Abnormal app and Trial

Josh was curious, since he didn't remember installing this app.

His first instinct was to worry that his brand-new cell phone had somehow come with some kind of malware already installed.

Maybe some careless teenager working in transportation had wanted to use the phone to access something questionable without compromising their own device, only to realize their mistake and hastily return it to storage.

Whatever the explanation, Josh knew the risks. He immediately launched an antivirus and began manually searching through his phone's files for anything unusual.

Nearly an hour later:

After meticulously combing through every folder and running a dozen different antivirus programs just to confirm the first result, Josh reached a baffling conclusion: there was absolutely nothing wrong with his phone.

The first antivirus had found no viruses or malware. Neither had the second, third, fourth, or any of the others. All twelve scans came back completely clean. Even stranger, Josh couldn't find a single suspicious file anywhere on the device. There wasn't even an APK corresponding to the mysterious application.

Before, Josh had merely been curious. Now, he was genuinely intrigued.

For a moment, he considered deleting the damn thing. It was an unknown application that had somehow appeared on his brand-new phone without his saying so. That alone was enough to make any reasonable person uninstall it immediately.

But then, he stopped.

An application had appeared on his phone through no apparent means, almost as if it was magic. Surely that was worth at least a little investigation.

Worst-case scenario, the app was fake. Maybe it was nothing more than some strange text-based game, which Josh honestly wouldn't mind. He enjoyed those kinds of games and could use one to distract himself every now and again.

Best-case scenario...

In the end, curiosity won.

Josh opened the app.

The same message from before reappeared:

"They are after me. I've encrypted and transferred this application before they get me. Use it wisely."

He stared at it for several seconds before closing the message.

Now he began inspecting the application's interface more carefully. There were tabs. Then tabs within those tabs. Then tabs within those tabs.

The deeper Josh went, the more specific the categories became. He opened "Life," then "Terrestrial" → "Animal" → "Mammal" → "Non-Sentient" → "Canid" → "Dog" → "Pug."

Josh blinked.

"Damn."

This thing was detailed.

He had already gone through eight categories, and there were still several more levels beneath them. Whoever had created this application had put an absurd amount of effort into its organization.

Josh leaned back in his chair.

"Okay. I'll give you that."

But now he wanted to test it.

If the application really worked, there had to be some way to confirm it without doing anything dangerous.

He went into "Phenomenon," then selected "Earth" → "Climate" → "Sky."

He searched for several seconds before finding exactly what he wanted:

"The sky is a light blue color during the day and dark blue during the night."

Josh stared at the sentence.

A stupid test, but a safe one.

At least, he thought it was safe.

He edited the rule.

"The sky is a — during the day and dark blue during the night."

He pressed "SAVE".

For a second, nothing happened.

Josh waited.

Then, almost casually, he looked out his bedroom window.

His blood ran cold.

The midday sky was pitch black.

Not dark gray.

Not stormy.

Black. Tiny points of light glittered across it as though night had suddenly replaced the afternoon, yet the sun remained visible, shining against the landscape below.

Josh's mouth fell open.

"Whoa—"

That's what he wanted to say, but no sound came out. Instead, he gasped.

Not from shock, but for air.

There wasn't any.

Josh's lungs desperately tried to draw in oxygen, but nothing entered them. He stumbled backward, clutching his throat.

What the hell was happening? The air was gone.

A single thought flashed through his mind:

"Was it the app?"

With his vision already beginning to fade, Josh frantically grabbed his phone. His fingers trembled as he navigated back to the rule.

He typed "L—I—G—H—T_B—L—U—E" in the empty space he had left. Then pressed SAVE.

For half a second, nothing happened.

Then—

GASP!

Air flooded back into his lungs.

Josh collapsed against his desk, coughing violently.

How stupid was he?

Of course that would happen! He had changed the rule governing the sky's color, which is only blue due to the refractive index of oxygen, without specifying what the replacement color should actually be. The application hadn't merely changed the sky's appearance. It had interpreted his edit literally.

And if the sky wasn't blue because of the oxygen's interaction with light... Then all the oxygen in the atmosphere had apparently disappeared.

Josh stared at the screen in horror.

"Okay," he whispered between breaths. "Never doing that again."

Then another thought hit him.

His family.

Josh shot out of his chair and ran downstairs.

He rushed into the kitchen expecting the worst.

Instead, he found his family alive. Everyone looked shaken, but alive.

His mother, Ellena, was standing at the counter, one hand pressed against her chest. A mixing bowl sat awkwardly in front of her, apparently dropped during the sudden loss of oxygen, though it seemed that none of its contents had spilled.

His sister, Amelia, and his father, Maxuel, were sitting beside each other at the kitchen table. Maxuel was leaning over Amelia, examining her to make sure she was okay.

Josh nearly collapsed with relief.

Josh: "Is everyone alright?"

Maxuel: "It seems so. What about you?"

Josh: "I'm okay."

Amelia rubbed her chest.

Amelia: "What was that? It felt like there was no more air to breathe."

Ellena: "I don't know, sweetheart."

Before anyone could say anything else, a loud noise suddenly came from the living room.

They all turned towards it.

The TV that they were watching before was now displaying an "Emergency broadcast" symbol on its screen.

The news anchor appeared on-screen, visibly struggling to catch his breath.

News Anchor: "We apologize for interrupting your current broadcast. We've come here to inform you about a recent phenomenon experienced across the nation. Approximately five minutes ago, precisely at 1X:XX PM, the atmosphere around the country momentarily disappeared."

Josh froze.

The anchor continued.

"We've received witness reports stating that, for a period of approximately thirty seconds, the entire sky turned completely dark, despite the sun remaining visible and the surface of the Earth continuing to be illuminated."

The anchor suddenly stopped.

He took a hand to his ear, activating his earpiece.

"One moment, dear viewers. We're currently receiving additional information."

He listened.

His face slowly drained of color.

"Apparently, we weren't the only ones who experienced this bizarre phenomenon."

Another pause.

"We're receiving reports from—"

He stopped again.

"Wait. Another? How many?"

His eyes widened.

"Thirty... fifty..."

The anchor stared directly into the camera.

"Folks, it seems this phenomenon has occurred in every part of the world. From the Arctic to the Antarctic."

Josh's stomach dropped.

"As of now, no meteorologist, physicist, or scientist has been able to explain what occurred. The United Nations has stated that no country appears to be responsible and is recommending that the public remain indoors until more information becomes available."

His mouth was dry.

"Who—or what—could possibly possess the technology and power to do something like this? And why would anyone remove all the oxygen from the atmosphere, only to return it thirty seconds later? We do not know that yet, but every specialist and government agency around the globe is working to solve these question, and as soon as we learn it, we will make sure to pass it along to you".

Assured the anchor.

He knew exactly the answer to both of these questions. It was him, and it had been an accident. He undid his mistake becuse otherwise, he would perish.

"We will now return to our regular broadcast until further information arrives. I wish you all a safe afternoon."

Silence filled the kitchen.

Josh stared at the screen.

Then he whispered:

"Ho—ly—shit."

The app was legit! Not only was it real, but his little experiment had affected the entire planet.

His excitement died down, and a shiver ran through Josh's spine as he remembered the message that had appeared when he first opened the application.

"They are after me."

If the application's powers were real, then the warning was probably real too.

Someone had created this thing. Someone had been trying to protect it. And someone—or something—was apparently hunting for it.

Josh suddenly became very aware of just how dangerous the phone in his room was.

If he could nearly kill the entire planet by changing one sentence without understanding its implications, on a fluke, then what would happen if someone with actual malicious intentions got access to it?

Josh didn't even want to imagine.

Josh turned and ran back upstairs.

He needed safeguards, precautions, contingencies, and he needed them urgently.

Anything that could prevent another accidental catastrophe—or keep someone else from using the application against humanity.