled. “Because of their stupid actions, this contagion has spread across the entire Western world! And the worst part is, no one knows about it! So people’s neighbours will die, with them thinking that it was some terrible murder, until they realise the truth of the story by which point it’s too late!”

Chief Inspector Stone cut in once more, anger lighting up her eyes. “Miss Evesborough, you have aided this idiotic man hack our website, encouraged him with baseless facts from twelve years ago exactly describing the incident in Wales. Since then, we have long since found these claims baseless and incorrect. Suicide contagion is a madman’s idea that has not a grain of truth.”

“Baseless facts, what, no. It said—” Daniel spluttered.

“And then,” Stone continued, like a steam-powered train. “To make matters worse, he spread these lies across the internet by posting them on his channel! He has been using you from the start!” 

“Lilith, don’t listen to her—”

“Why would you do this? Why wouldn’t you tell me.” Lilith felt her bones turned to ice at the thought. Tears rolled down her chin. 

“Well, I’m not the only one hiding things!”

Lilith glared furiously at her phone. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” She demanded. 

“Well, you did the exact same thing with Sam—”

“How does my personal life concern you?” She was angry now. 

“No, wait. I didn’t mean it like that, alright? I—”

“We’re done, Daniel.” 

She hung up with her cheeks wet and vision blurred. 

Stone looked at her with that same exposing glare and said, “You are fired, Evesborough.” 

Lilith left the room crying silent tears.

Los Angeles, California, Year 2029, End of Information Age

“Dad, I’m ready for breakfast. Get the waffles out already!” Henry heard the joyful yelling coming from the kitchen. He smiled. 

It’s good to be back.

“Coming darling!” Taking the two waffles in his hand, he comically juggled them around, saying, “Hot, hot hot. Hot hot.” His daughter laughed at his predicament. Bella’s giggles warmed his heart every time he heard them. Carefully, he dropped the two steaming waffles onto Bella’s plate. Then he picked up the maple syrup and poured it across them. 

“Mmm, yummy.” Bella said.

“What do you say?” He asked in a mock stern voice.

“Fankou.” was her reply, caught between a mouthful of waffle.

Henry packed her lunch box, put it in her bag and strapped her backpack to her back. 

“Ready to go to school, sweetheart?” She nodded. Henry planted a kiss on her forehead, then smiled. “Off you go then.”

Putting on her crocs, she walked out the front door and walked to the bus stop. It warmed his heart.

Walking to his sofa, Henry slumped into the comfy fabric and relaxed. Using the remote to switch on the TV, he flicked through the channels till he got to number 13. On it, BBC was reporting on the current state of London as slight floods were becoming commonplace.

He raised his eyebrows.

What happened to the Skinner case? That was on all the headlines a week ago? Huh. Oh, well. 

Henry went up to make himself a cup of coffee. Surprisingly, being a stay-at-home dad wasn’t all that bad. You got to do what you like for the entire day, there were no deadlines, and no problems. 

I don’t know why I went away in the first place. 

It was a bit sad, without his old team, and he missed them very much. But to him, family was too important to give up again. It almost ruined his marriage the last time, when he wasn’t there for his daughter's birth. He was just glad it was all over. He’d managed to get away from all that downtrodden climate sadness, and to actually build strong connections with his family. Besides, from what he’d heard, his colleagues were doing pretty well on their own. 

After the orangutan incident, he had needed a year of therapy to fully recover. Even now, he could still see Sayang’s face, staring up into the forest canopy. After that, he had returned to Ava and Bells, with a promise never to go away again. It hadn’t been easy, but Ava has started to forgive him. 

Just as the water started to boil, a ring-ring-ring came from the doorbell. 

Is that the post?

He walked to the door and opened it an inch. “Hello? Is that the mail? Just leave it on the doorstep, if it is.”

It was not the mail. In front of him was a young woman with blonde hair, khaki pants and a ton of perfume.

“Camille?” He was shocked.

“Yes, yes, I know.” She said sweetly. “I am amazing, you’re welcome.” 

“I don’t understand, why are you here? Shouldn’t you be on some research team somewhere?”

“No, me and Carlos, we’ve settled down in San Francisco. But I’m not here about that. We need you to—” He cut her off right there. 

“No. I am done with these expeditions. Besides, I already made my big contribution to science, didn’t I? What more do I need to do?”

Camille sighed. “I knew you’d take it like this. Look I know you don’t have the time, and you want to stay with your family, but you won’t have a family to save if the world goes to shit.”

Henry looked perturbed. “What do you mean by that?”

“The American government wants you to find a cure for IABD.”

Henry chuckled. “That’s impossible. Unless you want to remove climate change, which, governments have already proved they can’t do, then there is no cure.” 

Camille continued. “Look, this will give you more funding than any other biology job on the planet. WWF and IUCN are both funding it. You’d have millions of dollars at your disposal! And you tell me you can’t cure it?” She looked at him as if he was guilty of something. 

He huffed in frustration. “I’ve already told you, you can’t cure a mindset. If it was a disea—” He had just thought of something. “It doesn’t matter anyways.”

Camille stared at his face imploringly. “Come on boss, you could save those oranguta—”

“Please don’t talk about them.” He paused. His eyes were wetting. “Why do I have to save them? Why don’t I get my happy ending?” 

“Because without you, there won’t be any happy endings. For anyone.” Camille looked desperately at him. She whispered, “Please.”

He looked at her with a grim expression. “Tell me what I have to do.”

Summary of Year Six

k

By the end of year six, the truth of The Crisis had reached around the globe from one small video. This, according to Daniel Ester, was intended to notify the world about the ongoing Crisis, and to serve as some sort of protection for Western citizens. Though the numbers were inaccurate, the idea spread across the globe in a matter of weeks. News websites were not allowed to report on the matter, but the dangerous truth still spread like a wildfire. 

From this incident, governments from around the world realised the danger of free-flowing channels that could spread ideas like this at extreme speeds. This caused the entire western world to put massive bans on all internet. From this point on, News was strictly monitored and moderated, all social media platforms that weren’t solely for communication were taken down, and all search engines now needed licences for the use of them. And so the Information Age ended, and the Regulation Age began. 

Rising tensions between China and the US were causing problems for other countries in the middle of them, such as India and Japan, but otherwise no ‘wars’ broke out during this time. Later, historians would consider this the calm before the storm. Europe and North America, held together by the oncoming threat of The Crisis, were unusually unified. 

The assumed number of deaths from The Crisis were estimated to be at least seventy thousand. It was at this point that humanity saw its first Great Collapse. As a combination of pressure from Daniel Ester’s video and London being the origin of the entire event, The UK’s capital was the first to fall. By November, twenty percent of London’s citizens had fallen victim to the Crisis, and the city ceased to function properly. Another half of London citizens left the city and declared it “unholy.” The melting pot of a burg was left abandoned and ruined. 

The idea that was capitalism did not survive this disaster. Countries were too worried about keeping their people safe to worry about profit.

As for the biological world, IABD was still rampant across most environments. Most animals affected by the mindset had around fifty percent of their original pre-Crisis populations, while others had even less. Although there was a great push for a cure to the disease, it did not arrive in time to save the orangutans. The two Sumatran species were declared extinct in January, and the Bornean populations three months later. 

The interactions between humans and socially intelligent species was the biggest driver to prevent climate change and save the natural world. Unfortunately, with such a lack of these species, pollution, deforestation, and poaching saw a steep increase in popularity this year, while tourism and funding for national parks severely dropped in the ensuing months. Governments were too busy with the Crisis to help Nature, and wildlife organizations lost their funding from wealthy donors. Bio scientists had little to no support, so the profession started to quickly die. Ecosystems across the globe suffered the devastating consequences of this negligence, and most biomes could not function without human support. The Amazon, the Congo and the Great Barrier Reef were the only ecosystems that kept working, due to the few who still supported nature pooling all their resources together to create viable protection for the species in those habitats. 

Humanity now found itself choking its own mother though still connected with an umbilical cord, while the demonic infant it had created wrapped its hands around civilization’s neck.