Chapter 544 - 373: The Story of Fate (1)
Looking down from the balcony, it was a beautiful city, except for the high-rise hotel where Malin was standing; all around were various villas and small buildings.
Perhaps in normal times, there would be pedestrians running for fitness on the streets, mothers pushing strollers, and people of all stripes giving the city a flavor of the living, rather than the current situation with zombies shouldering their way through the crowd. Looking at the swarm of undead below, Malin helplessly shook his head—this was the era when the Great Destruction had occurred.
This city, Malin didn’t know where it was now, but it had indeed existed back then.
With that thought, Malin finished eating and then returned to his room, letting Ansa start flipping through TV channels—this should be the most intuitive way to understand the current situation.
The first channel was a fitness channel, which seemed to be playing pre-recorded programs—after all, the transparent background of the screen was a world of ice and snow, a burly man with a six-pack leading a group of equally sturdy men in stretching exercises.
With only a naturally formed six-pack, Malin unhappily decided to change the channel.
The second channel was labeled "news," and the female in the studio was broadcasting an explanation about the loss of control of the biohumans. Malin confirmed that this was also pre-recorded, because while she was speaking, Malin saw that the star ring visible through the transparent background glass was still neatly intact.
Yet just before, on the balcony, Malin had seen that large sections of the star ring had already been lost, and he didn’t know where those pieces had fallen, but presumably, most of it burned up upon re-entry into the atmosphere; otherwise, this world would be uninhabitable—such massive mass crashing down would kick up so much ash that the entire world would be without sunlight for a while.
Thinking thus, Malin once again looked toward the balcony, where sunlight streamed in, passing through the glass door, bringing an inexplicable warmth to the room.
The third channel showed only one message—"Broadcast suspended."
Chopin’s nocturne was playing, though Malin couldn’t tell which one, he simply sat on the sofa and took the tablet, which the mechanical waiter had handed over.