8

He’d already been on the transport when the first of the beams split the sky like a brilliant bolt of lightning. The interior of the cabin was awash in a flash of blue-green light, and he’d instinctively turned to the window to get a better look, they all had. These were the early days before the Drees protocols. When blue and green were just colors.

 So, he’d watched as the beam turned the lake to steam and the park lands to ash. He’d seen the glass of the looming skyscrapers turn to molten streams that rained onto the streets below. He saw the people look up and scatter, as the ground batteries opened up in a series of concussive blasts. The seconds before his left eye bubbled and ran down his cheek felt like an eternity. The engines screamed and fought to claw their way through an atmosphere that was boiling away.

 It was just before sunrise on his fifteenth birthday.