0075. All the insides left cold and grey.

Gabriel Quinn died in the year 2039.

The meteor struck at 3:42 a.m. in the village of Adelphi, Ohio–one of the last places left untouched by the Palisthis invasion, if only because it had nothing to offer. A small population, remote location, and lack of resources ensured that Adelphi remained unmolested–provided they remained obedient.

Gabriel woke at 3:41 and fifty-two seconds as light flooded through his windows, reflecting in a flat plastic sheen from the faded, curl-edged posters on his walls. His mother screamed from somewhere downstairs. His father’s curses silenced her. A roaring filled the night, its cry a palpable thing that scraped over the fine hairs on Gabriel’s arms. He flung himself to the floor as the walls began to shake. A small porcelain elephant fell from his shelf and shattered against weathered wooden floorboards. He’d had it since he was a child; his mother had bought it for a quarter at a flea market in Dublin.

Throwing himself under the bed, Gabriel stared into the light, white and all-consuming. It reached through the window with grasping spears; he threw his arm up to shield his eyes, and screamed as it burned into his flesh. Pain flared, seared through him–and then eclipsed, as he ceased to exist.

Dawn flooded over Ohio hours later, and the smoking crater where Adelphi had been. By then the Palisthis had come and gone; the bodies piled high in aerial barges, broken and lifeless and good only for scrap iron extraction.

Daylight found only dust, and the shattered remnants of a hundred lives.

By morning, Gabriel Quinn lived again.