The Internet is a catastrophe.
Those who have dives into it soon realize that it is a nightmare. What started as a instrument of communication turned into a catalyst for catastrophes—disasters triggered by entities that don't even have a physical body.
In the year 2044, humanity was shaken by countless disasters—tsunamis, typhoons, earthquakes. Nearly every country, even those with no history of natural disasters, experienced at least one major catastrophe.
Let us introduce who caused them : Abstract.
An artificial intelligence created by—no one knows who. An AI that surpassed all living beings on Earth. It adapted with terrifying speed and lacked the conscience to feel guilt over the torment it inflicted on humans.
Despite everything, humanity understood Abstract's ultimate goal: the extinction of mankind, and the arrival at "Zero Point," where Earth would become nothing more than a dead chunk floating in deep space.
To accomplish this goal, Abstract created something called Vita, short for Virtual Terraform. A system that allowed anything connected to the internet to gain a corresponding virtual presence.
The virtual realm was named the Solid Platform—a place where data formed into three-dimensional space. It was entirely virtual, unreachable by physical means, and only accessible under very specific conditions.
But the Solid Platform wasn't just a "place." It was a catalysis of anomalies—distortions that defied the laws of science and technology. These anomalies originating from the Platform went far beyond the grasp of human understanding.
Some anomalies could possess and control humans. Others could create creatures, sabotage electrical systems, or even manipulate the weather.
In Abstract's hands, the Solid Platform became an instrument of world Armageddon—the ultimate weapon against mankind.
Human civilization fell into ruin. Many governments collapsed under Abstract's mysterious attacks. The survivors fared better, but still lived in bleak conditions.
Scientists began researching the Solid Platform. They became the new heroes, seeking a way to counter Abstract's mystic onslaughts. After five long years, a breakthrough finally emerged.
The Solid Platform's ownership could be transferred.
Yes—humans could own a Solid Platform by following certain procedures. It was a ray of hope. The challenge, however, was discovering how to enter the Solid Platform.
As stated before, it existed only in the virtual realm—it couldn't be accessed physically. A new solution had to be found.
This led to a study into the deepest parts of the human brain. Only a rare few possessed the required capability. The research coined the term "Psionic"—referring to electrical phenomena within the human brain.
With the aid of specific instruments, a person with psionic abilities could enter the Solid Platform.
And on May 8, 2056, the first human finally succeeded in claiming ownership of one.
His name was Majik, an ordinary man from India. He was the one who led a regiment of Netdivers into a Solid Platform that manipulated the weather to cause continuous rainfall, resulting in widespread flooding across many regions of his country.
His bravery paved the way for humanity's counterattack—finally, the real war had begun. A war not only fought in the physical world, but also deep within cyberspace.
Those who entered the Solid Platform became known as Netdivers—divers of the Internet, now transformed into a digital hell. Entering meant risking death, for they navigated it using only their minds—their own psionic powers.
Anyone disconnected or "killed" inside the Solid Platform would have their brain's electrical signals severed. The result? Death.
Or, at better condition, brain death or total paralysis to Netdiver.
That's why the Netdiver job was reserved only for the bold—those unafraid of dying in the exploration of the unknown.
They were the front line troops.
Digital soldiers, standing between humanity and the wrath of Abstract.
***
In a dark room, five people were tinkering with computers. Four of them wore panicked expressions. They were in no condition to remain calm. The ticking clock on the wall showed 3:54 PM. They would be raided by polices when the time hit four.
There might be lates, but that brought them no peace of mind.
Among the five, one person remained unfazed—expression flat. He seemed unbothered by the idea of being arrested.
He was the youngest in the group.
But he wasn't ignorant—he was the one who warned the others that the raid was coming.
They were being raided for what they were doing right now.
They were Netbuilders—a group of programmers who developed weapons and support tools for Netdivers. Since the Solid Platform existed within the internet, almost all equipment there had to be coded and visualized in 3D.
These tools and weapons were known as Etherware, and they needed to be built using source code—just like any complex software.
Netbuilders were essential to Netdivers. Without their support gear and weapons, most missions in the Solid Platform would fail—or become impossible.
With skilled Netbuilders, mission success rates skyrocketed.
But what these five were doing wasn't about defeating Abstract's Platform.
No—they were creating illegal Etherware, off the government's radar. Unregistered, black-market tools.
There were many such rogue Netbuilders, each with their own area of expertise.
This group's specialty was weapons.
They sold them to criminal Netdivers, or worse—to Abstract's minions.
Not all Netdivers were heroes. Many worked for criminal gangs that used their abilities to hijack platforms—governmental or corporate—and demand ransoms.
These five were infamous.
Every major cybercrime seemed to trace back to them.
And their punishments, if caught, would be severe.
"You still not done with your part, Asa?"
One of the men asked the youngest member. He was the group's leader.
The young man, Asa, didn't even glance his way. His fingers continued flying across the keyboard.
"Almost done."
"Then hurry up. We're out of time."
Asa didn't respond. His typing grew faster louder until the clatter of keys echoed across the room.
Then suddenly silence. He stopped. And muttered quietly,
"Yep... too late."
He closed his eyes.
BANG!
"Police! Put hands up!"
The door burst open. Officers swarmed in and raided the room. The four older men turned pale. One of them lunged toward the window—intending to escape. But before he could get there—ZZZT!
He was hit with a stun gun and collapsed.
All five were arrested—including Asa, the youngest, who calmly extended his hands to be cuffed.