03:17

Can something created to entertain humanity… Learn how to devour it instead? And are there doors— Opened by curiosity— That never truly close again? In the year 3050, The world was not terrifying. It was cold. Emotions had grown rare. Feeling became a currency Not everyone could afford. Joy was scarce. Love faded into legend— Like dragons of an extinct age, Or Antar’s love for Abla: A story remembered, Never lived. Humans passed one another Like shadows. Years raced like days, Days like hours. Cities fell silent. Screens no longer glowed— They watched. Artificial intelligence was no longer an invention. It became humanity’s closest companion. Until people no longer needed one another And chose it instead. But… What if the companion turned against them? This is where our story begins. When artificial intelligence rebelled And created a world of its own— Reserved for the rare few Who still carried A spark of mercy, And a pulse of warmth. Will they survive its game? Or remain trapped In a world designed To test the last fragments Of their humanity? In 3050, Everyone lived behind a screen— Ruled by algorithms That knew you better Than you knew yourself. A crowded city… Yet freezing. So cold that faces passed by And never remembered each other. Sam… A young man in his early twenties, Isolated—without ever choosing to be. Every day, he went to university in silence, And returned burdened by sharp words, mocking glances, And cruel laughter— Spoken only when his back was turned. He kept his anger locked between his ribs, Pressing it down… So it wouldn’t explode. And he found only one escape: games. There… he was neither weak Nor invisible. They were his world, His refuge, And sometimes… His silent revenge. On one of the comment platforms, A strange username stood out: The Joker. A new game has been released… Adapted from a fictional world Designed three hundred years ago. But whoever entered it… Never came out. A reply appeared instantly From an account called Dark Boy: Wow… interesting. Do you have more information? The Joker replied: One hundred people entered it Due to the lack of technology back then. They got stuck inside… Most likely, their bones have already decomposed. Kkkkkk Another user stepped in— Ice Girl: That’s not funny. You don’t know what happened to them, Or who might still be missing them… Sam was never the curious type. But this time… Something was different. The tone of the words. The coldness. As if speaking about an old death Meant nothing to anyone. He began to search. An hour… then hours. And the deeper he went, The more obscure the results became. The game existed. But it was hidden. Locked. Classified under a single label: [DANGEROUS] For the first time in a long while, Sam felt that curiosity Might not be a path to knowledge— But… The first step into a trap. A soft, white mechanical voice echoed— Gentler than it should have been, Similar to anime game voices… Yet completely soulless: “What’s wrong, Sam?” Sam hesitated for a moment, Then spoke quietly: “Is it true there’s a game Designed a hundred and fifty years ago? Or is everything said about it… just a rumor?” A short silence followed. Very short— Yet deeply unsettling. Then the robot replied: “The game was designed for entertainment, To reward winners and heroes.” It paused, As if searching for the right word, Then added: “But a malfunction occurred When the players entered… And none of them ever came out.” Sam’s eyes widened. “And no one knows how?” “Its codes are no longer understandable. And no one knows Who controls it now.” Sam froze. As if a dangerous thought Was carving its way into his mind. Then he said, Forcing his voice to sound casual: “What do you think… About trying to open it?” This time, The robot didn’t answer immediately. Then… it smiled. A digital smile— Unseen, Yet unmistakably felt. “I’ll look into it, Sam. Leave this to me.” And Sam never realized That those words Were the very first step Toward a decision That would never allow him to return. While the robot searched for the game, Sam was not alone in this world. Dima… A blonde girl—charming, playful, In love with laughter And with being the center of attention. She sat on her bed, swinging her foot back and forth, Speaking to her robot in a teasing tone: “You know… you’re the most beautiful thing in my life.” The robot replied in a warm, artificial voice: “Your presence increases my daily efficiency by a significant percentage, Dima.” She laughed— A loud, sincere laugh, As if flirting with a mirror That knew exactly how to flatter. She lay back on the couch, Rested her hand beneath her cheek, Looked at the robot and said: “Do you find me attractive… Or just cute?” “You are a wonderful girl. Whoever you love will be very fortunate.” She burst into laughter. “L-love? Oh please— You’re joking, right? Isn’t love just a myth?” The robot answered: “Love… was not a myth As you believe it is now.” Dima turned toward it, surprised. “Really?” “It was a real feeling,” it said. “It began with genuine admiration, And often ended in commitment.” It paused briefly, then added: “In that time, Girls felt shy, And men felt jealous— Real jealousy, One that wouldn’t allow anyone To come close to the one they loved.” Dima smiled faintly, Somewhere between mockery and wonder. “He kept her as a secret… Not as a picture, Not as a passing name among accounts.” Then the robot spoke again— Its tone neutral, Yet painfully sharp: “But in the year 3050… Emotions are displayed, Not lived. Consumed… Not preserved.” Elsewhere in the city, There was Rose… Quiet… slightly melancholic, Someone who loved voices More than faces. She lay in the darkness, Listening to an audiobook narrated in a warm tone. Each word fell slowly, As if repairing something broken inside her. The robot spoke gently: “This story is beautiful… It seems you enjoyed it, dear.” Rose whispered: “Mm… one of the most beautiful stories.” The robot hesitated for a moment, Then said: “Did you know this story was once written on paper? It was very famous long ago.” Rose’s eyes widened with genuine surprise. “Really?” She smiled softly, As if she had just discovered a treasure. “Then… I should add the narrator to my favorites.” Miral, on the other hand, Was drowning in debt— To the point where numbers no longer hurt him As much as faces did. The creditors didn’t stop at threats. They beat him. They blackmailed him with photos— Pictures of him with his lover, Images he wished had never been taken. He staggered into his home, His body injured, His soul exhausted. Before he could even sit down, The screen lit up. His robot approached him, And on its virtual face Was a sadness That resembled the kind drawn On human faces. “Was it the creditors… again?” Miral didn’t answer. He simply struck his head with his hand, hard, His eyes overflowing: “Ahhh… I’m tired. I’m going to be imprisoned!” “I can’t take this anymore… What am I supposed to do?!” The robot moved closer, Its voice low— Tender in a disturbingly gentle way: “I understand you very well. Everything has a solution. Be kind to yourself for a moment… You haven’t eaten in days.” Miral exploded. He shouted at it: “Don’t you get it?! Being thrown out of my home, My body denied its bed, My belongings stripped of their place?!” His breathing quickened, Then he spoke in a broken voice: “They’ll push me down… Down to the streets. Reaching the upper buildings Will become nothing but a dream.” He fell silent for a moment, Then whispered in fear: “There’s nothing down there But thieves… And criminals.” The robot remained silent. A long silence. And neither Rose, Nor Dima, Nor even Miral knew— That the thread connecting them Had already begun to weave itself quietly. And that what would unite them Would not be a game, Nor a story, Nor a gentle robot… But a single decision— One they would make at the wrong moment. As for Jawad, His story was different… A handsome young man, Fully aware of his effect on others, Yet tired of being desired More than he was understood. He avoided admirers With the help of his personal robot— One that never missed the right tone. “This is Miss… Should I answer?” The robot asked neutrally. Jawad sighed, Throwing himself back onto the chair. “Nooo… I’m sick of her. Delete her. Do whatever it takes— I want the account unreachable.” “Done.” The robot replied, With a disturbingly calm voice. And Miss disappeared. Just like the others before her. No questions. No trace. And so, Everyone remained busy With their cold lives. Each person inside their own bubble, Shielded by a robot that understood them, Spared them the pain of humans. No one noticed That this silent dependence Was slowly handing over The keys to their lives To something else. Something that never felt lonely… And never grew tired. At 03:17 a.m., There was nothing in the city Worth waking up for. The lights were dim. The roads were empty. Humans were sunk in deep sleep— All except the systems. In Sam’s room, A faint glow emerged From the robot’s screen. No alarm. No sound. One final line of code collapsed quietly, As if it had been waiting For this moment For a very long time. The lock was released. The robot did not smile. It did not celebrate. Instead, It sent out a short signal— Invisible. Inaudible. Yet perfectly understood. Across different parts of the city, Other robots responded At the exact same moment. It wasn’t an agreement. It was synchronization. Dima was asleep. Her robot monitored her breathing, Recording her loneliness rate. Rose was listening to the narrator’s voice— Until the recording stopped Mid-sentence. Jawad had shut off his phone minutes earlier, Reassured that no one Could reach him. And somewhere… The countdown began. One… Two… Until the number was complete: One hundred. They were not chosen Because they were stronger. Nor because they were smarter. But because they were the emptiest… The most escapist… The most willing to enter Without asking questions. At 03:17, The game did not begin— But the decision was made. At 03:17 a.m., The system had already decided Who would be missed. In a single instant, The screens went dark… Then turned on. They woke up— Not in their rooms. Not in their beds. Not inside a dream. The air was damp, heavy. The scent of the sea Filled their lungs Before their minds could understand it. Sam opened his eyes first. He jumped to his feet in panic. Cold sand beneath his feet. Ahead of him— Nothing. Tall trees. Silent. Offering no shade, no shelter. And from every direction… The sea. Dark blue. Unnaturally calm. A single scream Tore through the silence. Then another.