It was called a recording, but it was still a ruin from the previous civilization. Of course, it couldn't be too low-budget.
Hoshino blinked. A hazy glow flashed before her eyes, swirling and dancing around her as it constructed a low-resolution holographic image. Even the smell of the wind became completely different.
The wind at Stonehenge carried a faint dryness, smelling of soil mixed with rotting grass.
But from this moment on, the scent became somewhat damp, as though it had just rained. The scene changed completely as well. She crossed tens of millions of years and arrived before a towering building.
Hoshino blinked and began observing her surroundings.
It was a very typical Soviet-style building, exuding the solemnity of classicism. The towering structure loomed overhead, as if it might collapse at any moment.
A large pendulum clock stood at the entrance.
The clock swayed as rain struck its base, splashing up modest bursts of water.
Hoshino immediately grinned when she saw it. She knew this thing all too well. Wasn't it the Doomsday Clock countdown from the Cold War era? In all the stories she had read about that period, the Doomsday Clock had never been more than ten minutes from midnight.
On the Doomsday Clock, midnight represented the end of the world.
Back then, the world could have been destroyed by nuclear war at any moment. Tense and anxious humanity had created this Doomsday Clock; the closer it was to midnight, the closer the world was to doomsday.
She hadn't expected to see something so familiar. For a moment, she felt oddly sentimental.
Hoshino looked up.
The clock face was deathly pale, its hands pitch-black. They pointed directly at midnight without moving, surrounded by silent deathly stillness.
So doomsday had already come.
Hoshino shook her head.
Though it