Apocalypse Girl
The biggest conspiracy in all history is happening right now and it affects everyone - including you. Please press play and hopefully, after you hear what is about to happen, you will want to help.
That's all I can safely say right now, because they see everything.
Listen and you will believe.
Apocalypse Girl
A Warning
There's this girl...
Hello? Hello?
Speaker 01:Hello?
Unknown:Okay, okay.
Speaker 01:I think I opened a path now.
Speaker 03:I'm not sure how much time I have. They're still looking for me. They never stop. And I think they may be getting close again. I'm trying to get this out to the world any way I can before it's too late. Even though it's probably already too late. I'm thinking the best way to keep them from destroying this information is to just try to put it out everywhere. Audio, video, pods, books. Even embedded inside music. So it just looks like one more weird thing on the internet. If they find one version and delete it, hopefully others will survive so enough people find out what's going on. All right, what I'm about to tell you, this all really happened, and more importantly, is still happening, which means we're probably already all totally fucked, but I have to at least try and fix it. I'm hoping that once you understand what's going on, you'll wanna help. I know the internet's full of freak spew and all kinds of insane conspiracies, but Well, you just found the biggest one in history, the mother of all conspiracies, the grandmother of all conspiracies, the apex alpha supreme. This directly affects everybody, including you, and not in a good way. Now, it may seem really weird how I can project events as they happen and even know what people are thinking and feeling during them, but I promise, in time, it will all become clear. Also, a lot of this may seem impossible or make me sound completely fucking psychotic, but once I explain everything, you'll absolutely know, to your core, it's all completely true, and it will also most likely make you shit yourself. I can only pray you're willing to take that chance. Okay, I guess the best place to start would be the alley. New York City, the Bronx, Walton near East 167th, not really the safest neighborhood, especially at night, and it's 2.40 a.m. Six-story dark red brick apartment buildings on three sides, only one way in or out. At the back of the alley, there's this girl, mid-20s. She's sleeping against the back wall. She's 5'11", long, dark blonde hair, hasn't washed in a while. Her race is not really clear. Her skin shade actually seems to change with the angle of the light, from pale beige to dark olive. She's wearing old, poor-fitting jeans, a tattered green top. She appears homeless or whatever we're supposed to call it now. But there's something oddly singular about her. Some rough laughter echoes from out in the street. And two large, fairly drunk men, Alec and Bill, stumble past the far alley opening, finishing off a bottle of $4 Evan Williams. They stop to swig and notice the girl. They like what they see.
Speaker 01:Hey. How's it going?
Speaker 03:The girl opens her far-spaced eyes. They're startlingly huge and an odd piercing blue-green. She remains dead still and quiet, staring blankly forward.
Speaker 01:What's the matter? You wanna have some fun with us? We got some great stuff here.
Speaker 03:No response.
Speaker 01:What are you, some sort of stuck-up bitch? Come on now, give us a big smile. Let's see that mouth.
Speaker 03:She remains silent and motionless, her head dully throbbing from her recent trauma. Everything seems strange and off, but she senses these men are a clear danger. She feels a definite growing threat. The men smile, not with kindness, but as predators. Alec starts to move directly toward her. He gets about four feet from her and suddenly feels an extreme growing heat between his legs. He stops short and looks down. The last thing he ever sees is his own groin in possibly glowing barbecue red. Bill is having an identical experience. The pain hits them both simultaneously. It's beyond anything. Instant. Everywhere. Excruciating. Within two seconds, each of their four testicles reach a temperature of 27 million degrees, about the same as the center of the sun. Their groins flare blindingly white in two perfectly contained crotch-sized miniature supernova explosions. where there was once gonads and a penis, there is now just an empty, slightly smoking void. Other than being groinless, the men appear unharmed, but they both died instantly. They remain standing for a few moments, but then slowly topple over. The girl never stops staring blankly forward. She smoothly rises, gracefully steps over the bodies, and calmly walks out of the alley, searching for a quieter place to rest and heal. I told you there was going to be some weird fucked up shit. Now, right around the same time in my fourth floor walk up on West 73rd, I was breaking up with my girlfriend, Heather. Actually, to be completely honest, she was breaking up with me by text, even though she was sitting on the same couch less than three feet away. We both work as coders at different software companies, but had met at a Manhattan hackathon and wound up moving in together after only two weeks of mutual intense love bombing. Cohabitating at this point is considered by virtually all relationship experts to be much too fast and extremely stupid. Still, all seemed fine to me as we approached our four month mark. We had fallen asleep binging a show on Peacock that spectacularly sucked. Entire episodes would crawl by with absolutely nothing remotely interesting happening. A series that clearly only had enough ideas for maybe four episodes had been sadistically stretched to a stupor-inducing eight. I read they do that to make the budgets work. Something about amortizing costs, which is why so much of streaming is a claw-your-own-eyes-out crap fest. Anyway, as we both slowly start to come out of our boredom-induced I ignorantly think Heather is just checking her phone when I hear, and receive the following. I really care about you, but I think this is over. I'm going. Are you serious? Why would you just text me something like that?
Speaker 00:Because I've been wanting to tell you for a while, but it's really hard for me to talk about. I didn't want to hurt you.
Speaker 03:So texts don't hurt?
Speaker 00:You always twist my words.
Speaker 03:Heather quickly grabs a bunch of her things and is gone from our apartment and my life. in less than three minutes, which is actually kind of impressive. It seems pretty clear that she'd carefully planned this for a while. As she packed, I asked her to stay, some might say beg, and try to work things out, but I was groggy and she was super fast. It was an excellent strategy for someone that doesn't like to get into feelings, and Heather definitely doesn't. She probably picked the ultra-boring show on purpose to make sure I was groggy and incoherent. Even though Heather is very smart, likes to laugh, loves to read, she hates to explore emotions. her sister Kathy, who never likes any of my girlfriends, describes her as deep as a kiddie pool. Still, we've been together for almost half a year, and I'm fairly devastated. I thought she was the one, even though I had absolutely zero reason to think that, except that I really wanted to think that. I mean, we didn't talk that much or have many, any real common interests outside of coding, and the sex was just okay. Very doable, orgasms all around, but not magic. But I guess I just don't believe in magic. I just thought Heather was about as good as life gets. You see, I have a pretty low opinion of life and the world in general, so I think that anything that isn't a full-on torturous shitshow is good enough. And our relationship had settled into a totally solid meh, so she must be the one. As you can see, I can be an idiot. The next morning at work, a low-paying startup that will soon make us all billionaires or go completely bankrupt. We're trying to be the next TikTok without all the spying. The breakup really starts to hit me. I realize I'm totally alone in the universe again, maybe this time forever. I've often been disappointed with the way people treat each other on this planet. So much abandonment, lying, stealing, and the ever popular killing. So Heather dumping me was just another check in my all-humans-totally-suck box. I pour my heart out to my friend and cubicle neighbor, Ferris, who immediately comes over to give me a sweet hug. I'm so sorry, my friend. Thanks, Ferris. I've always really hated her. What? She still listens to Kanye. Anyone who still listens to Kanye is a straight-up asshole. I'm not sure someone's musical taste is a 100% reliable way to judge them. Oh, it absolutely is. You just dodged a bullet of pure evil, brah. Maybe. I just didn't see this coming. Seriously? You always pick people that are guaranteed to leave you. That's your jam. Classic commitment phobe. How is it my jam? She left me. Commitment phobes always unconsciously choose other commitment phobes. That Make sure everything goes to shit before things get serious. You sound like my shrink sister. Your sister is so hot. Is she single? No, I've told you, Kathy's a lesbian. Still, huh? It's not like the flu, Ferris. It doesn't go away. I really hate it when we lose a good one to the other side. There are no sides. Anyway, you don't need to be a psych to know that you have major relationship issues, brah. I'm fine. How old are you? 31. And who's the longest smash partner you've ever had? How long? Almost four months. Shit. So, yeah, I guess I may possibly have some relationship issues, but who wouldn't with my history? My parents erupted into a nuclear divorce when I was just six. Kathy says that really messed with my head and gave me major trust issues, which causes me to self-sabotage my dating life. I used to think she was full of crap, but it's starting to look like she's right. I'm probably gonna end up alone and bitter instead of married and bitter. Anyway, I guess now's a good time to tell you about police detective Gina Williams. She's woken up two hours early by a text telling her to head directly to a crime scene in the Bronx. You know which one. Gina's tired and cranky and not really in the mood. She drank a bit last night, which is becoming almost every night. Her coworkers warned her being a cop would lead to burnout before she even hit 40, but she made homicide detective last year at only 36, and that made her feel completely energized again, but only for a little while. Soon her life fell back to feeling pointless and numb, just one murder after another, each one tragic and senseless, only the details changed. Almost everyone she interviews in the course of her work lies to her one way or another, which makes her eventually distrust every single human she meets. She's struggling with the most common and dangerous cop disease, ever-growing cynicism and despair over how cruel humans can be to each other. She spends her days driving to one terrible, horrible event after another and meeting some of the most evil people the human race has to offer, while zooming right past almost everyone that's sweet, loving, and kind. It's a very bizarre way to live and starts to give the overwhelming, hopeless impression that evil is everywhere it's totally winning and resistance is futile. In other words, major burnout. Again, I know it's really weird that I know and can show you all this shit, but as I promised, it'll all become clear in time. Anyway, Gina pulls into the alley on Walton, gets out of her car, and ducks under the crime table. Fred Hader, 52, a grizzled forensics officer, bolts right for her, very excited, which is extremely unusual for a seen-it-all veteran like Fred.
Speaker 02:We got something really fucked up here, Gina.
Speaker 03:He leads her to the two men lying dead on their backs.
Speaker 02:What's wrong with this picture? These men have no groins. That's why you get the big detective money. How is this accomplished? That's the great part. I got no fucking idea.
Speaker 04:None
Speaker 02:at all? Well, except that it was heat. Heat? Yeah. See this tiny bit of carbonization around where the scrotum used to be? Guess what temperature it would take to do something like that.
Speaker 04:What?
Speaker 02:No fucking idea. Our equipment can't resolve anything above 2,000 degrees.
Speaker 04:You're saying... These men's dicks heated up to 2,000 degrees.
Speaker 02:No, much hotter. Like surface of the sun hotter.
Speaker 04:What kind of weapon
Speaker 02:could do
Speaker 04:that?
Speaker 02:No fucking idea. And the burns are also insanely, perfectly, totally symmetrical. 100% complete control over exactly what parts of their junk got deep fried to nothing. Jesus Christ. Unlikely. But at this point, we shouldn't rule anyone out.
Speaker 03:As Gina stares at the gaping spaces between the men's legs... She realizes she's facing some kind of completely new and extremely dangerous threat. She feels guilty over how much this thrills her. At the same time, the girl from the alley is walking down 7th. It's busy and loud. She draws almost no attention. Just one more in the ever-growing ranks of the unhoused. Her head hurts less than last night, but there's still a constant feeling of strangeness and confusion. She comes to a coffee bean and stares through the window. Lots of people looking at their phones and laptops. Something about the devices pulls at her. She goes inside, positioning herself to see as many as many screens as possible. In a few seconds, they all begin to scroll and load pages faster and faster. The devices quickly become seriously overloaded and start to heat up. Phones quickly become too hot to hold. Several people fling them away. There's a rising what-the-fuck-is-happening panic roiling through the store. The girl calmly bends down, scoops up an iPhone, and strides out the door. All the remaining devices instantly return to normal. The crowd begins to calm down, is still searching for her phone. A tourist in a T-shirt says he saw the scruffy girl pick up a phone and leave. He didn't realize it wasn't hers. The woman dashes out to the street, but the girl is gone, swallowed up in the aggressive flow of endless pedestrians. The girl continues down the street, staring at her acquired seven-inch screen with extreme concentration. It continues to scroll at blurring speed, loading page after page. The device is searingly hot in her hand, but she doesn't react. At work, I'm slumped at my desk, now in a full-on breakup depression. I can't concentrate enough to get any work done. It's hard to even hold my head up straight. I'm always amazed how just thoughts and feelings alone can physically beat the crap out of you. It feels like someone's repeatedly kicking my heart right in the balls. My phone vibrates. It's a message from Heather. I bet she's suffering the exact same way I am. There has to be a path to work this out. I read the text. Hope you're doing okay. Since I'm not living there anymore, I won't be covering my half of the rent, just so there's no misunderstanding. Best, Heather. Best? You share a bed with someone for almost half a year and all you get is a best? Not even a fucking XO. Cold. She picked the perfect time to leave, too. The rent is due in three days. And I won't be able to make it without Heather. I need to find a new roommate fast. An hour later, I show my emergency Craigslist ad to Ferris. He gives it the thumbs up, but warns me that Craigslist has a 36% stabbing rate. Ferris will say things like that with zero facts to back him up, but it still manages to make me a little paranoid. The response to my apartment roommate ad is typical New York, a desperate, panicked feeding frenzy. I quickly choose three promising candidates to interview tonight. Statistically, only one should try to kill me. At 6, I rush home, jogging most of the way, moving back quickly not only gets in some cardio, but cuts down the amount of times I get hit up by panhammers. Only two versus the usual five. Back home, I give the apartment a quick clean and slip a DeWalt claw hammer between the sofa cushions for emergency maniac head bashing. The first possibility arrives right on time. Harry, 26. Disturbingly skinny, patchy stubble. Harry claims he doesn't smoke, as clearly required by my ad, yet absolutely reeks of cigarettes. I can also clearly see the outline of a pack of Lucky Strikes in his shirt pocket. The next possibility seems perfect. John, friendly, smart, open, graduate student. We have the same sense of humor. He likes things quiet. Though I notice since he's arrived, I've sneezed a bunch of times. I ask him if he happens to have any cats. He says six. I have nothing against cats, except that they can land me in the ER with one loving rub. I quickly rush John out before I break into hives. Next up is Kara, who is extremely nervous and paranoid. She thinks I'm the Craigslist psycho, and this is some sort of elaborate trap to imprison and kill her. I finally calm her down enough to sit on the sofa, where she immediately notices my skull-bashing hammer.
Speaker 05:What the fuck is that?
Speaker 03:Sorry, sorry. This was just in case you tried to kill me. Here, I'll put it away. She pulls a spray can from her purse.
Speaker 05:Stay away from me. I'll mace your pervert ass straight to hell, freak.
Speaker 03:She runs out. Hopefully not to the police. No roommate tonight. A nice-sized thunderstorm has just started rumbling. When I'm in a relationship, this would be a great time to cuddle together. But instead, the rain just makes my feelings of intense loneliness even worse. I miss Heather, even if she was a lousy girlfriend. To add to my evening, one of my common walls starts to energetically thump with some new metal screaming. It's the lovely tune, Blister Ooze by the band Goat Stench. It's my desperately over-tattooed neighbor, Gordon, maxing out his nobody-exists-but-me subwoofer. I've talked with him about this many times. I bang on the wall, and after just a moment, Slipknot gets much wowder. Perfect. I collapse on the couch and eventually fall into a miserable sleep. Hello Who is it? Hello I cautiously open the door, just a crack, and there is the most striking woman I've ever seen. Tall, thin, wide-spaced eyes that seem to be of several colors, maybe all the colors. I'm instantly attracted to her, but also simultaneously quite terrified of her as well. I've never felt anything like it. She's clearly been living on the street. She's soaked, and she immediately thrusts her iPhone in front of my face. My roommate ad is on the screen.
Speaker 04:This is here.
Speaker 03:Yes, but how do you know the address? It's not listed in the... I watched you.
Speaker 04:You're kind.
Speaker 03:She walks past me into the living room, taking in the entire apartment. And then, as if she's made a huge decision, she says...
Speaker 04:Okay. I will stay here.
Speaker 03:Look, I'm glad you want to live here, but it costs money. A lot of money. The price listed in the ad, do you have that kind of money?
Speaker 04:No.
Speaker 03:Well, you see, I need that money to be able to live here too. Do you need some money from me, some food? I'm happy to help.
Speaker 04:No, I'll get money later. Good night.
Speaker 03:And then she calmly walks into the second bedroom and closes the door. Clearly completely out of her mind. Fucking Craigslist, nothing but freaks. Hello? You really can't just move in like this. I need to see your information. References? Hello? Look, I don't even know your name. I'm going to come in. But don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. When I reach to open the door, a bolt of electricity jump arcs into my hand, sending me sprawling onto the floor. Ow! Jesus Christ! .
Speaker 04:My name is Aadie.
Speaker 03:Ok, Aadie, look, I'm sorry, but I don't think this is going to work out. I'm happy to help you find shelter, though. Other shelter. No response. I hate to do it, but she's leaving me no choice. She's clearly mentally unstable and could be dangerous. The last thing I need right now is to be murdered in my sleep. I decide to call the police and ask them what to do. I pull out my phone, but my screen only shows the words go to bed in giant letters and is otherwise completely unresponsive. I decide to go to my neighbor's subwoofer, Gordon, and use his phone. At least he'll finally be good for something. I start to reach for my front door. but quickly remember my last unpleasant doorknob experience. I very slowly move my fingers toward it, and sure enough, there's ominous crackling all around my skin. I quickly pull back. And then this weird sound starts coming from my hallway closet. It's getting louder and louder. I carefully open the door, and my Wi-Fi router's LEDs are going brighter than I've ever seen them. And the cooling fan keeps spinning faster and faster. So I reach out to unplug it, and ah! Another huge electric bolt knocks me to the floor again. That's it. Time for decisive action. I bravely run into my room, lock the door, and collapse into bed, just like my phone told me to. The next morning, I start to wake up. The storm has passed, the sun is out. I turn on my side, and Aidy's face is three inches from mine, her huge eyes staring intensely as she sits on the floor next to the bed. It scares the shit out of me. Fuck! Did you rest well? How did you get in my room? Through the door. It was locked. I unlocked it. What the hell happened last night?
Speaker 04:Many things are always happening.
Speaker 03:My doorknobs are electrified and my phone... They are fine now. I quickly grab my phone and she's right. It's completely back to normal and somehow charged to 110%. I get out of bed and head directly to my electrified front door. I slowly reach for the knob. Nothing. Totally normal. I head to the hall closet and my modem is a melted lump of black plastic. I turned 80, thrilled to have proof of at least one fucked up thing. Look at that. I
Speaker 04:will find something more capable.
Speaker 03:Suddenly, an extremely loud, nasty hum fills the room. This is not Gordon's sub, not even close. This sound quickly becomes overwhelmingly strong. Aidy grabs her head and falls to the floor, writhing in pain. The hum seems to actually be pulsing through my entire body, right to the core. I can't think or even see straight. But it's much worse for Aidy. It looks like it may be killing her. The noise keeps building, and strange, piercing voices seem to be streaking under it inside it, but I can't make out any recognizable words. It seems impossible, but it just keeps getting louder and more penetrating. My entire living room begins to shake. She finally lets out an ear-piercing scream that seems impossibly louder than the hum, and it all abruptly stops. Everything goes completely silent, but my ears are still ringing. It's like a bomb just exploded in front of my face. Are you alright?
Speaker 04:I think so.
Speaker 03:What the fuck was that? I
Speaker 04:don't know. I stopped it, but it will be back.
Speaker 03:Aidy manages to stand unsteadily. She turns away from me, scanning the room for damage, and I now notice she has a deep but healing wound on the back of her head. Jesus, what happened to you there?
Speaker 04:This is from before.
Speaker 03:Let me get some gauze.
Speaker 04:I'm all right. I don't think it's safe for me to be here now.
Speaker 03:She walks out the door. Wait. I run out after her, but she's instantly gone. And I mean gone. I'm on the top floor of my building, and I run down the staircase, but there's absolutely no sign of her anywhere. This has all just been the biggest what the fuck that's ever happened to me. I've never experienced anything like it. It's just... I'm losing my path to you. They're close again. I have to go silent. I'll be back as soon as I can get safe. If I can get safe. But meanwhile, please try to go and spread the word. Tell people that there's very difficult...