Chapter 3: The First Countdown & The System Arrives
The humid air of Metro Manila shimmered in the twilight, thick with anticipation and the vibrant mingling scents of charcoal grills, roasting lechon, and the sharp tang of gunpowder. It wasn't just the familiar symphony of relentless traffic; tonight, the city pulsed with a joyous, almost feverish energy unique to this festive occasion.
Below, streets, parks, and every conceivable open space overflowed with life. Multigenerational families spilled out onto sidewalks, their tables groaning under the weight of food, with the prized, glistening lechon taking center stage. Groups of men gathered in countless family compounds, glasses of liquor in hand, their voices growing louder and more boisterous by the minute. Friends huddled together in lively clusters, faces illuminated by garish temporary stage lights and early bursts of color painting the inky sky above. Among the throngs were also foreigners, drawn by the city's infectious energy, celebrating alongside locals as their varied accents layered the soundscape. Laughter, shouts, excited screams from children, and a multitude of overlapping conversations created a happy roar that echoed between buildings. From doorways and windows, off-key warbling from karaoke machines mingled harmoniously with the thumping bass of party music, forming a uniquely Pinoy soundtrack. The pops and whistles of firecrackers added a constant percussive beat, punctuated by the sharper blasts of more ambitious fireworks lit by confident "Kuyas" in various neighborhoods. Even the sounds of drunken uncles maneuvering on motorcycles, their horns blaring a festive, albeit slightly wobbly rhythm, contributed to the inimitable charm of chaos.
Thousands of eyes were locked skyward or glued to massive LED screens erected like temporary monuments in plazas and along main thoroughfares. Others gathered around smaller televisions glowing warmly in homes and restaurants, all sharing a single, unified focus.
Across the sprawling metropolis, millions savored this collective moment, fueled by food laid out on long tables laden with holiday feasts and the thrill of shared excitement.
On the main stage before an ocean of revelers, a host's voice—already hoarse with excitement—boomed from colossal speakers, joining a chorus broadcasted from smaller stages and television sets in every district. The New Year's Eve countdown to 2020 had officially begun.
"Ten!" The unified shout erupted instantly from the main plaza, picked up by crowds from other locations, a wave of sound rolling across the city.
"Nine!" Phones and cameras were thrust higher into the air, their small lights adding to the spectacle, capturing this extraordinary moment.
"Eight!" The ground vibrated with the sheer energy of millions standing together, breathing the same humid air and sharing the same hopeful anticipation.
"Seven!" Around the edges of the crowd, impromptu dance circles formed—brief explosions of joyful movement. The distinct smells of the holiday feast mingled with the sharper tang of smoke from distant fireworks and the general haze of the city.
"Six!" Faces turned upward, eyes wide with a mixture of excitement and wonder, silhouetted against increasing flashes of light in the sky.
"Five!" Hands reached out for loved ones, ready to embrace. The weight of fresh starts, brimming with possibility, hung heavy in the air—a swell of collective optimism washing over the city.
Up in their modest apartment, life continued its own rhythm—a microcosm reflecting the city's energy. In the kitchen, Martha bustled around the spread of food laid out on the counter and draped across the table. Beads of sweat dotted her brow despite the whirring electric fan, and she gave a final check to the pansit while carefully arranging the puto. The warm air was fragrant with cooked dishes, enveloping her in a different kind of anticipation.
Across the small living area, near the open balcony door, Diego sat with a couple of friends, their voices low and relaxed as they shared stories and sipped liquor—the clinking of glasses soft against the distant roar of the city. A half-empty bottle and a plate of pulutan sat untouched between them.
But the true spectacle unfolded above. On the rooftop of the apartment building, fifteen-year-old Dan stood beside his seven-year-old sister, Bliss. A cool, refreshing breeze offered slight reprieve from the night's heat. Their faces were turned skyward, illuminated by the vibrant explosions blooming high above the city skyline. Joy radiated from their smiles, wide enough to stretch from ear to ear, reflecting pure, unadulterated happiness.
"Wow, Kuya Dan!" Bliss squealed, pointing a tiny finger at a particularly large, golden burst. "That one was SO big! Like, bigger than our building!"
Dan chuckled, tracking the shimmering trails of light as they fell back towards the city. "Almost, Bliss! Look at the colors on that one!" A rapid succession of red, blue, and green spheres erupted, painting the sky in fleeting, brilliant hues. "It's like the sky is painting itself!"
"Which one is your favorite?" Bliss hopped slightly on the balls of her feet, giddy with excitement.
Dan paused, watching another enormous firework bloom far in the distance. "Hmm... I like the really tall ones. The ones that go way, way up before they open. They look like they're touching the stars."
"Yeah! Me too!" Bliss giggled, craning her neck back as far as it could go. "Do you think the stars like the fireworks?"
"Maybe," Dan smiled, gently putting an arm around her small shoulders. Below them, the city stretched out like a twinkling carpet of lights bordered by the dark, rippling ocean. Above, the true show continued—a man-made constellation of fire and light. They watched in awe, mesmerized by the spectacle, the booming sounds reaching them like distant thunder.
"Four!" The roar of voices swelled, drowning out everything else—a powerful, unified sound of anticipation propelling the city forward.
"Three!" The atmosphere felt charged, electric with the pent-up energy of millions.
"Two!" A collective breath seemed to hang in the air, held tight across the metropolis.
"One!" The final digit floated, suspended in time—a collective inhalation poised for the cathartic explosion of a new year. The last echoes of the countdown faded, replaced by the breathless pause before an impending storm of celebration.
Then, the climactic firework that should have bloomed didn't appear. Instead, high above, a single point of swirling, impossibly vibrant light manifested directly above the city. This wasn't an explosion of fire and color from below; it was an alien phenomenon unfolding—a silent spectacle of unnatural energy that expanded rapidly, ominous and beautiful. The kaleidoscope of colors within it defied earthly physics, inducing awe and dread simultaneously. Concurrent with this breathtaking yet terrifying manifestation, the Aethelred System artifact appeared—not falling like a star but descending within a silent, impossible aura of shifting rainbow colors. It was the black, ancient 7x7x7 cube, its malevolent runes faintly glowing, plummeting towards the unsuspecting planet below, wrapped in that beautiful, terrifying light. It didn't crash or embed itself. The moment that light-sheathed Box reached the Earth's surface, it didn't impact like a physical object. Instead, as you envisioned, it dissolved. Like cotton candy hitting water on a cosmic scale, the black artifact and its surrounding rainbow aura simply melted, integrating instantly into the very essence of the planet itself, vanishing from sight as it became one with the Earth.
Then, midnight struck. **January 1st, 2020.**
And the world didn't roar. It ceased. The anticipated thunder of fireworks, the joyful screams and cheers, the blare of horns and music – all of it was annihilated in an instant. Not faded, not muffled, but erased by an absolute, deafening silence. It was a physical vacuum, stealing sound from eardrums, pressing in on the mind with unnatural weight. The vibrant life of Manila, a second ago a symphony of impending celebration, was replaced by the terrifying sound of nothing.
Darkness followed, swift and total. Streetlights lining EDSA died like snuffed candles. The dazzling LED screens of commercial buildings went black, their advertisements plunging into sudden night. The warm glow spilling from countless homes vanished. Headlights on frozen vehicles winked out. Every mobile phone screen, every camera lens aimed at the sky, became a dead, dark mirror. Above, where moments ago the moon had shone, a pale disc observing the human ritual, there was now only an impossibly deep void. The moon was simply gone.
This wasn't contained within the city. Across the globe, the same unnatural darkness and silence fell. Continents plunged into simultaneous night. Every piece of technology, from the supercomputers processing data to the simplest digital watch, died.
Communications vanished. High above the atmosphere, satellites ceased their silent journeys, their circuits dead. Spacecraft became dark, tumbling tombs.
On the ground, amidst the sudden, absolute stillness and blackness, humanity itself froze. Millions upon millions, locked in place like statues. Smiles fixed, eyes wide and unblinking, mid-step, mid-laugh, mid-embrace. No sound escaped a single throat; the capability of movement, of voice, was stolen. The air filled with the silent terror of a world suddenly, impossibly paused.
On the rooftop, Dan and Bliss were caught in the same terrifying suspension. Dan's eager smile was fixed, his arm frozen mid-gesture around Bliss's shoulder. His eyes, wide and reflecting nothing, stared towards where the moon had been. Bliss's mouth remained open, her silent giggle trapped forever at its beginning, her hand pointed at a sky that was now utterly alien. They felt it, this universal paralysis – their own bodies rigid, breath held, minds screaming against a cage of frozen flesh. Across the city, they were just two among millions, caught in this moment of impossible stasis. Martha, frozen with a plate in her hand, Diego, suspended mid-toast – the entire city, the entire world, a silent, dark diorama.
Then, just as the terror of being trapped reached an unbearable peak, out of the oppressive blackness and silence, light flared. Not just one light, but millions, simultaneously. Streetlights lining every avenue snapped back on with a sudden, blinding jolt. Dazzling LED screens across buildings blazed back to life, momentarily searing eyes accustomed to the dark. The warm glow spilled instantly from countless homes, restoring familiar patterns to windows. Headlights on vehicles blinked back to life. And with the light came the sound – a sudden, overwhelming rush as the unnatural silence shattered. The muffled roar of the city traffic, distant music, the blare of horns – it all rushed back in, a chaotic wave. But this wasn't just noise; it was the sound of physics reasserting itself violently. The shriek of tires, the sickening crunch of metal on metal as cars frozen inches apart slammed into each other. The thud of previously suspended objects hitting the ground. The cries of pain as people mid-fall or stumble completed their motion or were struck by resuming physics.
Simultaneously, dormant mobile phones screens flickered back to life in millions of hands and pockets, signals instantly restored, technology obeying a command only the alien System could issue.
At the exact same instant light and sound returned, fifteen inches from Dan and Bliss's faces, a light bloomed. It wasn't the harsh glare of a restored streetlight or the gentle glow of a lamp. It was a soft, internal radiance, coalescing into the shape of a screen. Suddenly, impossibly, a thirty-two-inch monitor materialized in the air between them, glowing within the now-restored, chaos-filled city night. It was utterly transparent, yet its edges were clearly defined by a faint, luminous glow that pulsed with a soft, internal light. The air surrounding it hummed with barely perceptible energy, exuding an unnatural chill.
The unnatural stasis shattered. The breath that had been stolen returned with a ragged gasp that swept across the city, joining the sounds of calamity and returning urgency. Movement flowed back into millions of bodies, many stumbling or collapsing as their frozen positions destabilized. Dan and Bliss gasped, but their sounds morphed into raw, high-pitched terror mingling with the incoming din of crashes and distant cries for help. It was a collective cry—a visceral release from impossible stillness and the shock brought by the alien screen now visible amidst the tumultuous, disaster-stricken night. They stumbled back a half-step, arms dropping from their frozen poses as panic surged through them, their hearts hammering violently against their ribs.
Then, slicing through the cacophony of returning reality, a new sound resonated directly within their skulls. It was a voice—robotic and cold, undeniably synthetic yet distinctly female. It possessed a chillingly flat, clinical tone bereft of any warmth or inflection. This voice didn't boom or echo; it permeated everywhere at once, impossible to pinpoint, impossible to ignore.
In an act defying comprehension, the voice spoke in their language. Flawlessly, unnervingly calm Tagalog echoed in the apartment, reverberating simultaneously in English in New York, Mandarin in Shanghai, Spanish in Mexico City, Swahili in Nairobi—every language spoken globally, broadcasting into every ear, drowning out the rising tide of panic and chaos.
Concurrent with this eerie voice, visible through the open balcony door, the luminous screen flared slightly, its impossible light effortlessly cutting through the restored streetlights. Across its glowing surface, stark, alien text materialized.
In simple, chillingly clear letters, the message read:
**WELCOME TO AETHELRED SYSTEM.**
The words hung in the air—a mirror to the glowing screen hovering above. The robotic voice fell silent, lingering in an unsettling global echo. In their apartment, the family held each other tightly, the initial terror morphing into a deep, cold dread for the unknown future. What was this System? What did it want from them?
The answer—or perhaps just the next phase—came quickly. The text on the rooftop screen shimmered and dissolved. With immaculate timing, the synthetic voice cut through the frenzied environment once more, speaking globally in every tongue.
"INITIALIZING."
As the dispassionate command reverberated throughout the space, the stark word INITIALIZING bloomed across the transparent screen, glowing with that same enigmatic light. It served as a digital pronouncement of colossal, alien preparations underway, wholly unimpressed by the human panic it incited.
A brief, tense pause followed this declaration, the word hanging heavy with the weight of unseen processes. The family, huddled together, could only stare at the radiant word, minds racing to grasp its meaning amid lingering shock and the renewed noise of the city outside.
Then, without hesitation, the voice spoke again, the text on the screen shifting instantaneously to match the new command.
"BONDING."
**BONDING.** The third word appeared, simple yet stark, delivered by that same omnipresent robotic voice. It resonated not just throughout the air, but somehow within each listener's very essence.
With the utterance of the word "BONDING," a new layer of reality settled over the chaos of the restored city. The voice pronounced one last time, accompanying text flaring beneath the word 'BONDING' on the screen:
**"COMPLETE!"**
**COMPLETE.** The word loomed in finality. Concurrent with that final proclamation, a profoundly bizarre sensation began to stir within them, and presumably within everyone else across the globe. It wasn't a physical touch from the outside, but an internal thrumming—an invasive vibration originating deep within their very beings as the Aethelred System established its roots and connectivity. This sensation surged with an icy cold, settling into their bones, accompanied by a dreadful clarity that bypassed conscious thought, confirming the violation.
The feeling intensified, evolving from a subtle hum to a distinct frequency vibrating beneath their skin. It resembled energy flowing through them, cool and foreign, intertwined with an uncomfortable clarity and a growing pressure behind their eyes. Every cell in their bodies began resonating with an alien rhythm, a connection that was unwelcome and unstoppable, unfathomable in nature. This was the System not just making its presence known but embedding itself within the fundamental fabric of humanity—the process of Bonding firmly initiated and declared finished.
The Bonding process now complete, a pervasive internal thrumming persisted—a constant, low-frequency echo interwoven into their very beings. Outside their apartment walls, the city seemed physically restored: lights blazing, sounds flooding back—a tableau of false normalcy overshadowed by the fresh sounds of disaster and distant sirens. Yet, this was a normalcy tainted—a world irrevocably altered. The hovering screen on the rooftop pulsed softly, the only glaringly alien element in a realm that now felt intrinsically wrong. Its light glimmered in a growing pool of water on the damaged rooftop, likely from a burst pipe—a silent, eerie mirror to the invading presence. The moon remained obliterated, replaced by the uncanny void where the anomaly had torn the skies—a haunting scar across the returned heavens. The vibrant hope that had surged moments before the countdown was extinguished, ushering in a suffocating dread. The Aethelred System was not merely present on Earth; it had forged a partnership within it, integrating itself inseparably within humanity. The invisible tendrils of control took root, and with that, the age of mortal freedom ended, giving way to a harrowing era of cosmic subjugation. The System lay embedded and ready—the groundwork for an insidious harvest was complete, the stage set for the Council's next horrifying phase.