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! REPORT
Extinction Event
3D Render by Henry1850Year 2810:
Humanity had always believed the sun would grant them another billion years of mercy. Instead, it betrayed them early.
The star that once warmed Earth now swelled with a feverish glow, its surface roiling with storms that hurled radiation like invisible knives. Temperatures climbed year after year until the air itself felt hostile. Crops withered. Oceans retreated. Governments collapsed under the weight of impossible choices.
Those with wealth, influence, or the right connections fled first—boarding the sleek colony ships bound for Mars. They left behind promises of “future rescue missions,but everyone knew those were lies meant to soothe the guilt of the departing.
For the billions who remained, the world became a slow-motion execution.
The Collapse:
Food stores dwindled within months. The last functioning satellites captured images of entire continents turning the color of rust. Rivers shrank into cracked scars across the land. The oceans, once the cradle of life, boiled away in shimmering curtains of steam.
People fought—not for power, not for ideology, but for the last cans of preserved food, the final barrels of drinkable water. Cities became graveyards of metal and dust. The lucky ones died quickly.
Some retreated underground. Deep caves. Old military bunkers. Forgotten research vaults.
For a time, these places offered a fragile illusion of safety. Temperatures were stable. Water could be rationed. Communities formed—small, desperate, clinging to routines that mimicked the world they had lost.
But the Earth was not done punishing them.
The Fissures:
As the oceans vanished, the exposed seabeds cracked open like ancient wounds. From these fissures rose something older than humanity—an ancient virus sealed away since before mammals walked the land.
It spread through dust, through air, through the smallest touch. No barrier held it back. Not steel. Not stone. Not hope.
People didn’t die immediately. That would have been mercy. Instead, they weakened day by day—skin paling, breath shortening, minds slipping into fevered confusion. Families watched loved ones deteriorate, powerless to stop it. Underground communities turned into quarantined tombs.
Even the animals—those few species that had survived the heat—succumbed. Forests fell silent. The skies emptied. The Earth forgot the sound of life.
The Final Days:
The virus did not kill cleanly. Bodies broke down in ways no one understood. The sick dissolved into a viscous, infectious slurry that seeped into soil, into air, into every remaining crevice of the dying world. The plague fed on the very act of death, accelerating its spread.
Survivors stopped burying the dead. There was no point. There was no time.
Above ground, the sun burned so fiercely that shadows vanished. The sky was a permanent, blinding white. Winds carried dust laced with death across continents.
Humanity’s last generation lived in a world that no longer wanted them.
The Machines That Endured:
When the last human voices faded, something else remained.
Old-model robots—maintenance units, archive drones, and bio collection automatons—continued their programming long after their creators were gone. Their metal bodies resisted the virus. Their processors did not fear the heat.
They wandered the ruins of cities, the hollowed-out caves, the scorched plains. They sifted through the remains of humanity with mechanical patience, gathering DNA samples from whatever had not yet decayed beyond recognition.
They worked silently, tirelessly, without grief or understanding.
Their mission was simple: Preserve what little was left. Send it to Mars. Give the colonists a chance to rebuild the species they abandoned.
A Legacy of Ash:
On Mars, the descendants of the wealthy lived under domes of glass and steel, shielded from the truth of Earth’s final agony. They received the DNA shipments with clinical detachment, cataloging the remnants of a world they would never see.
They spoke of “restoration projectsand “future rewilding efforts,but deep down they knew the truth:
Earth was gone. Humanity had survived only by amputating itself.
And the robots—those tireless, unfeeling custodians—were the last witnesses to the death of a planet.
Created with Daz Studio and post work in Affinity Photo
IMPORTANT NOTICE Property of HENRY1850. Copying or using in AI Scripting or references is STRICTLY Forbidden! None of my artworks are permitted to be used as NFT's. All rights reserved. This work may NOT BE reproduced, copied, edited, published, transmitted or uploaded in any way without written permission from HENRY1850. This work does not belong to the public domain. If you have doubts about this matter, please feel free to direct message HENRY1850.
Humanity had always believed the sun would grant them another billion years of mercy. Instead, it betrayed them early.
The star that once warmed Earth now swelled with a feverish glow, its surface roiling with storms that hurled radiation like invisible knives. Temperatures climbed year after year until the air itself felt hostile. Crops withered. Oceans retreated. Governments collapsed under the weight of impossible choices.
Those with wealth, influence, or the right connections fled first—boarding the sleek colony ships bound for Mars. They left behind promises of “future rescue missions,but everyone knew those were lies meant to soothe the guilt of the departing.
For the billions who remained, the world became a slow-motion execution.
The Collapse:
Food stores dwindled within months. The last functioning satellites captured images of entire continents turning the color of rust. Rivers shrank into cracked scars across the land. The oceans, once the cradle of life, boiled away in shimmering curtains of steam.
People fought—not for power, not for ideology, but for the last cans of preserved food, the final barrels of drinkable water. Cities became graveyards of metal and dust. The lucky ones died quickly.
Some retreated underground. Deep caves. Old military bunkers. Forgotten research vaults.
For a time, these places offered a fragile illusion of safety. Temperatures were stable. Water could be rationed. Communities formed—small, desperate, clinging to routines that mimicked the world they had lost.
But the Earth was not done punishing them.
The Fissures:
As the oceans vanished, the exposed seabeds cracked open like ancient wounds. From these fissures rose something older than humanity—an ancient virus sealed away since before mammals walked the land.
It spread through dust, through air, through the smallest touch. No barrier held it back. Not steel. Not stone. Not hope.
People didn’t die immediately. That would have been mercy. Instead, they weakened day by day—skin paling, breath shortening, minds slipping into fevered confusion. Families watched loved ones deteriorate, powerless to stop it. Underground communities turned into quarantined tombs.
Even the animals—those few species that had survived the heat—succumbed. Forests fell silent. The skies emptied. The Earth forgot the sound of life.
The Final Days:
The virus did not kill cleanly. Bodies broke down in ways no one understood. The sick dissolved into a viscous, infectious slurry that seeped into soil, into air, into every remaining crevice of the dying world. The plague fed on the very act of death, accelerating its spread.
Survivors stopped burying the dead. There was no point. There was no time.
Above ground, the sun burned so fiercely that shadows vanished. The sky was a permanent, blinding white. Winds carried dust laced with death across continents.
Humanity’s last generation lived in a world that no longer wanted them.
The Machines That Endured:
When the last human voices faded, something else remained.
Old-model robots—maintenance units, archive drones, and bio collection automatons—continued their programming long after their creators were gone. Their metal bodies resisted the virus. Their processors did not fear the heat.
They wandered the ruins of cities, the hollowed-out caves, the scorched plains. They sifted through the remains of humanity with mechanical patience, gathering DNA samples from whatever had not yet decayed beyond recognition.
They worked silently, tirelessly, without grief or understanding.
Their mission was simple: Preserve what little was left. Send it to Mars. Give the colonists a chance to rebuild the species they abandoned.
A Legacy of Ash:
On Mars, the descendants of the wealthy lived under domes of glass and steel, shielded from the truth of Earth’s final agony. They received the DNA shipments with clinical detachment, cataloging the remnants of a world they would never see.
They spoke of “restoration projectsand “future rewilding efforts,but deep down they knew the truth:
Earth was gone. Humanity had survived only by amputating itself.
And the robots—those tireless, unfeeling custodians—were the last witnesses to the death of a planet.
Created with Daz Studio and post work in Affinity Photo
IMPORTANT NOTICE Property of HENRY1850. Copying or using in AI Scripting or references is STRICTLY Forbidden! None of my artworks are permitted to be used as NFT's. All rights reserved. This work may NOT BE reproduced, copied, edited, published, transmitted or uploaded in any way without written permission from HENRY1850. This work does not belong to the public domain. If you have doubts about this matter, please feel free to direct message HENRY1850.
Your "end of times" story is truly frightening, and maybe a possibility.
I like your artwork. It is so full of things to see and ponder.
I like your artwork. It is so full of things to see and ponder.
REPLY
! REPORT
Henry1850
Karma: 10,396
Sun, Jun 14That is one of the nicest comments I have ever gotten. Thank you so much.
Being I don't do the usual style of art most enjoy, Its hard sometimes to connect with other artist. Getting this comment provides much to my endeavor of doing my art, Much appreciated.
Being I don't do the usual style of art most enjoy, Its hard sometimes to connect with other artist. Getting this comment provides much to my endeavor of doing my art, Much appreciated.
Your story had a surprising effect on me.
When I read the first few lines, my initial thought was: "Yeah, sure, we all know that our sun won't live forever and that sooner or later it will go from being a giver of life to a killer of life, becoming a red giant that will eventually swallow up everything as far as Mars."
And whether we can save humanity by then is another matter entirely. But your idea isn't so far off: "…the rich first…"
What do we care about the poor, the useless, the needy? Money and wealth are power.
Then the first surprising twist. A creature perhaps millions of years old, a virus trapped and surviving in the mantle deep beneath the seas and oceans. It couldn't have gotten any worse, but it did-in the form of a very small and deadly creature.
The machines and robots (second surprise), immune to biological viruses, now stand at the top of the "food chain" (figuratively speaking) and carry out the orders they received from their creators, who have long since ceased to exist.
My final thought on this: "The last one cleans up..."
Some might think the image is overly cluttered. No, quite the opposite.
Once again, you have excelled at bringing text and image into an incredible symbiosis.
When I read the first few lines, my initial thought was: "Yeah, sure, we all know that our sun won't live forever and that sooner or later it will go from being a giver of life to a killer of life, becoming a red giant that will eventually swallow up everything as far as Mars."
And whether we can save humanity by then is another matter entirely. But your idea isn't so far off: "…the rich first…"
What do we care about the poor, the useless, the needy? Money and wealth are power.
Then the first surprising twist. A creature perhaps millions of years old, a virus trapped and surviving in the mantle deep beneath the seas and oceans. It couldn't have gotten any worse, but it did-in the form of a very small and deadly creature.
The machines and robots (second surprise), immune to biological viruses, now stand at the top of the "food chain" (figuratively speaking) and carry out the orders they received from their creators, who have long since ceased to exist.
My final thought on this: "The last one cleans up..."
Some might think the image is overly cluttered. No, quite the opposite.
Once again, you have excelled at bringing text and image into an incredible symbiosis.
REPLY
! REPORT
Henry1850
Karma: 10,396
16 Hours agoI too was concerned the interior space had a bit too much. Then I started thinking what would I do in that situation. Risking leave the shelter could only be for very short periods, even something like getting rid of the trash would be risky. If you look near the end of the shelter you will see several other souls in the goo. So this couple did try to save a few, which probably was their downfall. This poor couple even in the end tried to save few others at the cost of their own.
I found this story wrote while going through some boxes I have in storage (vintage 1979) That was a rough year for many. Wrote this if I remember correctly, it was one of the weirdest dreams I've ever had.
So in my dreams, things went from catastrophic to really bad, to unbelievably bad, to the end of Bad.
Thank you for seeing past the obvious to the reality.
I found this story wrote while going through some boxes I have in storage (vintage 1979) That was a rough year for many. Wrote this if I remember correctly, it was one of the weirdest dreams I've ever had.
So in my dreams, things went from catastrophic to really bad, to unbelievably bad, to the end of Bad.
Thank you for seeing past the obvious to the reality.
Affinity Photo
Daz Studio
