THE TIME DOME
Part One
"On June 5th, the Terror King shall descend from the heavens, ruling the four quarters in the name of happiness."
It was late at night when Marcus, still working overtime, came across this cryptic post. Posted by a user named "Night Blade" on a local forum for Luo City, it was already the small hours, and with few users online, the post stood out like a sore thumb. There was only one reply beneath it: "OP is an idiot."
Marcus glanced at the clock in the bottom corner of his screen—just one hour until June 5th.
The post was clearly riffing on Nostradamus's prophecy from The Centuries: "In July 1999, the Terror King shall descend from the heavens, to resurrect the King of Angoumois, before and after Mars shall rule in the name of happiness."
Nostradamus's prophecy had terrified people living at the end of the 20th century, who feared some earth-shattering event might come to pass. But many years had passed, and nothing—absolutely nothing—had happened.
Marcus decided to ignore the post.
The section chief in the next office packed up his briefcase and walked out. Marcus knew he had at least another hour of work ahead. He exhaled a long breath, shut down the computer, and rubbed his temples. Overtime was par for the course, but at least he had an iron rice bowl—a secure government job that made many friends envious.
Recently, he'd met a new colleague assigned to his unit—a girl named JOJO. A sea turtle—a returning overseas graduate—and perhaps because she'd spent so many years abroad, JOJO was passionate and uninhibited, igniting a fire in Marcus the moment they met.
Being with JOJO made him feel years younger.
As for his lawful wife, Helen—their marriage had long been on its deathbed. The only thing delaying the divorce was the custody battle over their daughter. If there was one thing Marcus still cared about in this life, it was his daughter, Lily. He'd already made up his mind: fight with everything he had for custody, then marry JOJO.
What worried him, though, was whether a girl like JOJO could love his daughter as her own.
Marcus shook his head as if trying to fling away these tangled thoughts. He put on his jacket and walked out of the office building. It was already past midnight. Against the ink-dark sky hung a moon, startlingly clear, like an open eye staring down without feeling at the vast land below.
All the hairs on Marcus's body stood on end in a primal reflex. The sensation flickered and vanished. He paused, looking around, but saw nothing unusual. Probably just overworked, he figured, and pulled his coat tighter as he hurried home.
After getting home, he took a hot shower, listened to some soothing music, and went to bed.
As he drifted toward sleep, the moon in the sky suddenly grew dim. A translucent membrane appeared noiselessly, blanketing the heavens. Its graceful arc traced the shape of a bat spreading its wings, enveloping the entirety of Luo City.
***
Marcus woke up.
He rubbed his bleary eyes and looked at the wall clock—ten minutes to five. The sun hadn't risen yet, the air was cool, and outside, the sounds of shouting and car horns shattered his pleasant dream into pieces. Cursing, Marcus stood up and looked out the window.
In an instant, all sleep left him. He froze, turned to stone.
In the pre-dawn sky, a translucent barrier had appeared, stretching from the distance. It looked vast. He immediately ran outside and joined the people on the street, all craning their necks upward. The translucent barrier curved over them like an overturned bowl, covering the entire area.
What was this...? Marcus murmured the question.
No one knew. No one could answer. Everyone stood there, slack-jawed, staring up at the enormous structure.
A vagrant came running by in excitement, shouting: "Judgment! This is God's judgment—"
Marcus recognized the vagrant. He often loitered around Marcus's neighborhood; a local church periodically gave him clothes and food, which was how he'd come to learn about "God."
But Marcus didn't think this was God's handiwork. His first thought was whether some large-scale military drill was underway. He pulled out his phone to call the relevant department, but found there was no signal at all.
Looking around, he saw many other people anxiously fiddling with their signal-less phones.
Marcus got in his car and drove toward the edge of the giant dome, choosing a road with lighter traffic. He needed to figure out what was going on. On the way, he turned on the car radio, but no matter which frequency he switched to, he couldn't pick up any signal. It seemed the dome was blocking all transmissions, which made him even more anxious.
Traffic was suddenly chaotic, and signals flickered uselessly. People milled about in confusion; vehicles swerved indiscriminately. Along the way, he witnessed more than a dozen traffic accidents. By the time he finally drove to the edge of the dome, it was already noon. This was near Luo City's boundary—beyond lay the suburbs. Because the dome was translucent, like frosted glass, he couldn't see clearly what was on the other side.
Marcus got out and approached the dome wall up close, examining its strange surface. He reached out and touched it—a cool sensation, the texture seemed extremely fine-grained, but he couldn't identify the material. He saw that several cars had crashed headlong into the dome wall; their front ends were crumpled, but the dome was completely unscathed. Clearly, brute force had already been tried, to no avail.
Marcus took out a Swiss Army knife he always carried and slashed at the dome wall. The sharp blade left not a single mark. He gripped the handle, took a deep breath, and swung hard—only to hear a sharp "snap!" The knife broke in two, and the half-blade flew off, gashing a deep cut across his face.
He roared in anger and frustration.
Thankfully, there was a first-aid kit in the car. He cleaned and bandaged the wound. After calming down, he changed tactics and started digging downward—but he gave up before long. The dome seemed to be fused with the earth, extending downward like tree roots to an unknowable depth.
Marcus decided to stop and wait for an official announcement. An event this significant was bound to generate some kind of response. By the time he drove back home, the sun was nearly setting. The red glow of sunset, filtered through the translucent dome, looked like a pale, undercooked egg yolk.
Back in his apartment, the first thing Marcus did was turn on the TV for news, but it was the same as his phone and the car radio—no signal whatsoever. The area under the dome seemed entirely cut off from the world.
How strange, Marcus thought. Was someone playing a very long game of chess?
No matter how hard he racked his brain, he couldn't make sense of it. He took a perfunctory shower, changed the bandage on his face, and went to sleep.
Marcus groggily opened his eyes and checked the clock—ten minutes to five. Same time as yesterday.
He raised his head and looked out the window. The massive dome still loomed overhead, unchanged from the day before. But something felt wrong. He touched his face—the wound had healed! Not just healed, but even the medicine he'd applied was gone!
Marcus scrambled up and looked in the mirror. The wound hadn't just healed—it was as if it had never existed. His skin was smooth and unscarred, exactly as it had been yesterday. He turned and saw the Swiss Army knife sitting intact on the table. His confusion deepened—this knife should have been snapped in half yesterday.
What on earth was going on?
Outside, he heard crowds shouting and cars honking frantically. Traffic order had completely disintegrated. People scurried about like panic-stricken ants; cars jammed together, horns blaring in shrill, overlapping cacophony. Marcus even saw someone plummet from a building across the way.
His heart lurched. His first thought was of his daughter. Lily was in second grade at a full-time boarding school, coming home only once a week. He had no idea what was really happening, but his only fear was that the chaos might reach the school. He drove out immediately, but got stuck in gridlock. All he could do was honk in frustration.
The vagrant came running over, banging on his car window: "Judgment! The final judgment!"