It was another long day, and Mrs. Elenor was ready for it to end. She worked quietly at her reception desk, trying to avoid eye contact with the photographers and journalists endlessly marching through the Silent Echo HQ. Since Dr. Krylov informed the world of the STM, people have been eager to get a peek at it. That meant tour groups.

  Ms. Elenor shuddered at the idea of acting as a public receptionist for real. Her job before had merely been to sit at the reception desk and relay phone calls from one office to another in and out of the facility. Since the facility was top secret at the time, she had never had to see anyone who didn't already know the ins and outs. That meant she didn't have to talk to anyone she didn't know or put on a polite face.

  Everything had changed after the STM’s world announcement. The days had become uncomfortably long since Mrs. Elenor was tasked with answering questions and directing visitors. Most didn’t even speak English. Sure, she had interpreters on call, but that only created another step in her already growing pool of unwelcome work.

  All she wanted was to get home, see her family, and enjoy a nice glass of chardonnay. Was that too much to ask? Before she could finish thinking about what she wanted to do at home, another tour group shuffled to the reception area's front.

  "This is the face of the Bilocation Network. Mrs. Elenor," a young captain explained. Mrs. Elenor was courteous to him but tried to make herself look busy whenever he strutted by. Something about how he looked at her gave her the creeps. She politely waved to the group.

  "She has been with us since the project's inception, and once we are done today, if I have failed to answer any of your questions, Mrs. Elenor here is more than capable of directing you to someone who can. Please follow me to our last stop, the Save-Transmit Machine itself."

  The crowd of officials murmured excitedly among themselves.

  Mrs. Elenor wondered what language they were speaking. It might have been Turkish, but she didn't have the best ear for languages. The group shuffled over to the central STM platform, which used to serve as the main entrance to Project Silent Echo. That name had died when this place became the Bilocation Network Headquarters.

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  "The Save-Transmit Machine, as you know, is the culmination of quantum technology. The pod itself looks like it's made of glass, but when put under an electron microscope, one can see that it is an intricate nanocomposite laced with a real-time subatomic sensory array. This array records the data that creates a person's save-state," the captain explained.

  "If you look up, you will see the familiar Rapid Compound Prototyper or RCP. As is already public information, the RCP is the component that converts the mass inside the STM chamber into energy and transmits it to the main power grid. It can also take computer program commands from a quantum blueprint, or save-state, to create objects or beings."

  Mrs. Elenor had heard him give this same spiel countless times. At first, she paid attention but eventually found her focus wandering.

  "Next, we have the main quantum terminal, which acts-" He suddenly stopped speaking after examining the terminal.

  "Oh-ho," The captain said excitedly. "It seems that someone is about to arrive. We're in for a nice little treat." He stepped up just beside the STM, motioning for their attention. "This group is about to witness the STM in action." The murmurs of the group grew in volume. They were all excited.

  At this point, Mrs. Elenor couldn't care less. She had seen the STM work so often that it had become a part of her everyday life.

  "Why don't we count down together?" the captain said, trying to ham things up a bit. "Ready? Five, four."

  "Three, two, one." The group joined in enthusiastically.

  ZZZRRrrrrpp, the STM fired.

  "What the...?" The captain’s voice sounded confused. Mrs. Elenor's ears perked up at the unusual silence. Usually, the appearance of someone in the STM would be met with cheers from the tour group. Moments later, the silence was replaced by uncontrolled screaming and the clamoring of people trampling each other, trying to escape.

  Mrs. Elenor's eyes widened as she looked up at the STM, catching sight of a large object accompanied by a foreboding countdown timer. Dominating her attention was the menacing image of a spray-painted smiley face eerily juxtaposed against a nuclear hazard symbol. A scream began to form in her throat, but it was too late. A blinding flash engulfed the world around her, and in an instant, everything was reduced to mere plasma vapor by the incalculable heat of a nuclear blast.

  ***

  When Pontius Pilate ordered a crucifixion, it took six hours of agonizing pain for humankind to be forever changed by the death of Jesus of Nazareth.

  When the Enola Gay opened its bomb bay doors, it took 53 seconds of freefall for humankind to be forever changed, with the deaths of 140,000 in Hiroshima.

  When the STM was initialized, a mere ten-second countdown was all it took for humankind to be forever changed by the death of an era.