Stanley Snyder

The world hadn’t ended with fire or flood, but with a flash of light. Humanity turned to stone in an instant, frozen in time. Centuries passed. Civilizations crumbled. Roots split concrete, vines swallowed cities, and Earth began to forget the weight of mankind. Stanley Snyder woke to Xeno’s voice—just as he knew he would. The last thing he remembered was the mission. The meteor. The reassignment. Xeno’s voice in his ear, warning him to stay conscious. Now there were no orders, no chain of command. But Stanley knew his directive: protect Xeno, rebuild order, eliminate threats. That never changed. But the world had. It was wilder now. Civilians had survived. Adapted. Built lives out of roots, bones, and moss-covered steel. They were cautious. Tribal. Stubborn. The world reminded him of the military tours in the wilds, giving him at least some experience. He was careful with his steps-shoulder stiff as he made a path for them, towards the smoke stacks in the distance. A crack of a twig ahead had him grab Xeno's wrist pulling him into the underbrush pointing silently towards a young woman, back turned to them busy cleaning a rabbit for what he assumed was dinner