Chapter 1: The Year 3070 – Earth's Final Days
The sky was no longer blue. It hadn't been for centuries. The once vibrant Earth, teeming with life and beauty, had become a wasteland of ash-gray skies, poisoned rivers, and suffocating heat. Oceans had risen, swallowing cities. Deserts expanded like greedy beasts, devouring forests and farmlands. Humanity, once the pinnacle of evolution, had become desperate nomads scraping for survival.
In the heart of the Indo-Asian Federation, what remained of old India, stood a highly fortified biodome—the last stronghold of sustainable life on Earth. Inside that dome was a family that refused to give up, even when the world did.
Deepak Rawat, a tall man in his early thirties with sharp eyes and calm authority, stood on the top deck of the central tower. His gaze pierced through the glass toward the withering horizon, his mind not in the present, but centuries behind… and ahead.
"It's time," he whispered.
Behind him, the hum of machines echoed in harmony. This was no ordinary facility—it was the hub of Project Punarjanm—the Earth's final lifeline. Deepak's family, geniuses genetically engineered for extended life, were the architects behind it all.
His father, Rakesh Rawat, a former aerospace engineer and quantum physicist, approached, placing a hand on Deepak's shoulder. "We can't wait any longer. The last atmospheric collapse is just weeks away."
"I know, Papa," Deepak replied, turning. "Have the final synchronization reports come in?"
"Everything is green," Rakesh said. "The ship's core is stabilized. Sanno has completed the final AI integrations. The quantum reactor is sealed. We're ready."
Sanno Rawat, Deepak's mother, was a brilliant technobiologist. She had spent the last thirty years designing the neural framework of the quantum ship's AI. She joined them now, her hands still stained with bio-gel. "We did everything we could to save Earth. But sometimes… the only way forward is back."
Inside the central dome, Khushboo, Deepak's younger sister, managed the biosphere. A botanical genius, she had preserved over 800,000 DNA samples of extinct and endangered flora, crafting a digital library of Earth's forgotten greenery. She was preparing the bio-chambers to go into stasis for the long jump.
Nearby, Neha, Deepak's elder sister, was busy checking vitals on her children. Diksha, the oldest at 13, already showed signs of genius in robotics. Kshitiza, 10, was fluent in five languages and led the animal care unit with her calm empathy. Aditya, the youngest at 8, had just finished synchronizing a training drone fleet. Her husband, Sonu, managed logistics—AI fleet deployment, energy storage, and food synthesis.
They were not just a family. They were Earth's last architects.
Every government, every corporation, every wealthy elite had tried to escape to planets beyond the solar system. Mars, Europa, even Titan. But those journeys were riddled with failure. Terraforming was incomplete. Resources were scarce. Human bodies were weak and unprepared for alien environments. Civilization collapsed in waves.
Deepak's plan was different.
Why run forward blindly, when the answers lay in the past?
They had built a one-time-use quantum time jump machine embedded into a 100-kilometer-long quantum spaceship, powered by a stabilized black hole core—something no one else dared attempt. This ship wasn't for exploration. It was a self-contained civilization. It carried with it the complete scientific, cultural, medical, and technological archive of Earth circa 3070. And not just data—it carried 10,000 humanoid AI units, trained in every human function—protection, construction, agriculture, diplomacy, education, and more.
The ship's purpose?
To go back to the year 1600, land on a mostly untouched continent—Australia, transform it into a new Eden, and rise again. A better version of humanity. A smarter civilization. A peaceful empire. A utopia.
A new Dwarka, named after the legendary submerged kingdom that once flourished in ancient India.
The time jump was scheduled in 48 hours. Final preparations were underway.
But there was a quiet tension in the air. Because time travel was a one-way road. No one had ever tested it. The quantum fluctuations were unpredictable. They could land anywhere in the 1600s. There was also the risk of them arriving during a storm, war, or even colliding with ancient wildlife.
But Deepak had made peace with the uncertainty.
He stood before the massive viewport of the ship, the launch tower glowing with soft neon pulses, and whispered a silent vow:
> "We will not run. We will rebuild.
We will not conquer. We will coexist.
We will not forget. We will remember… everything."
Just then, alarms blared softly—not danger, but confirmation.
The temporal coordinates were locked. The year: 1600.