My gaze wandered across a sky so pure and blue it looked as if it had been washed clean of all human impurities. No cloud dared stain it-no condensation trail, no trace of metal or smoke. Nothing crossed it; it remained intact, sovereign, spreading its gentle vastness above the world.
That azure blue reflected in my own eyes, a sapphire blue almost too pale to be believable, as if the sky sought a mirror in them to confirm it remained identical on both sides of reality.
The sky was free of pollution. No planes. No birds. No mechanical noise. Just the sky, the sun, and me.
The sun had climbed to its zenith. Noon, or close to it. Its warmth cloaked my skin and, under that tender oppression, my eyes half-closed. My limbs grew heavier, as if daylight itself held a narcotic power. I let myself slide down onto a carpet of grass and flowers, overtaken by a slow, delicious drowsiness.
A gentle breeze swept across the hill, caressing my body with an almost maternal embrace and tousling my light blond hair. It carried a fragrance of parsley, Provence herbs, and fresh mint-an aroma of summer cooking and ancient meadows, like those one imagines in Burgundy or Aquitaine, lands where something genuine still lingers.
I took a deep breath, drinking in that intense yet fleeting scent.
My eyes closed softly. My breathing slowed, my thin lips sealed, and my face adopted the peaceful expression of a sleeper. A handsome face_not extravagant, but harmonious. The face of a young man in his twenties, with pleasant features still marked by youth and promise.
His body, lying along the gentle slope of the hill, looked firm and toned, yet retained that fragile youthfulness one loses far too quickly. He seemed to dream-perhaps of the rounded vineyards of Burgundy, his homeland and its flavors.
The surroundings were devoid of human activity. Far from noise, far from engines, far from voices. Only a few birds sang, scattering their notes at irregular intervals, guided by the discreet rhythm of the breeze.
At the foot of the hill, a river slipped between stones. Its current was weak, as if afraid of disturbing the serenity of the scene. The water shimmered, reflecting the light in fragmented flashes, as if trying to rival the sky without ever daring to challenge it.
On the far side of the river stretched a dense, living, deep forest. Sunbeams pierced it like thin golden lances, revealing a sanctuary of moss and silence. The trees rose like ancient vegetal cathedrals, each holding its own story, its scars, its years engraved in wood.
Poppies, roses, and a few wild lilies splashed vivid colors across the ground, cohabiting without hierarchy or quarrel, as if some tacit pact had been signed between species that, elsewhere, would never grow side by side.
A discreet rustling sounded from the forest.
Rustling. Then again.
A doe finally emerged from the shadows. She moved with measured steps, attentive to every twig that yielded under her slender weight. Her brown coat blended with the forest gloom, but her wide black eyes absorbed the summer light.
She approached the river, lowered her muzzle, and drank, the water sliding along her throat with calm and grace.
The world seemed to hold its breath so as not to disturb her.
Only the wind dared move, only the sun continued bathing the hill in warmth, only the young man slept peacefully, unaware of the silent symphony around him.
The moment felt eternal. Was this what our ancestors had felt?
Despite my torpor, I could not stop thinking. Studies, then work. Marriage, then children. Is that truly the life I want? Does man truly yearn for peace-for routine?
Like any twenty-year-old, my thoughts collided, searching for the meaning of life and of my existence.
I put my arms behind my head, finding the position surprisingly comfortable, then moistened my lips.
I did not really know what I wanted. The idea of a loving home and a decent job was appealing, of course. Yet I could not help feeling detached from that future. Perhaps I was influenced by the surreal scenery- who knows.
My eyes opened slowly. A faint buzzing had joined the birdsong.
"Solitude makes me a philosopher today," I muttered with a small, self-mocking laugh.
I have neither parents nor friends, just myself and my thoughts. I had long grown accustomed to this solitude, even adapting to it.
I snapped out of my torpor by slapping my cheeks twice and slowly sitting up.
My gaze left the sky, moved toward the river, and settled on the doe drinking.
I always liked escaping the city noise by coming here- a small meadow roughly two hours from Paris.
The buzzing grew louder, abandoning the birdsong and forcing itself upon my attention.
It seemed to come from everywhere at once, like the tinnitus you get the morning after a night that was a bit too loud.
My thin eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
Then-
The sky darkened, shifting from deep blue to absolute night, blotting out the sun.
The buzzing intensified, piercing my skull. I buried my head in my hands, trying in vain to dull the pain, but nothing worked- the pain only grew stronger.
"Arghhh-" a groan escaped my mouth. I curled on the ground, writhing in agony.
[ Computing ]
A voice rang out- inquiring, as if carrying an immutable judgment.
The birdsong stopped dead, the river froze solid.
[ Threshold reached ]
Time halted, and so did my mind. The pain vanished as if it had never existed.
[ Calibration required ]
My heart raced, pumping blood at a frantic pace.
[ Calibration in progress
–14%
–35%
–69%
–100%
Calibration complete ]
A blot appeared in the sky. Small at first, then swelling rapidly until it swallowed the entire sky.
A crack tore open across the blot, spilling grayish mist onto Earth.
[ System operational ]
The voice ceased, and silence took its place- heavy and absolute.
Then,
A deep, raspy voice echoed in my ears.
[ Good luck, humanity ]