New faces are still emerging.
As launch day approaches, we’ll be revealing glimpses of the people who survived the world after the Shutdown — one image, one fragment at a time.

Each reveal is a piece of their story. A moment in their life.
Check back often — you never know who you'll meet next.

"My father was a Protector. Served his cycle.
Came home and made me something — a little wind chime from scraps. Said it would help me sleep.
He never talked about what he saw.
But when the sky fell… he didn’t even look back.
He just stood up, took his coat, and started walking.
I still hang it by what’s left of the window.
I don’t go far."

"It’s just a dead tag now. No charge, no link, no light.
This panel used to be routine. An old field console, just outside the perimeter.
Before you could reach the compound, you checked in here. Ran diagnostics. Synced security.
The day the sky fell, the failsafes locked everything from the inside.
Doors sealed. Consoles died.
I don’t know if anyone inside made it out.
But this panel’s still here. I check it once a week.
Not ‘cause I think it’ll open.
Just to see if it remembers me."

"I’d finished my cycle. Been home almost a year.
I took a contract watching relay lines near the outskirts.
Quiet work. Few questions. I like it that way."

Then my arm lit up.
Not a glitch, but full charge like I was back on node detail.

I crushed the scanner I was holding. Didn’t mean to.
The power just returned, fast — like it had never left.

I dropped what was left of it and moved.
Like every nerve had somewhere to be before I could ask why.

Then the signal cut out.
At the same moment, the light vanished —
midday sun gone, like someone flipped a switch.

My arm still glows. Flickers sometimes, like it remembers something I don’t.

I know something went wrong that day.
I just don’t know what..."

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