The world wasn't really ending— only that particular one. The explosion wasn't set to happen in another thirty minutes, either. It was set to happen in five.

Zaneth knew that because she had set off the bomb in the heart of the planet. Had been granted the eyes that allowed her entry. Had let herself through countless doors with countless codes she'd been given so long ago and saved to her system's memory. Leaned into the panel beside the final door and stood obediently still as it scanned her eye. 

It took three seconds.

One look and three seconds that marked the beginning of utter destruction and pain. 

From there it was simple; just the singular press of a button. In and out. It was as loud as she had expected. Too much screaming and crying as if there was any point to that. Tears couldn't freeze time nor could they rewind. They couldn't bring back the things that'd been lost.

Zaneth could never understand why the humans cried. Going about her everyday tasks, she'd heard all of humanity's complaints. Memorized them well enough that she could probably document them all in a massive journal and still run out of paper. Most humans hated life— hated the little things as well as the big. Yet, when death came knocking at their door at their own invitation, they pushed it away.

They cried.

Zaneth couldn't see why death was considered anything more than an endless break. 

A lifetime of rest.

The ship would fill up soon. Zaneth didn't have to worry about that. If it came down to it, they would throw a passenger off if she needed the limited room. She was too valuable to be left behind to blow to smithereens. Both in a monetary sense and in a one-of-a-kind sense. There was only one Zaneth— an experimental model gone accidentally right.

Her creator had died long ago. No one could make another model like her, and Zaneth took great advantage of that.

Hidden beneath a shadow cast by the bend of the massive building she leaned against, she pulled the skin from her face slowly so as not to rip it. It would need to be preserved. She folded it away in the bag thrown over her shoulder and turned to face her own reflection in its glass. She pulled out another mask and molded it to her metal features as carefully as she had the time to afford.

Time was ticking quietly in the back of her mind. 

Three minutes and forty-two seconds. Really, she had less time than even that, considering the ship would need to take off at least thirty seconds before the explosion went off. That was assuming everything went perfectly well. 

This skin was uglier than the other. Scarred and uneven against the caress of her fingertips. It was the kind of face that made people want to stay away. The kind of face that made most feel as if they had no choice. It would suit her purposes fine; she didn't want to be approached by anyone on the way to the ship nor in its grand confines. She wanted to be alone.

She always wanted to be alone after missions like that— however long it took to shake the screams of centuries of humanity from her skin. 

The second she finished her alterations, she took off in the direction she had come faster than most could ever dream. There were so many fires, enough so that she was forced to walk through two or three, but she came away without singe. Obstacles lined the roads in the form of crashed vehicles and dead bodies— some with broken spines, some with jagged stab wounds, and some with bullet holes. 

It was a familiar scene. Nothing new and nothing in particular to gawk at. The familiarity made getting through it easier— her system remembered the heinous layout before her.

One minute and twelve seconds.

The ship was glaring in the distance. Hovering high above an imposing building. 

Zaneth wasn't going to make it in time.

Still, she ran. It wasn't as if she had any better options. It wasn't as if she were going to cry.

A horde of people crowded and pushed against the building's main entrance, screaming and crying and reciting each and every reason why their life mattered more than anyone else's. The rough translations of their words rang in her ears.

"I have children!" a woman cried, even though it looked as if she were alone.

"I'm young!" a man shouted angrily. "I have too much to look forward to; you all will be lucky to make it another two years!"

"I'm scared," an older woman said, voice too shaky and soft to be heard easily above the chaos. Zaneth heard it as if the words had been spoken directly into her ears. "Please, I'm so scared..."

This was an obstacle Zaneth wasn't prepared to deal with. She couldn't push through the crowd nor could she forcibly remove them. She wasn't cruel. Not without an order, anyway.

Fifty-three seconds.

"Zaneth," a voice crackled in her head. It made her wince, pausing where she stood. "Where are you? You're running out of time!"

"I'm blocked out of the front entrance," Zaneth responded, pressing a finger against a little button behind her left ear. "You may be forced to take off without me."

"Hell no," the voice responded. "Raise your hand. We'll swoop down to come get you."

Forty seconds.

"Okay," Zaneth said, letting her eyes slide shut and doing as instructed. This wasn't supposed to feel as simple as it did. She was certain of that. At one point, she might have vehemently refused to reach out. This was her own failure to sit with and no one else's.

Now, as she ripped the population's one and only savior away from them, she couldn't really care. Couldn't hurt no matter how much she knew she was supposed to.

Her hand twitched in the air, her fingers curling into her palm. A half withdrawal.

There was a blast of air above her as if to blow her away. Ironic, it was. Even more ironic was hearing the screams travel closer, opening her eyes to see what had once been a pushing crowd turn to a stampede as it switched directions. People mowed down one another without hesitation, and Zaneth could only imagine the feel of splitting bones and cracked skulls against unforgiving concrete.

The ship lowered just enough for Zaneth to barely be able to peek into the open entrance. A woman— her boss— offered her hand. She could make a grab for it if she made an impressive leap. One that no ordinary human would ever be able to manage.

"Hurry!" Peke yelled, extending her fingers out further as if it'd make a bit of difference. "Clock is ticking, Zaneth!"

Twenty-four seconds.

Zaneth made the leap just as someone grabbed onto her ankle as a final grasp at survival. Peke's grip was strong, but the stranger's was weak. Their fingers slipped as Zaneth was hauled into the ship.

It sped away before the door could even shut. 

Zaneth saw the despair play out upon the people's faces until she didn't. 

As the explosion sounded and the ship shook with enough force to rival the occasional quakes that overwhelmed planets, alarms shrieking to alert of a possible crash, Zaneth sat cradled in Peke's arms in a hold so tight, she couldn't be certain whether it was for Peke or herself. 

The heat was unbearable for perhaps a second, and then it was gone. Then, there was only the chill it'd left behind. 

She took in the shooting debris, the shocking blue that seemed to glow from what used to be, and marveled at how familiar it all looked. In the end, they all looked the same. Peke held on tightly to the edge of a control panel with her free hand, holding her breath as passengers screamed around them.

How funny, that was. How incredibly ironic it was to hear the sheer panic surrounding her when the people that'd remained on the planet— the people that'd been engulfed by that horrid explosion— had been so silent, in the end. Devoid of whatever brief hope that’d taken hold of their hearts. Accepting.

It wasn't as if they'd had the chance to be anything else. The choice to fight the inevitable doom that'd forsaken them had never truly existed. It'd been nothing but a clever illusion.

As soon as they were given the chance, the door was slid shut. The ship stopped shaking and the alarms stopped screeching. The screams quieted to whimpers. 

Silence, at one point. 

Peke broke it with a sigh and gave her a clap on the back.

"Good girl," he said. "Just be a little quicker next time, yeah?"