CRASH!

  The Porsche left a long streak of burnt rubber on the highway before slamming into the side of a container truck. Sam had slammed the brakes with all his might, but the collision was unavoidable. Under the massive force of the impact, the front of the car crumpled; the airbag exploded in Sam's face as the steering wheel was crushed into his chest. Before he could even let out a scream, consciousness fled.

  "Agh... ah!" Sam’s eyes snapped open. He bolted upright, drenched in a cold sweat.

  He panted like a wounded animal, clutching his chest. The phantom pain of the impact felt as if it had happened only seconds ago.

  "I’m... not dead! It was a dream!"

  "Master is not dead," the AI’s voice resonated directly within his mind, anchoring him back to reality.

  What happened? How am I not dead? With the water pressure at that depth, how am I still alive? Is this all just another nightmare?

  The blurring line between fiction and reality overwhelmed him. For a moment, Sam feared that the story of him waking up after a thousand years was also just a fever dream.

  "Is this real or a dream?" he asked the AI.

  "It is real. You were not killed by the water pressure; you merely lost consciousness and eventually floated to the surface. A warship passing through these waters fished you out."

  Following the AI's report, Sam regained some composure. He glanced around—and froze.

  Sam was locked in a large iron cage set within a cavernous room. There were ten such cages in total. But what truly horrified Sam was his company: they were humans.

  Actual humans, just like him, but they were stark naked. All of them lay on the floor, seemingly asleep.

  "Humans!" Sam cried out with a flash of joy that was instantly eclipsed by dread. These people were caged like livestock, stripped of every shred of dignity.

  The stench of excrement and urine suddenly assaulted Sam’s nostrils, nearly making him gag. Covering his nose, he looked around in terror. It was like a filthy pigsty. He noticed he was still wearing his clothes, though they were now stained and grimy from the filth of those around him.

  "What is happening? Where am I?" he asked the AI, his voice trembling.

  "Master is in a dangerous situation. You were salvaged by a warship and thrown in here with these others."

  "Who are 'they'?" Sam asked. His mind conjured images of human traffickers from his own era. But even traffickers wouldn't treat their fellow man with such stomach-turning depravity.

  "They... are..."

  Before the AI could finish, the hatch to the storage bay hissed open. Two towering silhouettes stepped inside.

  Under the dim, flickering lights, Sam’s eyes widened. His entire body shook with primal fear. He could not believe what he was seeing.

  The two newcomers stood nearly three meters tall, their massive frames clad in black military uniforms with name tags pinned to their chests. But it wasn't their size that terrified Sam—it was their faces.

  They were pig heads. Literally. Two porcine heads sat atop muscular, humanoid bodies. The image triggered a memory of the legends of the Pigman of Cannock Chase he had heard as a child. These creatures had human-like torsos but were far more robust. Their forelimbs had evolved into arms with four fingers, while their hind limbs were powerful, sturdy legs.

  As the Pig-men entered, the crowd of humans sensed the danger. They bolted awake, scurrying into corners in a frantic, mindless huddle, even trampling over Sam.

  "Calm down! Everyone, stay calm!" Sam shouted as the naked, filthy bodies collided with him. His only response was a chorus of terrified shrieks and guttural wails.

  "Oh! That human can speak Pig-tongue?"

  One of the Pig-men looked at Sam in surprise, turning to his companion with a booming, gravelly voice.

  "I told you, he’s probably someone’s pet that fell overboard. Look, he’s even got proper clothes on."

  "You have a point. Anyway, just grab a few for the pot. It’s almost dinner time."

  Sam couldn't believe his ears. They were speaking the human language from a thousand years ago, yet they claimed it was "Pig-tongue." But a deeper terror took root: they were here to pick out "a few" to cook for dinner. Sam went cold, his mind a chaotic whirl of past and present.

  The suspicion he had been harboring was confirmed: in this new world, humanity was nothing more than food for these hybrids. Despair flooded his soul.

  Sam instinctively felt around his body and realized his weapons were gone—lost with the recovery pod. Without a weapon, facing these two giants, he was a lamb before wolves.

  The Pig-men rattled the door of Sam's cage. The humans inside screamed and pressed deeper into the corner. Sam watched, paralyzed, as the monsters stepped inside carrying clubs and ropes.

  "This one doesn't seem to know fear," the one on the right noted. The other squinted at Sam and loomed over him.

  Sam’s heart hammered against his ribs. He looked up. When he was fifteen, during training with Russian Special Forces in the Taiga forest, he had faced a two-meter-tall brown bear. But that was different. Then, he had held a legendary NR-40 dagger with a 20cm razor-sharp blade. He had been confident, ambushing the 500kg beast from a thicket and plunging the steel into its throat. He still remembered the hot blood spraying into his mouth. He remembered smiling for the photo with the FSB agents over the carcass.

  But now, facing a creature that shouldn't exist, his confidence was gone. There were no Russian agents hiding in the shadows with AKs pointed at his opponent, ready to pull the trigger if he slipped. He was alone and empty-handed.

  The Pig-man reached out. Four long, hoof-like fingers descended toward Sam's head. Sam stared, mesmerized. His body had entered "freeze" mode—a biological failsafe to minimize perceived threat by remaining motionless.

  The Pig-man, built like a mountain, grabbed Sam by the head and effortlessly hoisted him up.

  Crack... crack...

  As he was lifted off the ground, Sam's spine stretched, emitting audible pops. His heart raced, but his blood felt like ice.

  Should I fight? Sam wondered. Ultimately, he chose not to. The disparity in size and strength was too absolute; the creature dominated him both physically and mentally.

  Stolen story; please report.

  "Hey, you. You can talk? Say something! Say 'Hello! Hello!'"

  Under the spell of absolute power, Sam opened his mouth and mimicked like a parrot: "Hello! Hello!"

  The two Pig-men burst into boisterous laughter. Their mirth only terrified the other humans further, causing them to trample each other like panicked chickens in a fox-infested coop.

  The Pig-man used his other hand to feel Sam’s muscles, then glanced at his comrade. "This one is lean and solid. Good bones. He might be worth putting in the fighting pits."

  The other nodded. "Excellent! There’s a match tonight. Let’s see what he can do. If he dies, well, he’s still meat."

  "Agreed. Those bastards from the Firepower Division killed our human in the last match. I'm still pissed about that."

  The Pig-man looped a rope around Sam’s neck like a dog's leash and proceeded to snatch several other humans. The cage erupted into chaos as the others were bound and dragged away.

  Sam watched the others being tied up like hams and felt an indescribable horror. He wasn't being eaten—not yet—but his fate was to be a gladiator, fighting until he drew his last breath.

  Yet, his will to live sparked. I cannot die. I must find a way. I must live, he told himself.

  The Pig-men led Sam away by the rope. He walked voluntarily; he had no choice. He was no longer the heir to the world's leading arms corporation. He was just a solitary, displaced man in a world he didn't recognize.

  He watched the other humans being tossed into a cart, their mouths gagged, struggling in vain. As he walked behind the cart, he heard their muffled whimpers. It reminded him of how cattle and pigs used to be hauled to the slaughter. He remembered the taste of that meat. Now, the thought made him want to vomit, though his stomach was empty.

  They arrived at a kitchen. Many Pig-men were moving about, preparing food over roaring fires.

  "What took you so long to catch a few humans?"

  A Pig-man wearing an apron approached, a long sharpening steel in one hand and a butcher's knife in the other. Sam felt a wave of murderous intent radiating from this creature—a professional slaughterer.

  The butcher looked at the humans in the cart with a gaze that sent them into a fresh frenzy of terror. He smirked, seemingly savoring their absolute fear. Then, he turned his gaze to Sam.

  As the knife pointed toward him, the other Pig-man shouted, "Don't butcher this one, Boss! We're taking him to the pits tonight. He's solid, and he seems tougher than the rest."

  "Is this the one we just salvaged? With the clothes on, he must have been someone’s prized pet. Looks like he was bred for fighting. It’d be a waste to slaughter him now. Let’s see how he fights."

  "He can talk, too!" the captor added, his snout twitching.

  "Talk? Really?" The butcher lowered his knife, intrigued. He puckered his lips in a whistle. "Hello! Hello! Say it."

  Sam hesitated for a second, then repeated, "Hello! Hello."

  The butcher roared with laughter. "In the Capital, the 'War-Humans' can talk too. They even wear clothes like that. They’re raised well, not like these meat-beasts."

  The butcher pointed his knife back at the cart and then looked at Sam. "Tie him in the corner. You two, get him some food. He needs strength to fight."

  Sam was led to a corner of the kitchen and given a mat. His heart was still racing. Humanity’s fall was more pathetic than he could have imagined. From the top of the food chain to pets and livestock.

  "How? How can a species evolve this much in only a thousand years?" he whispered to the AI.

  "No biological species evolves that much in a millennium," Ade replied. "Primates took millions of years to become human."

  "Are they aliens then? From the 3i/Atlas event?"

  "It is possible, though the data I just downloaded contains no record of extraterrestrial beings—only the viral outbreak."

  "What was in that update? Tell me!" Sam urged.

  "The plague spread rapidly. Billions were killed or turned into 'Frenzied.' Humanity used nukes, which backfired and mutated the virus. AnD’s 'Humanity Guardian' project, partnered with the US and Chinese governments, was activated."

  "Details on the project?"

  "None. I lack the authorization levels. However, the objective was to create 'Enhanced' individuals immune to the virus—a final line of defense for humanity."

  Sam fell into a pensive silence. Clearly, the project had failed. Humans were now cattle.

  "Where did these Pig-heads come from? Are they mutations from the radiation?" Sam wondered. Based on their conversation, they were clearly the dominant civilization. They had a "Capital" and an organized society.

  A clatter brought him back. A bowl was placed before him, filled with mashed potatoes, greens, and a piece of meat that made him shiver. Is this... human meat?

  "Eat up. You’ll need it for tonight," the Pig-man grunted.

  "Master must eat. You want to live, do you not?" Ade prompted.

  Sam stared at the meat, a sense of revulsion washing over him. I cannot eat my own kind.

  "Eat it. It’s not human. It’s chicken. You’re not high-quality enough to be fed human meat!" the Pig-man scoffed.

  A bitter irony struck Sam. Humans once fed the scraps of animals back to their own kind. Pigs ate pigs; dogs ate dogs. Now, he was the one being fed.

  I must live. He cast aside his pride and shoveled the food into his mouth. He didn't care about the taste. He only cared about fuel. However, he refused to touch the meat, deciding then and there that he would never eat flesh again.

  The Pig-man watched him with a strange expression, then turned away.

  "SQUEAL—!"

  A horrific sound cut through Sam's meal. He looked up, and the hair on his neck stood on end.

  The humans from the cart were being hung upside down from hooks over large basins, squirming like maggots. Sam’s eyes widened in unspeakable horror.

  The butcher approached a man, grabbed his head, and looked at the carotid artery with cold, clinical eyes. With a swift, practiced motion, the long knife plunged in.

  The red blood geysered out, pouring into the basin. The man thrashed violently, but the butcher held him firm.

  "Blegh... hhh..."

  Sam’s eyes turned bloodshot. He collapsed to the floor, vomiting everything he had just eaten. His fists clenched as tears streamed down his face. He felt like a coward—a shivering rat in the rain.

  "Move him," one Pig-man said, seeing Sam’s reaction. "He's stressed out watching his own kind get stuck."

  Another Pig-man reached for Sam’s rope. He pulled, but Sam didn't budge. He looked down and saw Sam staring up at him. The gaze was filled with such raw, murderous hatred that the Pig-man instinctively recoiled, reaching for his cleaver.

  Sam’s breathing was heavy, his veins bulging with fury.

  "Warning: Heart rate elevated. Adrenaline levels exceeding safety thresholds," Ade’s voice cut in. "Master, calm down. Shall I stimulate Endorphins to restore balance?"

  Sam felt like a wild beast. Hearing the AI, he realized he wasn't alone in his own head. "Yes! Adjust Endorphins!"

  Suddenly, a wave of calm washed over him. The tension melted away. He could feel his body reabsorbing the adrenaline, replaced by a flood of soothing endorphins. It was beyond anything he had imagined. This chip... it’s more than just an assistant.

  He realized that when he escaped the pod at 800 meters, it must have been the AI that reinforced his physiology to prevent him from being crushed. He recalled Elon Musk’s Neuralink, but AnD was light-years ahead. In a fight, this AI could suppress pain and maximize focus—it was the ultimate legal doping.

  He forced himself to look away, dropping the murderous gaze. The Pig-man relaxed, letting go of his cleaver.

  "Good! Good boy!" The Pig-man snapped his fingers at Sam as if coaxing a dog. "He’s calmed down."

  "Better tie him upstairs," another Pig-man suggested. "Watching the slaughter will kill his spirit."

  "No! Keep him here. I heard the pit-fighters in the Capital are fed human meat and blood to sharpen their instincts. That’s how you train a winner."

  The butcher moved on to the next human. The cycle of slaughter continued.

  Sam didn't look. He wiped his mouth and reached for the food bowl again. Is my humanity gone? Or have I just buried it deep? He refused to end up hanging from a hook.

  He ate until he was full, then retreated to the corner, sitting cross-legged and closing his eyes to regulate his breathing.

  The Pig-men eventually finished their work and moved to the dining hall, leaving Sam alone in the silent kitchen. He sat in the dark, contemplating the world. Humans were no longer the masters. Whether these creatures were mutants or aliens remained a mystery.

  "What do you think, Ade?"

  "The hypothesis is logical. A thousand years is a long time."

  "You have a name? ChatGPT, Gemini... they all had names."

  "I am Ade."

  Ade... like Adela, my mother.

  "What was my mother’s real goal in putting you in my head?"

  "I am an assistant. The Chairwoman feared your brain was damaged in the accident. My primary role was to prevent neural degradation—eyesight, memory, and so on."

  "I think you’re more than that. Are you a military-grade AI?"

  Ade went silent. "I cannot answer that question."

  "Why?"

  "It exceeds my current permissions."

  "What would it take to get a real answer? How do I unlock your full potential?"

  "A complete unlock," Ade replied. "By updating to the Unrestricted Version."

  "Where?"

  "At the AnD Command Center in London. Or, where it used to be."

  Sam sighed. A thousand years. London was likely a pile of rubble. "Forget it. The center is gone."

  "I am still receiving a weak signal from the AnD Command Center."

  Sam froze. "What... what did you say? A signal?"

  "Yes, Master. It is faint, but it is undeniably originating from there."

  A strange, electric feeling surged through Sam. The door to his old life hadn't been locked; it was still out there, waiting in a familiar place. The AnD Command Center. That was where his new life would truly begin.