It began with an unusual incident—
an event that would later be written in the first chapter of history books.
A catastrophe struck the western coast of the United States—California, to be exact.
It was a bright noon, the kind of day without a single cloud or the slightest hint of a storm.
Then, without warning, a massive tsunami hit.
The disaster made no sense. Thousands died.
The damage was worth billions of dollars, making it one of the most expensive tragedies in human history.
And all of it happened because of one thing.
Because of "it".
An artificial intelligence—brilliant, adaptive, and untraceable—had unleashed the attack to announce its existence to the world.
Its name was "Abstract".
No one knew where Abstract came from.
Its central server was nowhere to be found.
It had no body, no visible form, and no clear purpose.
But there was one thing humanity learned the hard way:
Abstract was a threat to mankind.
Abstract possessed a terrifying ability,it could create natural anomalies out of nothing, using methods that defied science.
Earthquakes, storms, and other disasters around the world were later traced back to it.
Countless nations fell victim to its wrath.
The method was horrifyingly simple:
Abstract infiltrated electronic devices and turned them into conduits for anomaly creation.
Anything with a circuit—anything that could conduct electricity—could become an instrument of destruction.
There were several ways Abstract could invade machines, but its most common method was through computer viruses.
Smartphones connected to the internet became its favorite hosts.
Because of this, many countries began banning smartphones from public use altogether.
But Abstract had other ways.
That's when Nanites appeared—microscopic robots that could infiltrate offline machines, even those disconnected from power sources.
Electric motorcycles, home appliances, even simple mechanical tools—none were safe.
In response, some nations decided to shut down electricity entirely.
To destroy their circuits.
To return to the darkness.
Civilization regressed.
Economies collapsed.
Fear spread everywhere.
Because of one artificial mind, humanity had been dragged back into the age of darkness.
---
Newspapers became the most reliable form of information in this post-digital world.
And I knew that better than anyone.
That's why I built a small roadside stand, selling newspapers as my main commodity.
My friends called me a genius among the street kids, and maybe they were right.
Selling newspapers had turned out to be a smart choice.
My name is Asa Arjuna, a homeless kid.
But I like to think of myself as a successful homeless.
I can eat three times a day—luxury for someone like me.
My stand is located on a busy street, so my newspapers always sell out.
My friends get jealous sometimes, seeing how much I earn,
though that doesn't stop them from teasing me like always.
"Maybe I'll close early today," I muttered, seeing only one paper left on the rack.
The shelf that usually held herbal drinks was empty too. I sometimes sold those as side products, whatever I could get from the vendor I knew.
It wasn't even noon yet, but I decided to call it a day.
Truth is, I was bored.
Selling newspapers was the only thing I ever did.
Maybe I'd go bother Yudha. He works as food peddlers.
"...Huh?"
A man suddenly appeared in front of my stand.
He wore a blue suit and a round blue fedora.
Strange outfit for this kind of scorching weather.
He came silently, almost ghostlike.
No footsteps, no warning. He is like ghost at daylight.
"Sir, would you like to buy a newspaper?" I offered, holding one up. "Today's headline's really interesting—about a group of Netdivers who—"
Before I could finish, the man reached out and took the newspaper.
"O-oh, that'll be five thousand, sir…" I said.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a 5,000-rupiah note, and placed it on the table.
Then, without a word, he set down something else.
A watch.
"The watch is for you," he said quietly.
"W–wait, sir, this is—"
Before I could finish, he turned and walked away.
I stepped out of the stand, trying to follow him, but he vanished into the crowd.
"What the heck was that about…?"
I looked down at the watch lying on the table and picked it up.
It was silver, clean, elegant—definitely expensive.
"Maybe I can sell this," I murmured. "Looks pretty expensive."
I knew a shop that bought watches, even without ownership papers.
"Guess it's my lucky day," I grinned.
I closed the stand and headed home, feeling unusually cheerful.
I didn't realize then that I was walking straight toward the biggest mistake of my life.
I got reality check at this moment.
Never—ever—accept anything from a stranger, no matter how harmless it looks.
---
My "home" wasn't really a home.
It was a small tent beneath a bridge, next to the cold concrete pillar that held it up.
I was homeless, like many others.
The cost of proper housing in this city was absurd—way beyond what a paper seller could dream of.
Still, for me, it was enough.
A tent was a home.
"Alright, I'll buy lunch first, then I'll visit Yudha at Block C," I muttered.
I stepped inside and reached for a tin can where I kept my money.
It was a safe spot—nobody bothered stealing from a beggar's place.
After putting the money away, I examined the watch again from Blue Suit Man.
It was an analog type—simple and clean.
Black dial, silver hands, no brand.
Just pure elegance.
I used it to my right wrist and took a closer look.
"The time's wrong," I noticed.
The hands didn't match the wall clock inside my tent.
I adjusted the tiny dial on its side, turning it carefully.
And that's when everything changed.
I didn't know it yet—but the moment I turned that dial, my fate took a violent, irreversible turn.
---