The world was shocked by the sudden destruction of the largest generator in the osmium production facility. This event took place only a few minutes ago. The news spread quickly throughout the globe, reaching every corner of the planet. Within seconds, millions of people had seen images and videos recorded during the incident. In the blink of an eye, the whole world had gone crazy.
News channels scrambled to find explanations for what happened. Analysts speculated on the causes of such a violent chain reaction. Meanwhile, scientists around the world tried desperately to understand what had really occurred.
Tensions between Osmium and other countries increased rapidly. Rumors abounded. Everyone wanted to know the truth, yet nobody dared speak openly. No matter how many facts came out, rumors would continue spreading until everything was finally resolved once and for all.
But even after the dust settled, the world remained in turmoil. People continued to fear new attacks. Many governments imposed strict security measures, as if hoping to prevent another attack before they could learn whether one actually existed or just paranoia born entirely too late...
Meanwhile, Arman sat alone in his room, staring at the ceiling. His mind raced with questions. What exactly happened? Who caused it? Why did the generator explode when nobody was near it? Was anyone else involved in causing the disaster?
After sitting quietly for hours, he finally got up and went downstairs. Outside, the sun was shining brightly. Birds chirped happily in the trees. Everything seemed peaceful, except for the fact that he couldn't help worrying about the future.
Suddenly, someone knocked on his door. He opened it without thinking. When he saw who it was, he froze in surprise. Standing there wearing a black suit and tie and holding two cups of coffee was a man whose face Arman didn't recognize.
"Hello, Mr. Arma..." The stranger hesitated, trying to remember Arman's name.
Arman nodded. "Who are you?"
"Well, my name is Richard Tukhachevsky. I've been sent here by the Prime Minister himself. You don't need to be afraid; we're just informing you about the situation."
Richard smiled nervously. "You see, I work for a secret government organization called 'The Company.' We handle things like this. Now, let me introduce myself properly. I'm the Director of Special Operations for the Ministry of Defense."
Arman stared at the man blankly. Then he asked, "Are you telling me that some group of terrorists has attacked us?"
"Not quite," said Tukhachevsky. "It seems that somebody planted explosives inside the generator, triggering an explosive chain reaction. Our investigation shows that this wasn't done by any terrorist organization. Whoever set those bombs was extremely well prepared and very careful. They probably intended to destroy the entire factory complex instead of merely damaging part of it."
He paused briefly and added, "Now, please forgive my bluntness, but I think it's important for you to understand the gravity of the situation. If our intelligence reports prove true, then your life is now in danger. Your safety depends on where you decide to go next."
Before Tukhachevsky finished speaking, Arman cut him short. "So why am I being told all this?"
"Because the prime minister wants you to leave town immediately. There have already been several attempts made against you. It appears that whoever planned the bombing doesn't want you dead, but they do intend to get rid of you nonetheless. That means your chances aren't good either way, so leaving the city should make sense to everyone. Please consider yourself officially relocated."
Tukhachevsky handed over the coffee and left without saying goodbye. Arman stood outside his house for a while longer, drinking hot coffee and staring into space. Finally, he put down the cup and walked back upstairs. After showering, he changed clothes again: blue jeans and a white shirt. A pair of leather boots completed his outfit. With no more time to waste, he grabbed his jacket from the closet, stuffed his belongings inside, and headed towards the front door.
When he stepped out onto the porch, he noticed something unusual in the sky above. In the distance, a huge fireball streaked through the air. Its light illuminated clouds in reds and golds. Smoke billowed high into the atmosphere, filling the horizon.
A moment later, the sound of an explosion echoed across the land.
***
In the center of a wide circle, a massive crater appeared in the ground. The area surrounding the pit was charred black. Debris lay scattered around the hole.
but nothing larger than a pebble. Even though the damage looked extensive, not a single person died during the incident.
Several witnesses described hearing an enormous boom, followed by smoke rising in all directions. But the noise faded quickly, leaving only faint echoes lingering in the wind. Nobody knew what the blast was until one witness spotted the tiny object falling toward the earth. By the time people realized it was a meteorite, its descent had slowed dramatically and turned into a graceful glide. Before long, it landed gently on the edge of the crater, sending up plumes of dust as if landing softly were an everyday occurrence.
No matter how hard anyone tried, nobody could find anything missing or damaged anywhere near the site.
"Well, it looks like the problem's solved," Arman sighed.
After receiving confirmation that his job would be transferred elsewhere within the country, he decided to spend some extra days with family before heading off on new adventures. His father came along too; after their last discussion regarding marriage (which ended disastrously), things between dad and mom became much better. So when Arman returned home, everything felt right once more.
That night, Arman sat alone on a balcony overlooking the city lights. He sipped a glass of wine and watched the stars twinkle overhead. At first, he thought about the attack, then about the moon. How many times did I look up at that same spot? but something strange about the moon kept bothering him. Why does the moon seem so close tonight?
His eyes focused on the familiar crescent shape. Something seemed different. The color was wrong somehow, making it appear almost transparent. And there didn't seem to be enough craters visible—almost none, really. Where are all the scars and the mountains of ice and rock?
Suddenly, he remembered seeing the moon just recently. It had been full, glowing brightly in the sky. On top of that, it was unusually large compared to other nights. What has happened here since then?
As Arman continued to stare upward, he saw another thing. Another fireball lit up the darkening skies, coming from somewhere entirely different. This one was bigger than the others and moved faster. Like the previous ones, it disappeared behind the horizon soon after appearing.
***
The following day, Arman visited a nearby park where he often went running. As usual, he ran past the lake and stopped by a bench on the bank. From there, he gazed at the water's surface, watching waves ripple across the placid expanse.
I've always loved these peaceful moments, especially early in the morning or late in the afternoon when most people were asleep. During those hours, even the birds took naps. Only the sun remained awake, shining bright and strong over the entire world.
Arman glanced around. No one else was present. The breeze blew lightly across his face, carrying the scent of flowers.
He stared at the calm waters, trying to imagine how the scene might change tomorrow. Would someone come by and throw trash in the pond? Or maybe take a swim?
What is this place called, anyway? The lake, that's what. Lake Tula, isn't it? Is that why they call me "the man who lives on the shore?"
At least my name has meaning now. It's nice to be able to say something meaningful instead of repeating meaningless words.
It occurred to Arman that he hadn't heard any news lately. I hadn't seen anybody either, except for a few guards patrolling the streets. Maybe everyone was hiding inside because of the recent events?
Maybe I should do the same.
But he couldn't stay holed up forever. There was work waiting for him back in the office, plus his parents needed help with household chores.
With no plans made, Arman packed his bags and prepared to leave town. After taking care of business, he said goodbye to friends and family members, promising to return someday soon. With a final wave, he walked away down the street.
Before long, however, Arman noticed several figures approaching out of the darkness. They wore hoods, concealing their faces, and carried weapons under their cloaks. A group of five men approached slowly while keeping a distance. One of them stepped forward.
"We will depart today."
They stopped walking and waited patiently as Arman spoke. "Well, you have helped make life easier here."
One of the cloaked figures raised his head slightly.
"You know, I can never thank you enough." Arman added quietly.
A nod was all he got.
***
