Post by Westcompany on Mar 24, 2016 0:14:12 GMT -8
Has Mankind made its progress.
And so it has. For millennia, humanity's ability to manipulate the world and the universe grew, seemingly unstoppable in its wake. Progress that had previously taken centuries first took fifty years, then decades, then years. Suddenly, where progress had been a lazy, calm ocean, it was now an unstoppable, unending tide of information, discovery, advancement. New mediums of communication were devised. For the first time, the world was truly connected. The year is two-thousand and thirty-eight. The first computer capable of learning, interacting, and even feeling like a human being, the first AI, is devised.
Follows this incredible discovery a rush towards the future, an age of technology. Soon, new boundaries are discovered, new marks are breached.
The year is two-thousand an eighty-four. The oil reserves all around the world are now on their very last legs. Thankfully, the failing nations are saved by an helping hand: A scientist, a young talent, discovers the secret behind cold fusion. Soon, the world becomes fusion powered. After a bit of trial and error, the first centrals are established and the energy crisis averted.
The sky is the limit. No more, says mankind. A manned ship, containing over two-thousand men and women, departs from Earth towards Mars.
The year is two-thousand three-hundred thirty-seven. The first Mechanized Extreme-Environment Combat vehicle is devised, constructed and put to use. An arms race follows, that brings to the creation of the first viable man-portable laser weapon.
The year is two-thousand five-hundred sixty-two. The Third World War, so miraculously averted hundreds of times, becomes the cold, harsh reality. However, the war does not devolve into a nuclear conflict. It is unclear as to which side fought which side, but the losses were considerable.
The year is three-thousand and eight. A cryptic message from the Martian colony unsettles and strikes fear in the hearts of Man. The colony is lost to the stars. The search party sent from Earth finds nothing but radioactive dust and the ashes of a million souls. Mankind retreats once more to the safety of the Homeworld and its moon. Many space programs fail for sudden lack of founds.
The year is three thousand two-hundred fifteen. Technology is shaken by another discovery. A meteor shower lays waste to the world. Thousands are felled. However, these meteors contain a new material, an iridescent metal. Element 127, commonly referred to as "God's Tears". This metal, of incredible (mostly unknown) properties, brings to the creation of yet another generation of technology.
The year is three thousand five-hundred eighty-four. The first confirmed Psyker, user of Psychic abilities, is discovered. Many will follow in the decades to come. By the year three-thousand seven-hundred ninety, the 0,4 percent of all humans turn out to be latent psykers, with many more showing particular connections to it.
The year is three thousand eight-hundred fifty-seven. The Hour is Nigh. The Sky Darkens. Doom. Death. Destruction. The End of Times. Fourth World War turns mankind's greatest fear into reality, and bathes the world in a halo of nuclear fire. The world as they knew it was there no more. It was the beginning of ours.
The year is five-thousand something-hundred something. All is Dust. We are all the mortal remains of that which one day was called mankind and ruled upon this world. Only vestiges of our former glory are machine-gods, marvels of engineering forever stuck in the sand, and ancient, ancient bunkers, filled with ancient, powerful technologies, and guarded by terrible mechanical guardians. Of mankind, only this remains. Us, the sand, and whispered words in the wind.