Everything changed on August 12th, 2025.
An intelligent satellite, ECLIPSE, designed to save humanity, destroys it instead. ECLIPSE, standing for Earth Climate Limiter, International Project, Satellite Enabled, was built by government officials to...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
ONE OF ROWAN'S EARLIEST MEMORIES was the satellite launch.
At the time, it had seemed so insignificant. Five-year-old Rowan stood on his tippy-toes, struggling to see over a sea of people, clutching his favorite toy rocket in one hand his mother's hand in the other. The air felt tense, expectant. Chatter—murmurs, hurried words, prayers—drifted through the crowd.
It seemed to be a good day. The sky was olympic blue, dotted with the occasional cloud, and birds chirped and pranced around the trees. Lustrous red banners twirled around the launch site, proclaiming the words: ECLIPSE: Stopping Climate Change Today. Rowan wasn't sure why a ECLIPSE or climate change was, but he sleepily concluded that they sounded important.
"I'm so glad they're finally doing something about climate change," someone remarked.
Rowan looked up at his smiling mother, then back to the rocket—a gigantic piece of machinery resembling his toy rocket, except about a thousand times larger. Curls of smoke lingered around the base of the rocket, almost too thick to see through: the rocket itself was a white cylinder of metal, topped with a cone. On the middle of the rocket, the flag of the United Nations was painted, so far up it looked like a mere blur of blue and white. The word ECLIPSE was emblazoned below the flag, in blinding, metallic gray.
"See that rocket? That's the ECLIPSE," Rowan's mother told him, smiling. "It stands for Earth Climate Limiter, International Project, Satellite Enabled."
Five-year-old Rowan nodded, not understanding a word of what she was saying—his attention was drawn on the rocket, glimmering in the sunlight.
A chant was resonating in the crowd, growing louder by the second. "Fifteen... fourteen..."
"Ladies and gentlemen," a man's voice projected from the speakers set up around the perimeter, "We are honored that you have come to witness the launching of the ECLIPSE. This day, August 12, will undoubtedly make its mark in history, remembered for generations to come—"
The chant grew stronger, drowning out the announcer's voice. "Nine... eight..."
With a roar, the rocket's engines came to life.
"Seven... six... five..."
The sound was almost overwhelming now, rattling Rowan's eardrums. He clapped his hands to his ears; he could almost feel the ground shaking. Looking down, he realized the ground was, in fact, shaking. The rocket was wobbling a bit now, going from side to side as the noise increased exponentially. Somewhere in the crowd, the announcer gave up on narrating.
