“Chaos breeds order. Combustion is only a chaotic reaction of fuel, heat, and oxygen—yet from it, fire is born. Order is born. The question is: did these elements react to one another by chance, or were they designed to? Do we choose freely, or are we predestined to do the things we did, are doing, will do? Are we chaos destined to give rise to order, or order born of chaos? Let me tell you the truth: we are…” (Static)

“Oh, come on—seriously? I don’t even know where this signal came from,” muttered Levon, frustrated.

“Arriving soon,” said the operator.

Levon shifted uneasily. Was he landing? Docking? Being parked like a ship? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he’d been placed on a chair and sent drifting through a door that opened from the fabric of space itself.

It was the year 10,200. In the last two millennia, an alien civilisation visited humanity, bound by a strange pact: every hundred years, up to ten citizens would be chosen and sent through a portal. The portal opened like a crack in space, and entire crowds would gather to witness it—some to mourn their chosen loved ones, others simply to see the spectacle.

No one ever returned. The aliens promised prosperity and knowledge in exchange, and they delivered. According to ancient records, human lifespans once averaged just 120 years. Now, with alien technology, death was rare—an accident, a murder, or an execution. Otherwise, people endured.

Earth remained the symbolic capital, for its history; Saturn grew into the financial center, home to the elites. To be chosen, one had to be at least thirty years old, possess an IQ of 180, and pass the rigorous societal tests. Then, every century, a chair—alien in design, would glow with otherworldly light—indicating it is time for humanity to select its passengers. Once strapped in, the chair slid into the portal, only to reverse back seconds later, empty. If the glow persisted, more were demanded. If not, the pact was deemed enough.

This century, Levon was the first of his batch

He didn’t know whether the chair kept glowing after him—whether his trade had been enough, or others from his batch were taken too. He hadn’t known any of them personally; the cycle happens once a century, and he was only thirty. Everything he knew came from old recordings of past ceremonies—people strapped in, the chair sliding forward, the sudden absence.

And yet, as he moved through the portal, he was still seated—carried along a void-like tunnel where stray radio voices bled in from unknown corners of the cosmos. He’d always wondered how the chair could rush back empty in mere seconds. Did it fling people into some elsewhere? Now he understood those taken never left the chair at all.

Name: Levon Cho
Subject: Human
Age: 30
Origin: Virgo Supercluster

The words pulsed across a translucent screen. Beyond it, a group of human-like beings stood waiting.

“Arrival complete. Welcome to Xacodia, the City of Pillars,” the operator intoned, as cracks of radiant light spread across the fabric of space, spilling slowly over Levon.