Fractured

The world was already teetering on the edge of chaos when the virus struck—a rogue pathogen unlike anything the modern world had seen. It was virulent but curiously selective, sparing the young while devastating the elderly and vulnerable. Fear spread faster than the disease itself, and the global response was frantic and desperate. In record time, a vaccine was rolled out, hailed as humanity’s savior. Politicians and scientists stood on podiums, urging the masses to comply for the greater good. Billions lined up for the shot, a needle piercing flesh becoming a symbol of hope.

But that hope curdled into something far darker.

The vaccine’s side effects were subtle at first—an unusual fatigue, flashes of irritability—but they grew more severe with time. People’s tempers shortened, their reasoning eroded, and their ability to trust one another withered. What began as minor disagreements over petty matters escalated into screaming matches, then physical violence. Entire families fractured as paranoia seeped into the cracks of human relationships. Communities turned against themselves, suspicion reigning supreme.

Governments, already strained by the initial pandemic, struggled to maintain order. Their attempts at control—curfews, rationing, even mass detentions—only deepened the rift. The media, once a trusted institution, became a tool for propaganda and manipulation, amplifying the chaos. One side blamed the vaccine; the other blamed those who refused it. The truth was buried under a mountain of lies and conspiracy theories, leaving humanity unable to reconcile its differences.

Cities, once hubs of commerce and culture, became battlegrounds. The streets were littered with the remnants of a civilized world: abandoned cars, looted stores, and the haunting silence of empty homes. Villages and rural areas fared no better, as trust eroded even in tight-knit communities. Neighbors spied on neighbors, and violence often erupted over imagined slights.

Society didn’t collapse in a single moment—it unraveled, thread by thread, until nothing was left to hold it together. The remnants of humanity wandered the desolation, wary of everyone and everything. No one could be trusted; alliances were fleeting, and betrayal was as common as the sunrise.

The vaccine, once thought to be salvation, had sown the seeds of madness. Whether it was a flaw in its design, a rushed development, or something far more sinister, no one could say. What was certain was that it had turned humanity’s greatest strength—its capacity for connection and cooperation—into its greatest weakness.

In the end, the virus didn’t need to kill humanity; it simply had to watch as the survivors destroyed themselves.