A week of chaos.
That was what the news anchors called it, back when the news anchors still had words for what was happening. The first three days had been confusion. The next two had been panic. The last two had been something else. Something quieter. The kind of quiet that comes before a storm, or after one, when no one can tell the difference anymore.
The United States deployed the National Guard to six states. Not to fight anything. To keep order. To stand on street corners with rifles and helmets and faces that looked as confused as everyone else. Curfews were announced. No one followed them. The lights in the sky didn't care about curfews.
The European Union held emergency sessions that ended in shouting. France wanted to close its borders. Germany wanted to open a dialogue with whatever was out there. Italy wanted to pray. No one agreed. No one left. They just sat in their grand buildings, arguing about words, while the sky cracked above them.
