The Year is 2055. The elongated, cigar-shaped object, eerily reminiscent of the interstellar visitor ‘Oumuamua’ but twenty times its size, dominates the central screen. It is designation “31/ATLAS,” a name that now sparks worldwide panic.
The image, broadcast live from a deep-space probe’s camera feed, shows the mᴀssive, sculpted vessel accompanied by a swarm of smaller, glowing orbs—scout drones that move with the uncanny synchronized precision of an insect colony. The breaking news banner screams: “THIS WILL BE TOTAL CHAOS.” The small inset on the right, displaying raw data from the ATLAS telescope network in 2053, had initially registered 31/ATLAS merely as a non-gravitational velocity anomaly, but the latest visuals confirm artificiality down to the pockmarked, weaponized hull.
The frantic face of the pale astrophysicist in the corner is Dr. Hiroshi Sato, the man who first publicly hypothesized that ‘Oumuamua was a derelict starship in 2017. His worst fears have been realized. The “31/ATLAS Directive” called for immediate, global preparedness; the ‘Oumuamua precursor was just a marker, and this new arrival is its parent vessel. The emergency meeting called by NASA officials at 06:42 AM is not about diplomatic protocol; it’s about enacting the “Chaos Protocol,” a classified military strategy for managing global collapse under hostile extraterrestrial contact. Spectroscopic analysis confirms the main vessel is generating an intense, localized warp field.
Its trajectory correction vector, calculated precisely at 06:38 AM GMT, places it on a direct, unalterable collision course with the Moon—a deliberate, catastrophic act of planetary destabilization. The human race, in its hubris, had searched for proof of life for too long. Now, contact was imminent, and the sheer scale and evident hostility of 31/ATLAS promised only one outcome: total chaos.
