I pressed Y.
Not a literal mirror—a gray, featureless plane that reflected my own face via my webcam. I hadn't given it permission, but there I was: tired, 34, frizzy ponytail. Below my reflection, a single line of text:
I closed the game. Not alt-F4—I clicked the X in the corner, the way you close a document you're finished with. The gray planet flickered. The chain counter froze at 1,000.
I pressed space.
For a long moment, my screen was black.
A voice, flat and synthesized: "Select your first target."
: You build modular space stations and specialized structures to generate resources and produce ships. obliterate everything 4
I clicked launch.
: Like its predecessors, ships in ATS are autonomous. You manage the economy and shipyard waypoints, but the ships' intelligent AI chooses its own targets in the heat of battle.
In a world grappling with the escalating crises of climate change, environmental degradation, and loss of biodiversity, a radical new approach emerges: "Obliterate Everything 4." At first glance, the title seems alarming, even destructive. However, this concept proposes a drastic yet innovative strategy for rebooting our relationship with the planet. I pressed Y
The next morning, my editor called. "Where's the obituary for Obliterate Everything 4 ?"
I've never pressed Y again.
I'd just erased a library—every book, every shelf, every dust mote—when the voice said: "You have not yet asked why." Below my reflection, a single line of text: