The Earth was vast.
So vast that no single human life could ever grasp it whole.
It held oceans that never rested and land that carried the weight of countless generations. Cities pulsed with light, villages slept beneath quiet stars, and forests stretched without knowing they were being watched. Humanity lived scattered across this enormous sphere, each person convinced their moment was ordinary.
Some were growing old.
Some were learning to speak.
Some were being born.
In a hospital room, a newborn took its first breath, unaware that the world it had entered was about to disappear. In a crowded street, a man paused mid-step. In a classroom, a student looked up from their book.
And then something appeared.
A translucent window floated before every human being.
It did not flash or announce itself. It simply existed, calm and silent, hovering in the center of each person's vision. No matter where they looked, it remained—unshakable, unquestionable.
Written in simple text were only a few words.
SYSTEM NOTICE
'All humans transporting'
For a moment, nothing happened.
People stared.
Brows furrowed. Heads tilted. Some laughed quietly, assuming it was a prank, a hallucination, a glitch in their eyes or minds. Others rubbed their faces, blinked hard, or looked around to see if anyone else could see it too.
"What is that?"
"Do you see this?"
"Is this some kind of ad?"
Phones were raised. Screens showed nothing. The window existed only for the living human eye.
Confusion spread.
Doctors continued working. Drivers kept driving. Conversations resumed, though slower, distracted. The words meant nothing yet. They were too sudden, too vague, too unreal to inspire panic.Babies, of course, noticed nothing at all.
After a few seconds, the window faded gently, as if it had never been there.
Life continued.
For exactly one breath.
The world shifted.
There was no sensation of falling, no tearing pain, no flash of light. One instant, a person stood on concrete, tile, soil, or steel, and the next, their feet touched something soft and warm.
Grass.
Humanity had been placed upon a vast, endless plain of green.
The land stretched in every direction, flat and uninterrupted, the grass swaying slowly despite the absence of wind. The sky above was unfamiliar, wider, deeper, colored in hues no Earthly sunset had ever held. The air was clean, almost unnaturally so.
Silence hung heavy.
People looked down.
Looked up.
Looked around.
Hospitals were gone.
Cities were gone.
Walls, roads, ceilings—gone.
Only humans remained.
That was when panic arrived.
Shouts erupted across the plain, rippling outward like cracks in glass. People ran without direction, searching for landmarks that did not exist. Names were screamed into the open air. Some collapsed to their knees, clutching the grass as if it might anchor them back to reality.
Children cried.
Babies wailed, hundreds of thousands of them—suddenly exposed to open sky, strange light, and unfamiliar air. Parents clutched them tightly, fear finally sinking in as the truth became undeniable.
They were no longer on Earth.
A teacher grabbed her student's shoulders, demanding answers she did not have. A pilot stared at his hands, whispering that this had to be a dream. A soldier instinctively scanned the horizon and found nothing to aim at.
The confusion shattered into terror.
Above the endless green land, unseen yet absolute, something observed.
The system had not lied.
All humans had been transported.
And now, standing together on a foreign world, humanity understood what those words truly meant.