Seventy-two hours. That was all it took to remake the world.
In the heart of what was once Zone Crimson, now simply called the "Reclamation District," Awakened entities walked alongside human construction crews. The obsidian device was gone, dismantled into harmless, inert dust by a flick of Luna's wrist. The crimson stain on the city was being scrubbed away, replaced by the steady, golden glow of the Awakened and the determined industry of humans working under their new directives.
It was on giant public screens in this district, and in every city square, every living room, every device across the globe, that the unified statement was broadcast. The faces of the world's leaders—the US President, the Russian President, the Chinese Premier, and others—appeared. Their delivery was flawless, their words clear. But their eyes were the same. Vacant. Polite. Empty.
