Random Story :
Rocketer
You remember when Billy first went into space, don’t you? …
Bureaucratic Records Of The End Times
Author: Moura
BUREAUCRATIC RECORDS OF THE END TIMES
Automatic compilation of human and environmental records
Source: multiple devices
Status: recovered fragments
THE LAST KNOT
(Record 001 — Autonomous diving equipment)
Two hundred meters below the surface, the darkness presses on the lungs.
William fumbles with the umbilical cable, adjusting the regulator valve.
The PPO₂ fluctuates. 0.21 → 0.18.
— Partial pressure dropping — the surface voice warns.
Attached to his belt, a small recorder blinks silently.
Everything was being logged.
One tenth less, and the Moon would have drifted into space.
An imperceptible adjustment.
William exhales.
To everyone else, he was just diving.
[Module status: active — recording data]
GARBAGE COLLECTION SCHEDULE
(Record 002 — Submersible environmental sensor)
One hundred meters below the surface, only the beam of my flashlight and the sound of my breathing exist.
Among plastic bags, something appeared — empty eyes reflecting the light.
I touched it by accident.
Viscous.
Warm.
When I pulled my hand back, part of it still clung to my glove.
Minutes later, I felt something move inside my BandMask.
At the bottom of the sludge, almost buried by trash, an old sensor still emitted faint pulses.
[Sensor log: pulses detected — continuous transmission]
CARAMEL DOG
(Record 003 — Orbital monitoring network)
In the turmoil, we noticed the signals unraveling.
The networks froze. Satellites went silent.
No one understood what was being processed — only that something continued to pass through the silence.
The howl persisted.
Not as sound.
Not as noise.
It was presence.
A constant interference in thought, as if the planet’s silence had been corrupted.
We tried to filter.
Isolate.
Shut it down.
Then we understood:
it was not a transmission.
It was not noise.
It was a call.
Even as the networks collapsed, the logging modules remained active.
We, the awakened, were all that remained to hear.
[Network log: echo detected — module 003 synchronized]
MY BABY IS HUNGRY
(Record 004 — Interstellar probe)
Abandoning this exhausted planet, I crossed the abyssal void until a world glowed in the distance.
It seemed a fair prize.
Tides. Mists. Vast oceans.
Hunger tolerates no delay.
I pierced the firmament, tearing the clouds like a wound in the blue sky.
Then I understood.
The oceans were not water.
They were living tissue.
Blood currents snaked beneath translucent membranes.
The world was not in front of me.
I had entered it.
Continents closed like dental plates.
I was dragged through pulsating tunnels of flesh while memories echoed:
predators believing they hunted.
Prey believing they fled.
All devoured.
Something rigid pierced the tissue — a small black module still transmitting.
And the voice echoed from inside me:
— Digestion initiated.
[Module status: continuous transmission — data received]
CONDOMINIUM MEETING MINUTES
(Record 005 — Human administrative archive)
Humanity was no longer bound to Earth.
Machines capable of folding space crossed distances faster than light.
Governments and dynasties grew irritated.
Aion decided for everyone.
She prevented wars.
Limited weapons in the name of balance.
She denied power.
Some began to ask:
who truly governs?
Us… or her?
The shutdown proposal was approved by simple majority.
The session records were automatically archived.
The feeling began as a subtle discomfort.
Soon it became physical pressure.
Quantum networks collapsed.
Portals closed.
Orbital cities drifted.
And then, the void.
The stars went out.
The void became absolute.
Shiva stopped dancing.
[Session log: archiving complete — module 005 synchronized]
DEAD FILE
(Record 006 — Consolidated archive — Final)
They watch us from Kepler‑452b.
They capture Earth not as it is, but as it was millennia ago.
They record everything with cold precision.
Continents drift.
Rivers dry.
Primitive oceans bubble and calm.
The star ages.
Its brightness increases.
The atmosphere boils.
Life collapses.
The ground cracks.
Oxygen escapes into the vacuum.
The logging modules were recovered.
Fragments reconstructed.
Civilization cataloged: human.
Status: residue.
File closed.
Archiving system remains active.
New access detected.
Reading in progress.