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Though I was just one person, I’d built something larger than myself, something that would echo through the ages. A noise no one would ever forget.

And soon, I would make the greatest impact anyone had ever made. What was once obscure would be immaculately illuminated.

It happened one night last week. I’d been working on the very first translation of a cuneiform tablet.

Most people didn’t know this, but the vast majority of writings from the ancient world had never been translated.

Reams of ancient papyrus and scrolls and row after row of stone tablets sat undisturbed in the storage rooms of the world’s great educational institutions, just waiting for someone to decipher their wisdom.

I’d been dedicating a little time in the evenings to that personal pursuit for a couple of years now.

The cuneiform tablet had looked like so many others. True, the fragment was just the bottom half of a longer piece of writing. But fragments weren’t unusual.

In other words, nothing about its shape or size would suggest anything other than a run-of-the-mill list of bureaucratic accounting. How many oxen did King Enmebaragesi of Kish slaughter on a feast day? How many slaves were sold at market in Uruk in the year 2573 BC? That sort of thing.

But when I dug in, deciphering the meaning, character by character, I’d been struck by the most powerful sense of déjà vu.

I had seen this before. Or to put it more precisely, I had seen its top half before—a tablet I’d translated a year before, that proclaimed a kind of apocalypse was coming—the Day of Changing.

I’d started the group on Dispatch soon after my discovery.

But that tablet had only held the first part of the prophecy.

Written on the latest tablet was what I had long searched for. The missing puzzle piece. The bottom half of the tablet from last year. The rest of the prophecy was revealing itself to me, word by word, bit by bit.

The precise date and time of the Day of Changing—right there, right in front of me. Finally.

It must’ve been divine providence that I’d successfully found and translated it so close to the actual Day of Changing.

There was no way to stop the prophecy. What was written would come true.

I didn’t want to get the group too excited too soon, though. It was all about timing.

All I could do was help a few courageous individuals save themselves and others. I had actually alluded to my discovery to one special person. She was a real warrior for the cause. And I appreciated her loyalty and action. She reminded me of Maureen King, the original warrior .

The day was coming now. It was close. Nothing could stop it.

A ping alerted me to a new notification.

A follower in New Orleans had posted a picture of a sacrifice.

Photographic evidence was an important show of faith. So many people boasted that they’d completed a sacrifice, but I couldn’t be sure they were telling the truth.

I also needed to make sure that the cuneiforms they inscribed on their sacrifices were accurate and not simply gibberish, or the sacrifice would be nullified.

I inspected the new photo. The figure was hard to make out.

He’d been killed late last night in a dark alley.

A big man lying on his side, one arm beneath his head.

But even through the rain, I could see the slice across the man’s thick neck and the blood darkening the puddles.

My follower had also photographed the characters he’d carved in the man’s forehead.

He’d only written the bare minimum, something simple and quick, but better than nothing.

The end of the old world was coming, and I was in charge of the last days. And when the new world was born, I would be in control. Everyone would look to me. Only I could commune with the gods.

The only thing that could stop me now was the law.

Of course, the authorities would be sniffing around, trying to forestall the sacrifices. I knew the FBI were on the case. With all the attention my followers had created, everyone in the United States knew.

They didn’t understand. They probably thought they were dealing with some kind of serial killer or just some murderous cult whose leader wanted to shed blood.

If they only understood the prophecy, if they only knew the old world had reached its last days, they wouldn’t have wasted what little time they had left looking for me. They’d have joined me and tried to save themselves.

I could’ve helped them.

But they would never join me. No one was more obstinate, more stuck on their path, than an FBI agent.

I had to keep them off my back. While the sacrifice in New Orleans showed the right spirit, it would draw attention.

What I needed was to keep my people quiet until the glorious end.

Then we would bring about the Day of Changing together.

I typed out a new post. Gratitude and congratulations to the warrior who has sacrificed for the good of all. After meticulous work, I have determined The Day of Changing.

Tomorrow when the sun is at its zenith.

Prepare to follow in this warrior’s footsteps. All must make a sacrifice when the world changes.

I went on and demanded silence and restraint. I wanted nothing now until the Day of Changing had come upon us, like an ancient soldier taking a deep breath before hurling his spear into the heart of the enemy.

We would wait, and as the world changed, blood would run, and redemption would be granted to those who deserved it.

The last day of the old world was so close.