Apocalypse Forecast

Silence.

Long silence.

Under the glaring lights, the spine of the outer hall was like it had been snapped.

Bit by bit, it bent down.

After a long while, the sound of wailing responded.

Thus, the Wood Cottage nodded happily, waved to the rear. A black-market doctor, who had been waiting a while, clicked his tongue in annoyance and turned to leave.

A wasted trip, bad luck!

Only when the hand finally left his head did the outer hall finally catch its breath.

It was like being plunged into the deep sea, enduring a long suffocation.

Greedily breathing every bit of air, tears and snot uncontrollably streamed down.

Wailing loudly.

"Good, good child."

The Wood Cottage reached out to untie his restraints, squatted in front of him, smiled and took his hand, giving it a squeeze: "From today onwards, let’s be best friends."

"Mm." The outer hall nodded blankly, like a walking corpse.

The Wood Cottage nodded, took out a phone and handed it to him: "Remember to tell your friends not to hijack trucks anymore—although the stolen medication has been retrieved by us—the portion hidden away should be returned to me quickly. There’s sixteen kinds of special medication for different Beastified Characteristic Beings, taking them randomly can be lethal.

Of course, it’s also necessary to persuade them to turn themselves in and disclose the source of information and instigators."

"Mm."

The outer hall nodded numbly.

"Finally, from today onwards, learn to watch the news... hurry up and change your Yingzhou People’s damn behavior."

The Wood Cottage tilted its head, removed the cigarette from its mouth, flicked to extinguish it, and said disdainfully: "This stuff was distributed for free yesterday in Tanbo, you can register for two treatments for free! Without registration, a box costs five thousand Yingzhou currency, it’s damn near cheaper than cold medicine! You calculate for yourself how much that exploded train of yours can be exchanged for..."

Silence.

Long, long silence.

The outer hall laboriously raised its head, dumbfounded, unable to comprehend the words it heard.

"Huh?"

.

.

"Name?"

The staff behind the window raised their head.

"Tateishi."

The embarrassed middle-aged man sat on the chair, clutching his crumpled border passport: "Tateishi Shinya, thirty-one years old, this, this is my daughter, Tateishi Youzi..."

He pulled the dazed girl next to him over, shook her shoulder. The girl, who seemed to have been dozing off, quickly lifted her eyes, like a rehearsed act, nervously smiled towards the window.

"She’s healthy, very healthy, very capable." Tateishi nervously explained: "Don’t be fooled by her small stature, she’s already seventeen, she can do more work than some adults, she can do laundry and cook, really, she, she..."

Under the scrutinizing gaze of the staff, the middle-aged man’s demeanor gradually slumped, incoherently said: "Please, she can really do work... she’s capable... I can too, I can do more, I can do anything."

"Hey, hurry up, will you!"

People behind urged, and the sound of children crying echoed.

Tateishi’s lips quivered, unable to speak, his face gradually paling.

In the noisy office hall, the long queue already extended from the hall to the plaza, countless dusty people queued outside, preferring to bake under the sun, dare not go to the free drinking water station with its air conditioning within reach.

Afraid to delay a moment.

Behind the window, the scrutiny from the staff lasted for a while, then a calm voice came over the speaker.

"Mr. Tateishi, I see you wrote on your form that you have experience in musical performance, trumpet player?"

"...Yes, yes!" Tateishi broke into a smile, nodding hurriedly: "Although I haven’t practiced for many years, I can pick it up again, I’ll be quick!"

"In that case, you can later fill out a form for artistic practitioner declaration after registration, take the Tanbo Music Hall special recruitment route, go to the B2 window to register. They are short-handed recently, the salary is much higher."

The staff calmly took a photograph, stamped the form, handed it over, finally reminded: "Every household has residential eligibility including direct relatives like spouse, children and parents; I suggest you tell the truth at the next window."

Her gaze returned from the confused girl, informed the applicant: "Tanbo doesn’t need a girl under twelve to do laundry."

Everything that happened next felt like a dream.

But it was different from those nightmares.

As smooth as the absurd fantasies conceived on trains.

Tateishi blankly held his daughter’s hand, clutching a thick stack of forms, shuffled between various windows, eventually arriving in front of the temporary medical room.

Standing in front of the counter, swallowed nervously.

"This... this is my residency proof..." he asked anxiously: "Injection... injection is done here, right? The special medication, the free one, it’s real, isn’t it?"

"One adult, one young girl."

The busy nurse disregarded his emotions, snatched the test slip from his hands, flipped through it, stamped again, efficiently handed over two slips: "Turn right inside, queue up. Next."

Pushed by people behind, yet gathered courage to ask again: "Is it truly free?"

"It’s not free, sir."

The nurse, surprised, raised her head to look at him.

She said: "There’s a self-pay injection fee of two hundred yen per person, please go inside and queue to pay. Next..."

Jostled, urged, scolded.

Tateishi drifted like floating debris, going with the flow, dazedly gazing at everything before him, but had no response, eventually being shoved into the injection room, still like sleepwalking.

Mind elsewhere.

Blankly watching everything before him.

Even when being injected, there was no real sensation, just a slight pain, like the everyday pains in life.

"...Adults please ensure adequate nutrition within a week. If minors exhibit cold symptoms, please go to the nearest designated hospital for a special window."

Beside him, the nurse giving advice noticed his dazed expression and frowned: "Sir, sir, are you listening?"

But Tateishi still stared blankly at his daughter in the injection room, pressing against the glass, afraid to let her out of his sight.

"She seems better than before, see, much more spirited..."

He mumbled to himself, not knowing to whom he was speaking, unable to stop from breaking into a smile: "She looks not as tired, doesn’t she? Much better than before..."

"The injection just took place; it hasn’t taken effect yet, sir," the nurse reminded.

But Tateishi still foolishly gazed at his daughter, unblinking. After a long while, he softly replied, "But, she will get better, right?"

The nurse paused, and slowly nodded.

"...Yes, she’ll get better."

She smiled, answering this way: "She’ll be better than before, Mr. Tateishi."

The buzzing of a call came through, and she placed the notice with printed precautions into the hands of the middle-aged man, then turned and left.

Under the gentle sunlight outside the window, the thin piece of paper fluttered slightly in the wind, as if the writing on it spread its wings, flying into the azure sky.

There was a hallucination-like faint light, falling like rain from the sky, illuminating that final part.

It was not printed in bold font, but rather like someone’s hastily scribbled blessing for travelers arriving from afar before they left.

Informing everyone who comes here.

—Welcome to Tanbo.

.

"Name?"

Outside the emergency room, the chief surgeon held a medical record, following the emergency team and verifying patient information with the patient’s family, but his steps paused before entering the operating room. He solemnly reminded, "The patient is getting on in years, with sudden organ failure. A surgery of this scale is risky. Please be prepared."

"Please, please," the haggard man repeatedly bowed, begging expectantly: "Please."

"I... will do my best."

The doctor shifted his gaze, no longer looking at his expectant face.

Six hours later, the emergency patient Nakamura Hiromi survived the surgery, but in the ward, she stopped breathing. Cause of death: postoperative myocardial infarction, at the age of 54.

Two minutes later, cries of a baby came from another operating room. It was a natural birth, both mother and daughter were safe.

"Have you decided on a name?"

In the ward, the nurse reminded with emphasis, "This is important, oh, don’t give the child a weird name. Mrs. Matsuda insisted on a very long one before, seemed like it was some band album, couldn’t be persuaded, really made people anxious."

The pale wife leaned on the bed, holding her husband’s hand, gazing at the sleeping baby, and could not help but smile.

"Future."

She thought for a moment, and said seriously, "Her name is Future."

Thus, in the darkness, Huai Shi heard that name.

He couldn’t help but laugh.

Applauding it.

Future.

.

"Name?"

At the checkpoint, the nervous teenage girl responded in clumsy Yingzhou language: "Kim Soo Hyun."

"Name?"

At the interview, the young man gathered courage to raise his head: "Kobayashi Shizu."

"Name?"

On the street, the busking musician handed over their identification: "Chen Cheng."

"Name?"

The super trendy girl stuck out her tongue, "Oba Nozomi..."

In the darkness, Huai Shi raised his head, hearing those voices emerging endlessly from afar, like countless tiny specks of light, dancing before his eyes, illuminating the long and lonely road.

More voices were arising.

More prayers, more thanks, more calls.

Guiding him, little by little, forward.

Until he opened his eyes from drowsiness, countless shattered souls reassembled, following that guidance, watching countless lights passing by his eyes.

Unconsciously, the darkness had already been lit by that endless glow.

The lonely long road was already filled with travelers.

Amidst the lively crowd, the noise rose incessantly.

When passing by, those unfamiliar souls smiled at him gratefully, told him their names, and then rejoined the sea of people.

One name after another overlapped, lifting his soul, guiding him upwards, returning from this cold and empty universe.

He stood on the brightly lit street, in a deserted alley, listening to cries in a ward, gazing at the sleeping face of a child under warm lights.

When Huai Shi lifted his head, he saw the vast rain of light falling from the night sky, landing in invisible hands, each ray of light carrying the smile of a friend.

As if finally waking from a long dream since that farewell.

"It’s wonderful to meet again, my friend."

Huai Shi gazed at the vast rain of light, and smiled.

After a long pause, he bowed and bid farewell, turning to walk into a deeper dream.