In the summer of 2028, a meteorite from outer space crashed into the Atlantic Ocean. Nathan's renowned laboratory was selected to examine it, hoping to uncover signs of alien life and learn about its mysterious origins.
Driven by sheer curiosity, I decided to hack into the lab's system on a quiet day, when most of the scientists were absent. My target was the examination tool that had been analyzing the meteorite. The system had just completed a thorough analysis, and the results left me utterly stunned.
The meteorite carried a deadly virus—one that spread rapidly through water. According to the analysis, every living being on Earth had already been exposed. The virus, however, was particularly devastating to humans. The report claimed that, at any moment, infected individuals could transform into mindless, monstrous creatures, driven to hunt and kill uninfected humans, consuming their blood in the process.
As I stared at the data, a dark thought crept into my mind: Isn't this the perfect opportunity to avenge myself—against my parents, my sisters, and the entire world?
The virus would bring death and destruction on an unimaginable scale. Everyone would lose someone they loved. Loneliness, despair, and abandonment would spread like wildfire. People would question their existence, grappling with the same torment I had endured for years.
Why did this virus appear? Why did it take away my loved ones? Why didn't it take me first?
Just as the world had cast me into an existential abyss, I would make the world suffer in kind. My parents, my sisters, and all of humanity would pay for the pain they caused me.
Sure, the ethical thing to do would be to alert the scientists. They might find a way to neutralize the virus while it was still dormant. But why should I? The world had never been ethical in its treatment of me. Instead, I would alter the analysis results, making it seem as though the meteorite carried nothing of importance. Humanity would remain blissfully ignorant—until it was too late.
Even if I became a victim of the virus, it didn't matter. I had no desire to live. My sole purpose was to exact my revenge before I died.
Yet, as I made my decision, I felt something strange—a connection to the virus itself. It was as if it were communicating with me, resonating with my pain. It assured me that it would destroy humanity for its countless sins.
The virus understood me in a way no one else ever had. It sympathized with my suffering. It promised to become one with me, granting me the power to fulfill my vengeance.
A smile broke across my face as tears streamed down. For the first time in my life, I felt understood.
Too bad it wasn't my parents, my sisters, or any other human being who had shown me this compassion. If they had, perhaps I could have let go of my hatred.
But they didn't. The world brought this upon itself. This isn't my fault—it's theirs.
I will destroy the world and force it to understand me. If words failed, punishment would not.