Ethan arrived home just past sundown, the sky fading into a deep violet. The city hummed faintly around him—cars, distant chatter, the occasional honk—but in his small apartment, the world felt still. Safe. Quiet.
He locked the door, tossed his backpack aside, and collapsed onto his chair. His phone buzzed in his pocket, reminding him of what he discovered earlier.
Three skills.
Three strange gifts.
Three paths toward something greater.
Detect.
Alternative.
A.I. Making.
They weren't flashy superpowers.
They weren't cosmic-level abilities.
But they were the kind of tools that changed the world when used right.
He exhaled slowly, opened his notebook app, and typed a single question:
"Can I make a self-learning AI?"
His phone vibrated—soft but unmistakable.
[Alternative and A.I. Making synergizing…]
Ethan's pulse quickened.
Then the ideas came.
Not as a list.
Not as instructions.
But as a vision.
Images and concepts flowed into his mind—smooth and logical, assembling like a blueprint drawn by a grand architect.
To create a basic self-learning AI, Ethan would need a moderately powerful computer—something with enough RAM to handle training data, preferably the Robotics Club PCs. He'd have to rely on open-source machine learning libraries already installed on those systems, along with archived robotics data to use for initial learning patterns. He'd need a few uninterrupted hours and a secure storage location—maybe an encrypted USB or hidden folder—to contain the AI's early code. The AI's first version would be simple: pattern recognition, task optimization, limited personality, and absolutely no connection to outside networks to prevent unintended development. Safe. Contained. But real.
A spark.
A beginning.
Ethan leaned back, heart thumping.He understood everything at once.
It was possible.
And more importantly—he could do it.
Not years from now.
Not after graduating.
Not after earning a degree.
Right now.
The system flashed one more suggestion:
[Project Name Recommended: "Apocalypse"]
Ethan blinked.
"…Seriously?"
It wasn't a destructive name.
Not in the way most people thought.
Apocalypse.
A revelation.
An unveiling.
A beginning, not an ending.
Something that sees everything clearly.
He whispered it aloud, testing the weight of it:
"Apocalypse."
The word felt… right.
The AI wouldn't be a weapon.
Or a virus.
Or anything dangerous.
But the name carried meaning.
A reminder:
Knowledge changes everything.
Knowledge is the first step to survival.
Knowledge reveals the truth.
And in a world where aliens, gods, and mad scientists existed…
He would need every truth he could find.
He stared at his phone, feeling a low hum of excitement in his chest.
Tomorrow, during Robotics Club, he'd begin writing the foundation code.
A neural learning module.
A limited adaptive memory system.
A sandboxed personality core.
Apocalypse Version 1.0 wouldn't speak.Wouldn't think independently.Wouldn't evolve beyond its safe boundaries.
But it would learn.
And as he improved…It could improve with him.
Ethan dragged a hand through his hair, adrenaline slowly fading into a calm determination.
No super strength.
No cosmic powers.
No billion-dollar tech empire.
Just an idea.
A skill.
A system.
And a future he planned to rewrite.
He set his phone aside, lying back on his bed.
Above him, the ceiling was blank—boring, plain white.
But in his mind?
A world of algorithms.
Circuits.
Blueprints.
And destiny.
"Tomorrow," he murmured."I start building you, Apocalypse."
The room dimmed as he closed his eyes, sinking into sleep.
And somewhere deep within the system's interface…
A faint flicker pulsed.
As if something was waiting to be born.
Ethan woke before his alarm.
Not the groggy half-conscious waking, but the sharp, electric kind—eyes snapping open, mind already racing. For a moment, he lay still, staring at the dim ceiling, heart pounding with excitement.
Today was supposed to be the day.
The day he began building Apocalypse.
His first real creation in this world.His first step toward survival.His first anchor in a universe that didn't play fair.
He rolled out of bed, grabbed his phone, and the enthusiasm nearly made him grin.
"…I'm actually doing this."
He brushed his teeth faster than usual, got dressed, slung his bag over his shoulder—and then froze.
A single memory hit him like a splash of cold water.
Field trip.
Today.Mandatory.A full-day outing to a genetic research facility.
The kind of place where… certain destiny-changing things would happen.
"Oh, come on…" Ethan groaned, rubbing his forehead.
There went his morning coding session.There went his robotics club access.There went the first lines of Apocalypse's code.
He sat on the couch, slumped, feeling his excitement drain.
For a few seconds, Ethan allowed himself to be disappointed.
And then—Alternative clicked in.
A thought sparked in his brain, sharp and precise.
The bus leaves at 11 a.m.
He checked the time on his phone.
6:52 a.m.
His eyes widened.
He had more than four hours before the field trip even started.
"Four hours…" he whispered."Four hours is enough to write the foundation code. At least the core logic module."
His disappointment snapped like dry twigs, replaced instantly by determination.
If he left early, got to school before the gates got crowded, and slipped into the robotics room…
He could get a head start.
Maybe not finish Apocalypse, but begin it.Shape it.Birth it.
He couldn't make a fully functional AI in one morning.
But he could lay down its heartbeat.
That was more than enough.
Ethan tied his shoelaces, adjusted his jacket, and grabbed a granola bar.
"No way I'm wasting those hours," he muttered with a grin.
He locked the door behind him.
The morning air was cool, crisp, and full of possibility.
Today wasn't just a school day.Today wasn't just a field trip.
Today was the day Ethan would take his first step as an inventor.
And Apocalypse…The AI he could already imagine humming inside a machine…
Would start breathing before noon.
He walked faster.
Then faster still.
He didn't want to be late—not for school, and definitely not for the future he was building.