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MidReal Story
Time's Edge: A Dystopian Odyssey
Scenario:بهزاد به دنیای آینده میرود
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Cyrus Thorne
leader of the resistance in the future, rival of Behzad and love interest of Elara, muscular build with a scarred face, charismatic and cunning
Elara Voss
scientist in the future, ally of Behzad and love interest of Cyrus, short with silver hair and piercing blue eyes, intelligent and compassionate
Behzad Kermani
time traveler, friends with Elara and rivals with Cyrus, tall with curly black hair, determined and resourceful
I was born in 1995.
I am writing this in 2049.
I am thirty-four years old, but I have only lived eight years of my life.
The rest has been spent in cryosleep.
I have just woken up and everything is very strange.
I have a computer implant in my brain that helps me understand all the new words and phrases that have been invented since I went to sleep.
It also helps me to speak English properly, as I was born in Iran and did not speak English as my first language.
My name is Behzad Kermani.
When I went to sleep, the world was on the brink of collapse.
Climate change had ravaged the planet, wars had been fought over resources, and the oceans had risen to swamp coastal cities and low-lying countries.
The world had also been on the brink of a new era of human civilization, with space exploration and colonization just beginning.
I was part of a program that would help to preserve the human race for the future.
Thousands of people from all over the world had gone into cryosleep to wake up when the world was ready for us again.
We were all young and healthy, with skills that would be useful for rebuilding a new society on a distant planet.
As part of the program, we were all frozen at the same time.
I step out of the cryosleep facility, blinking against the harsh sunlight that pierces through the smog-filled air.
The hum of drones fills the sky, a constant buzz that's both familiar and foreign.
My implant buzzes softly, translating the digital signs that flash above me in a language I don't understand.
People move quickly, their faces obscured by masks and augmented reality glasses that reflect the neon lights of towering skyscrapers.
I spot Elara across the street, her silver hair a beacon in the crowd as she waves me over with a swift motion.
Her eyes scan for threats, her gaze darting between pedestrians and hoverbikes zipping past.
As I approach, Cyrus emerges from an alley, his scarred face set in a grimace that makes him look like a battle-hardened veteran.
He nods curtly, acknowledging our uneasy alliance with a slight tilt of his head.
We head towards a nearby market, intent on gathering supplies for our journey into this altered world.
The smell of street food wafts through the air, mingling with the acrid tang of exhaust fumes and ozone.
Vendors call out to passersby, hawking their wares in a cacophony of languages that my implant struggles to keep up with.
Elara leads the way, her eyes fixed on a stall selling what looks like high-tech camping gear.
Cyrus falls back, watching our six as we navigate through the crowded market.
I follow Elara, my senses overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of this strange new world.
Suddenly, a loud crash echoes through the market, followed by the sound of shattering glass and screams.
I turn to see a hoverbike careening out of control, its rider slumped over the handlebars.
I yank Elara behind the nearby stall, the wooden crates creaking in protest as we scramble for cover.
Cyrus positions himself between us and the approaching threat, his eyes locked on the masked assailants moving with precision through the chaos.
One of them raises a weapon, its sleek design unfamiliar yet menacing, and I can feel my heart racing in my chest.
Cyrus signals for us to retreat, but the narrow alleyways offer little cover, and I know we can't outrun these attackers.
I spot a stack of crates nearby and gesture to Elara, who nods swiftly as we scramble over them, the assailants closing in with an unnerving silence.
Cyrus engages one attacker, his movements swift and calculated as he takes down the assailant with a swift kick to the chest.
I grab a discarded metal rod, its cool surface a comforting weight in my hand as I ready myself to defend against the next attacker.
The sounds of the market – vendors shouting, people screaming, and hoverbikes zipping past – create a cacophony of chaos that's almost deafening.
I peer around the crate, my eyes locking onto the masked figure approaching us, their eyes fixed on Elara with an unnerving intensity.
