The Extinction Trials by A.G. Riddle
To the brave souls who keep going—even when it feels like the world is ending.
Prologue
The dinner host tapped his champagne glass with a fork.
The ding-ding-ding echoed through the vast dining room, drawing the attention of the sixty guests.
“Tonight, I’d like to pose a simple question: what is the destiny of the human race?”
He let the words hang in the air for a moment.
“We all know the answer. At some point, our species will go extinct.”
He paced the room, all eyes following him.
“How? What will be our end? Artificial intelligence? Will our undoing come at the hands of an AI project one of your companies is working on? Or maybe another one of your pet projects? Will genetic engineering splinter our species, making some of us obsolete, setting off an unimaginable war between the next humans and the ones left behind?”
The host turned and paced again, stopping in front of a pair of doors that opened onto a wide stone veranda. Beyond, waves from the ocean crashed upon the rocks, a soft symphony punctuating the speech.
“Let’s assume, for a moment, that our extinction won’t come at the hands of one of our inventions. After all, we’re not here tonight to point fingers. Tonight, we’re here to find a solution—to whatever awaits us.”
Murmurs erupted around the room.
The host pressed on. “Consider how vulnerable we are. A solar flare could destroy our planet in the blink of an eye. A supervolcano could blot out the sun, and starve us and freeze us into extinction. Would we stand a chance against an alien invasion? Perhaps our end will come from an old enemy: a pandemic—maybe a more deadly version of a pathogen we’ve already lived through.”
A sea breeze swept in through the doors, tugging at the man’s white hair.
“And there’s another great question that should haunt us all: why do we seem to be alone in the universe? Is that a clue to our true destiny? Tonight, I’d like to propose a simple solution to those twin enigmas that have always haunted us.”
He held his hands out to the crowd, palms up.
“We know the truth: we can’t stop what’s coming. We can’t prevent the next extinction event. What we can do… is control what happens after. That is the key to the future.”
He let his hands drop to his sides.
“What I’m proposing is a new kind of experiment. A project with one purpose: to restart the human race after the Fall. A project that will witness the rebirth of our species and unravel the deepest secrets of our existence. I’m calling it The Extinction Trials, and I want you to be part of it.”
PART I
The Fall
Chapter One
Every morning, before work, Owen Watts visited the nursing home.
The halls were mostly empty. Only a few doors stood open. Residents sat outside their rooms, knitting or reading, glancing up as he passed, most staring at his uniform.
At his mother’s door, he paused and peered in.
Owen had a dangerous job, but that moment every morning was easily the most frightening he faced every day. One morning, he knew he would find the room empty. The narrow bed made. His mother’s pictures and belongings gone.
But not today.
She sat in a chair by the window, a book in her lap.
He breathed out as he crossed the threshold, his heavy footfalls drawing his mother’s attention, and instantly, a smile.
Life had taught Owen the value of time. How precious it was. How quickly things changed.
His work had left scars on his body. Life had left a few on his soul. They were what made him cling to the time he had left with his mother.
“Reading anything good?” he asked as he took the seat across from her.
“Well, I just started. But it looks promising. An original premise. And a likable main character.”
She studied him a moment. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
She cocked her head.
“Work,” he said simply, hoping she would drop it, knowing she wouldn’t.
“What about work?”
“Work… is getting weird.”
“Weird how?”
“Weird as in I’m slowly being replaced by robots.”
“It’s safer that way.”
“True.”
“You’re worried about what you’ll do next—when the robots have completely replaced your job.”
Owen smiled. “You can read me like one of those books.”
“That’s what mothers are for.” She paused. “I know what’s really bothering you.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Your limitation.”
Growing up, Owen’s mother and father never used the word handicap. Limitation—that’s the word they used. Because everyone has limitations.
“Can I bore you with a piece of advice?” she asked.
He exhaled and nodded.
“Life isn’t about your limitations. They matter far less than you think. You make a living doing what you’re good at. That’s what’s important—your strengths, not your limitations.”