I didn't notice when it started. Not the exact second. Not the exact minute. Not even the hour. Just the feeling. That strange, crawling discomfort that something was wrong — even though nothing looked wrong.
For me, it started with my phone.
I woke up at 6:12 AM, the alarm screaming like it always did, sounding way more aggressive than necessary for a Monday morning. I slapped the screen to turn it off and rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling fan spinning above me. Same routine. Same day. Same life. At least that's what I thought.
I grabbed my phone again, thumb already moving on autopilot — check messages, scroll notifications, open social media, pretend I'm awake. Except… there was nothing. No signal bars. No Wi-Fi icon. No notifications. No life. Just a small, empty space in the corner of my screen that felt louder than any notification ever could.
"Okay…" I muttered.
Maybe the router died again. Our Wi-Fi had commitment issues. I opened my messages anyway. Nothing loading. Social media? Blank. Games? Offline. Even the weather app looked confused.
That's when the discomfort started. Not panic. Just confusion. Because things don't just… stop working all at once.
"Ethan! You're gonna be late!" my mom shouted from downstairs.
"Coming!" I yelled back, still staring at my phone.
I refreshed one more time. Still nothing. Weird. But whatever. I shoved the phone into my pocket and got up, convincing myself it wasn't a big deal. It was definitely a big deal.
The jeep ride to school felt off too. Normally, everyone inside would be glued to their phones — headphones in, scrolling endlessly, laughing at videos nobody else could hear. But today? People were talking. Like actual conversations.
Two girls behind me were complaining about their streaks ending. A guy across from me kept tapping his phone aggressively like he could force it back to life. An older man asked someone beside him if their signal was working. It wasn't.
That crawling discomfort returned. I stared out the window, watching the streets pass by — sari-sari stores opening, students rushing, tricycles honking. Everything looked normal. But it didn't feel normal. It felt like the background music of life had stopped playing.
"BRO."
Marco slammed into me the moment I entered the school gate. I nearly dropped my phone.
"What?"
"Your signal working?"
"No."
Marco stared at me. "My guy… mine too."
We walked toward the building together, both of us occasionally checking our phones like they might magically recover. Around us, the campus buzzed louder than usual. Clusters of students gathered, comparing screens. Some laughed. Some complained. Some looked genuinely stressed.
"Maybe it's just our network," Marco said.
I pointed toward a group of seniors. "They're saying the same thing."
Marco frowned. "That's illegal."
I laughed. "Pretty sure internet outages aren't crimes."
"They should be."
By the time we reached the classroom, the energy was chaotic. No one sat properly. No one opened laptops. No one reviewed notes. They were talking. Arguing. Guessing.
"Guys, what if we got hacked?"
"Bro what if it's solar flare?"
"My mom said maybe maintenance."
"Maintenance doesn't kill the whole country," someone argued.
That sentence lingered. The whole country.
Sir Ramos entered carrying something ancient. Paper. Actual printed paper. The class fell quiet immediately. Sir Ramos placed the stack on the desk and adjusted his glasses.
"Good morning," he said.
No automated attendance. No smart board startup sound. Just his voice.
"Due to a nationwide network outage, all digital systems are currently unavailable."
Silence. Real silence. The kind that presses against your ears.
"Estimated restoration time is unknown," he continued.
The classroom exploded.
"What do you mean unknown?"
"How do we submit assignments?"
"Sir my game event ends today—"
Sir Ramos raised his hand. "Classes will continue offline."
Offline. The word echoed like a threat.
Marco leaned toward me. "Bro this feels dystopian."
I smirked, but honestly? He wasn't wrong.
Lunch was louder than I'd ever heard it. Without phones acting like personal bubbles, everyone existed together again. Some played cards. Some drew. Some actually laughed face to face. It should've felt nice. But instead, it felt like something was missing. Like the world had suddenly lost a limb and was pretending everything was fine.
I sat across from Marco, spinning my untouched spoon. "You feel it?" I asked.
"What?"
"The weird."
Marco nodded immediately. "Yeah."
Not panic. Not fear. Just wrong.
The bike ride home felt longer than usual. No music streaming into my ears. No notifications interrupting my thoughts. Just wind. Just tires rolling on pavement. Just me.
I parked outside our house and instinctively checked my phone again. Still dead. I sighed and unlocked the door.
"Ma, internet still down?" I asked.
"Yes," she replied from the kitchen. "Even the news station couldn't stream."
That made my stomach drop. If news couldn't stream… then this wasn't small.
I lay on my bed that night staring at my phone resting on my chest. The room was dark except for streetlight glow slipping through my curtains. My thumb hovered over the screen.
Tap. Nothing.
I exhaled. Maybe tomorrow everything would be back. Maybe this was just one of those random outages people forget about. Maybe—
BZZT.
I froze. The vibration felt louder than thunder. My phone screen lit up. One notification. Unknown sender.
My heartbeat climbed into my throat as I opened it. A black screen appeared. A blinking cursor. Then text slowly formed.
UNKNOWN PLAYER: You're still connected.
My mouth went dry. Connected… to what?
I swallowed and typed.
ETHAN: Who is this?
The cursor blinked. Blink. Blink. Blink. Then—
UNKNOWN PLAYER: If you can read this… you're one of the last players.
The room suddenly felt smaller. Quieter. Heavier. I stared at the words, trying to understand them.
Players? Game? This wasn't funny.
I typed again.
ETHAN: What are you talking about?
A pause. Then—
UNKNOWN PLAYER: The world didn't lose the internet.
My fingers hovered above the keyboard. The next message appeared.
Someone turned it off.
A chill ran down my spine. I typed the only question that mattered.
ETHAN: Why me?
The cursor blinked longer this time. Long enough for doubt to creep in. Long enough for fear to whisper. Then the reply appeared.
UNKNOWN PLAYER: Because you noticed.
The screen went black. Signal gone. Notification gone. Conversation gone. Everything gone. Except the feeling.
I sat up slowly, staring at my dark phone screen reflecting my own confused face. The world went quiet today. But something else started. And somehow… I was part of it.